respect and pride.”
“Look at me.” A long moment passed, Cale remaining unmoved. “Look at me!”
Cale’s wary gaze lifted, his posture still tense, prepared for the mottling of Bram Terriot’s infamous rage. But this wasn’t the crazed, deathly-ill tyrant he’d had imprisoned. Here was the feared and respected king of their clan. Strong, confident, a larger than life red-headed mountain of a male fueled by pride and greed and fury. What he, himself, might have become if not for the sweet kiss from a childhood dream.
Deadly as a hypnotic cobra as a grim smile spread, his father demanded, “What do you know of pride, boy? You bent a knee to Savoie and Guedry. You tore our clan apart and here you are, begging for me to clean up your mess.”
Vision skewed by the truth of that claim, Cale whispered, “I am.” A long, meaningful pause, building toward that final capitulation. “Please, my king. I beg you, show them mercy.”
“But none for yourself?”
“I don’t deserve it. Our mates carry the future of our people.” This was the point he had to sell to his last breath. “You’ll need their numbers to increase those we’ve lost. Especially now.”
Silence, then that rough chuckle that eerily echoed his own. “I don’t need them, boy. All I need to do is step back, then claim my reward.”
Mouth going slack, he fought to find words. “What reward is worth their blood?”
“Power.” Bram savored that single word. “Those from the North wasted their trust on Guedry promises. They’ll have no reason to doubt mine once I cleanse our clan of its defectors and crush those in opposition.”
Breathless with dread, Cale whispered, “You’d sell out our kind to serve those monsters?”
“Not to serve, to join. They mean to use New Orleans to reeducate or rid themselves of those who’ve opposed them. We will stand on those walls of progress to assure that vision is successful. We’ll be the muscled arms of their intentions now that Guedry has betrayed his weakness. I’ll show none. And my first act to prove it will be the very public execution of all those who stood against me. The name Terriot will be reborn in their blood. Your blood.”
Cale’s tortured gaze lifted. “You’d kill your children and their unborn?”
“And sleep like a baby. It won’t be the first time I’ve cleansed with fire. It’s the only way to purify. Time to finish what I started at our compound.” Bram savored the flash of horror on his son’s face. “I’ll let you think on that while your life drains out at my feet. Because you’re right, they’ll crumble once you’re gone. My people,” a harsh laugh, “are sheep, easily deceived, easily led. They’ll follow once I devour all who’ve betrayed me, leaving your precious Kendra for the last tasty bite.”
Slowly, the gloating king’s pleasure faded.
Instead of expressing horror and begging for a stay of those terrible plans, Cale’s lips quirked then slowly curved into his fierce smile. “I think we have enough to make our case.”
Those odd words sent a shock of warning to scatter the old king’s confidence.
Silent as an avenging spirit, Turow Terriot stepped through the doorway behind Stephen. Before his brother could draw a startled breath, it was too late for it to be his last as the flash of Row’s blade nearly took off his head.
“For Sylvia,” Turow declared softly into Stephen’s ear. “No one harms those I love and lives to boast of it . . . especially not to me.” After wiping his blade clean on Stephen’s jacket, he let the shell of his brother fall. Stoic stare never leaving their father, Row addressed Cale. “Thank you, my king, for allowing me that privilege.”
“What is this?” Bram demanded, outraged and not yet afraid.
Cale showed his teeth. “I needed your men at the docks to bring me here. But they weren’t all loyal to you.”
“The traitors have been taken care of.” Row put down a hand to his leader, hoisting him from his knees as he nodded toward their father. “What do we do with him? Back to his comfortable jail until he finds someone else to free him?”
“No.” Another strong voice spoke from the doorway behind Row. As he stepped aside to give their youngest sibling room to join them, Kip addressed Bram with a fierce growl. “You killed my mother.”
Without a flinch, Bram sneered. “She should have kept her legs together around that weak blood, boy.” Head snapping back from the flash of a stunningly hard blow, he