a trap until my leg was already snared by the prongs of an invisible bear trap.
My father shouldn’t be here. I had not yet sent for him or his men, so not only was I surprised when I saw him bound and gagged at the round table Sahib makes all his decisions at, I was angry—really fucking angry. My father is stronger than Sahib and Achim combined. He has killed men by the thousands and is feared by millions, yet he sits in a chair, defenseless and weak.
And now I stand before him just as spinelessly.
I should take a risk. I have a gun in my hand, and the killer instincts to take down Achim long before the man with his pistol butted to my temple will yank back his trigger. It will most likely see us all go down in a fiery gun battle, but it has to be better than dying like a coward, right?
Ugh, it shouldn’t be this fucking hard. Hate was born inside of me. It was nurtured by every man I took down and grew to a point I shouldn’t give a shit about anyone, not the man who raised me or the woman who made my heart thud in my ears. I just need to get her smell out of my head, her taste from my mouth. If I can free myself from the memories debilitating me, I’ll be able to inch back the trigger without a single worry. Killing is who I am. It’s all I know.
So pull back the trigger! Roars the evilness inside of me. Kill her as you had planned to do only weeks ago. Begin the war you crave more than the heat of her cunt wrapped around your cock.
With a roar, I inch back the trigger as I was trained to do. The gun clicks, but the barrel fails to bang. The chamber is as empty as the now-gaping hole in my chest. I chose my family over her, yet the torment still won’t end. Not just because India heard the empty coil of the chamber when I chose her fate, but because of the man entering the room from my left, clapping like he just watched the performance of his life.
“Bravo, Trey, Bravo. Blood is clearly thicker than water…” He angles his head to the side to fully free his smile before he adds, “… for you. I wasn’t so lucky, was I? He didn’t pick me over her. He left me to die.”
“She was our mother,” I argue even though I’m not truly sure if the ghost of my brother is standing across from me or if I’m overdosing on the adrenaline surging through my veins. “She should have always been his first choice.”
“I was his son!” Cole’s roar shudders the dishware lining the far wall. They’re china plates for each year the Dvořák’s have been in power. I should have paid attention to how many there were before I agreed with my father that this takeover bid would be easy. “I was his blood, but that still wasn’t enough to save me. I was still taken by his enemies, maimed, tortured, and beaten without him feeling a single ounce of remorse.”
“That’s not true, Cole. We searched for you for months. We killed men across the globe in the hopes of finding you. We’ve never stopped looking.”
My older brother steps closer to me. His chest is flaring as hard as his nostrils. Although we’re only a year apart, his face is wearier than mine, aged by the hardness of the war we were born in. “Yet, this is the first time I’ve seen you in the flesh in years.” After straying his eyes to our father over my shoulder, he snarls. “We were never important to him. We were not his sons. We were soldiers used for war. Pawns in a game we never signed up for. He used us as much as Achim used his whore to get to you.” He returns his eyes to mine. They’re not wet with the tears they had when the enemies of our family made my father pick between his wife and his almost-grown son. They’re dark and evil, an equal match to mine. “Was she worth it, Trey? Will the memories from your fuck in the pitch-black room keep you alive long after your soul leaves you?”
The tactical side of my head tells me not to fall for his tricks, the man standing across from me isn’t my