In Peace Lies Havoc - Amo Jones Page 0,115

before we all take our attention back to Delila.

“Personally, I think it’s time we start fighting back toward Patience. This is the first time they have ever tried to actively step on our toes by using one of our own. Nonetheless…”

“Ahhh, yes, let’s talk about little Jack. Where is he?”

King answers quickly, “Dead.”

His father’s eyes go to him. “And was it cleaned properly? I can’t have anything falling back on us. We’ve lived beneath the shadows, quite literally, for decades. I won’t have your dick getting us into trouble.”

“It’s clean,” King clarifies. “He changed teams and went to Patience. Not sure for how long, but I’m gathering it has been a while.”

“Actually, Jack did things to Perse while she was in our care, so I would say that he needed to be weeded out. He and his mom were drug addicts. When they saw an opportunity with Perse, they jumped, knowing that Patience would pay big bucks for a Kiznitch, especially one of the Hendry girls.” They start bickering in the background, so I look to King, finding him watching me. I focus on his soft lips, the dip from his cheekbone, and his perfectly structured nose.

I want this. You. I say.

The fuck you don’t. He replies.

“Where are our brothers anyway?” Delila asks, her eyes flying around the room.

King finally drags his attention away from me and to Delila. “They’re not coming. They’ll agree to whatever I agree to.”

Delila nods. “So it’s settled? We will conduct a plan?”

“Son,” King’s dad interferes. “A word?”

King squeezes my hand and then stands, disappearing with his dad behind the door.

As soon as we’re out of view, Dad turns toward me. “Do you know what you’re doing? Had she not been in the picture, would your decision still be the same?”

I think over his words, though I’m pretty sure I don’t have to think long. I will always do what’s best for Kiznitch—period. It’s why I’m my father’s son, why I will take his place when he passes, because I have no problem making decisions for the families, and most of all mine.

“Yes,” I answer, fishing out my pack of smokes from my back pocket and biting one out. I flip open my Zippo, grinning that I still own it, before blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Like you even have to ask, Pops.”

“Listen.” Dad sighs, and I know what’s coming. The talk about how I stress my mom out and how there has always been bad juju around the Hendry twins because of their witch mother. When I say “witch,” I mean she practiced witchcraft. She called herself a white witch when our parents were younger. People thought they could go to her to be healed, but in actuality, she ended up cursing everyone she touched. I mean, not a real curse, but she let off bad stigma amongst those she touched. It’s one of the reasons why a lot of people who are in Midnight Mayhem steered clear from P when they saw her. They thought she’d—I don’t know—work voodoo on them without even knowing it. When she found out about Dove and P, she became more violent with her evil. “I know she means a lot to you. You four have this twisted little bond—and I blame that on your mother and her poor choice of friends.” My mom was always very close with P’s father. It’s why we were practically raised together. Whether they fucked or not is a different story. You never know in this world. Very rarely do wives and husbands remain in a completely monogamous relationship. “It puts stress on your mother who thinks you will make the wrong decision.”

I roll my eyes, puffing on my smoke. “Mom needs to chill. She’s getting old. She needs a new hobby. She wants my Aston Martin. Well, she can take it.”

Dad laughs, a full throat chuckle after a while, shaking his head. “Man, you boys really are going to be the death of her.”

I shrug. “Is that all?”

“No.” Dad clears his throat. “This King and Persephone thing. It full swing?”

I freeze. I don’t want to say no, but I don’t want to say yes either. “It’s where it needs to be right now.”

Dad searches my eyes, finding the answer he so desperately wanted between the words I didn’t speak. “Well, bring her home for Christmas anyway. I’m sure we are going to have a full table like every year.”

I shrug. “She’d come anyway. Delila has become far too attached.”

“Just Delila?”

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