but it was clean. A little too neat to be an accident or done in the heat of the moment.”
Jeremy seemed to think about that before pulling out his phone and typing while he drove with one hand. A few seconds later, he was showing me his screen. “Did it look something like that?”
I stared at the screen, my mouth suddenly dry. “Exactly like that. What the hell is that?” I sounded hoarse to my own ears. Without a word, he tapped the picture, zooming back out and showing me the medical article it was attached to. “A cesarean section?” I read out loud.
“More commonly known as a C-section,” he calmly informed me.
Meeting his gaze, I swallowed at the knowing look in his eye. A moment later, Antonov’s lips quirked as he refocused on the road again. My world had been turned upside down in a matter of seconds, and he was smirking? Before I could rethink it, my fist connected with his jaw, and I watched his head turn as his blood splattered the driver window. It was a sucker punch, but I didn’t give a damn. I was pretty sure I loosened a tooth. The only reaction Antonov gave was to meet my gaze with the promise of retribution in them. He’d been barreling all the way home, which meant that whatever my father wanted must have been too important to stop and deal with me.
I sat back and closed my eyes, hoping that Jeremy killed me.
But then…if what he said was true, I couldn’t die. Not yet. Not until I figured out how to reach the bottom of this endless well. This cycle of secrets, lies, and betrayal.
Tyra wouldn’t dare have my baby and not tell me. Not because of the danger they’d both unwittingly be in, but because she knew I would never forgive her. It was the perfect way to exact vengeance for my betrayal.
Antonov didn’t speak when we finally reached the house, and I didn’t offer apologies. I wasn’t sorry about a damn thing. I found my father in his study and faltered at the good-natured smile he wore. I immediately crossed over to the sideboard and poured myself a drink. I was still underage, but my father didn’t give a shit, and I wouldn’t care even if he did.
“You wanted to see me?” With my back still facing him, I fiddled with my phone before slipping it back inside my pocket. My father didn’t speak for several moments.
“Did I ever tell you about my ascension?”
God, help me. Not another history lesson.
“No. I don’t recall asking.”
Or caring.
“Sit down,” he ordered me.
Swallowing down the liquor in one gulp, I poured myself another glass before obeying. Before my ass even touched the seat, my father began.
“Did you know I’ve ruled over Thirteen the longest?” Ignoring my unimpressed shrug, he continued. “Keeping the identity of Father a secret began with my predecessor after too much leadership turnover.” At my blank look, he added, “They kept getting assassinated.” Leaning back in his chair, he drummed his fingers on the desk as he studied me. “Not even the men who rise and fall in my name every day have a clue who I am. Of course, I can’t remain completely anonymous. Nothing would ever get done.” I nodded since it seemed to be expected. “It’s important to delegate,” he continued. “To find men willing to execute your will.”
“Your round table.”
“Precisely.” Removing a cigar from the cherry wood case, he clipped the end and lit up. “Thirteen is mine now, and my dynasty begins with you, so know this now. Surrounding yourself with people you can trust is vital…and nonnegotiable. My predecessor kept thirteen men at his table to honor our founders. Until you, I’ve only kept four.”
“Why so paranoid? Is inspiring loyalty not one of your strengths?”
He took the time to blow a cloud of smoke into the air before responding. “I subscribe to the belief that anyone can be bought, son. The most important lesson my predecessor taught me was to take what I wanted and never apologize for it. I made sure to thank him for his wisdom before I had him killed.”
If my father expected a reaction out of me, he didn’t get one. I’d made my feelings clear that I didn’t care about Thirteen—its past or its future. My presence was contingent on Tyra continuing to breathe.
“Naturally,” my father went on, “no one knows about this important moment in Thirteen’s history except myself…and the man