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“You summoned me.” I sip the scotch, letting the warm liquid seep through me, making my already hot skin race with the fire of the liquid. I’m always hot, ready to attack—a blaze of sweltering fire that can’t be stopped.

“I did, and you came, like a good little son.”

It’s an insult. All of his words toward me are. He says them to get a reaction out of me, but I’ve long learned to pretend his insults and threats don’t exist.

“Did you have a point in bringing me here? Because I have a full schedule for today, including ensuring you make millions and the men are in line.”

“Impatient fuck as always.” He shakes his head. “I would have thought any son of mine would have learned to respect his elder, his leader.”

My eyes darken as my lids fall, only allowing the tiniest slit of my eye to remain open. I know how to close off from this man. I know how to keep my composure. I’m seventeen. Practically an adult. No longer a boy. But around this man, who calls himself my father, I struggle to be anything but a ten-year-old boy who disobeyed. I won’t be that scared little boy anymore. Not around him.

Instead, I sip on my drink like I want to be here, and I wait. I have more patience than my father ever will. I could sit here all day and all night without flinching. I know how to go deep within myself and ignore everything else. Food, drink, feelings, everything. I know how to shut out the world. If he wants me to be patient, I will be. And he’ll lose.

He sighs. “I have a target for you.”

I raise an eyebrow but don’t speak. I know he has more to say.

I’ve killed men before, nine to be exact, so this isn’t an unusual request. What is strange is that he brought me here, to the place he holds holy to give his order, instead of sending one of his men. So what’s different about this one?

“How?” I know it’s the right question. Does he want me to make this man suffer or kill him quickly? What kind of man am I dealing with? Am I taking out a monster or enemy? Dispatching the leader of a gang or disposing of one of our own who dared not to follow orders?

My father’s body stills as he considers his next words.

“You decide.”

My eyes widen, and I almost choke on my scotch. I never get to make a decision. I may rule a group of men who will follow every order I give, but it’s not the same as having free will to decide when and who we strike. I’m only following my father’s orders when I give my own.

His mouth curls down at my reaction. Disappointment, I’ve seen it before.

I stiffen again into stone, ensuring I won’t show a moment of weakness again.

“Who’s the target?”

My father remains silent as he sips his drink. His pupils widen as he imagines the target in his head. Whatever this man did to deserve my father’s wrath is bad. And now I decipher his meaning. I know what the real test is, why my father won’t tell me how to dispose of him. Because once I know what this man did, it’s up to me to prove my worth to my father, by correctly dispatching of him. By giving him the correct punishment for his crimes, and seeing that justice, at least in the eyes of my father, is done.

“What did he do?”

He turns toward me, his lips finally curling into the evil grin I’m used to seeing.

“Nothing.”

Fuck.

I’ve killed in self-defense before. Injured many men, fighting battles to defend my family’s power.

I’ve killed men who hurt my family or this club. Killed those who were planning to take us down. But I’ve never killed someone who was innocent.

It doesn’t mean my father is telling me the truth either. This man could be innocent or my father’s greatest foe. It makes no difference. I’ll kill him all the same.

Because that’s what I am—a killing machine. My father trained me my entire life to be an assassin so I could prove my worth to him. My first kill was when I was thirteen, and it has been my life ever since.

My father sees the change in my body despite the wall I put up. He knows I’ll follow his every command without hesitation.

“Good.” He nods at me.

My stomach drops feeling like my transformation into the devil is complete. Except the devil is still sitting three feet away from me. How can I be the devil when he’s still alive?

“One more thing. You do this kill, the right way, then you will get power.”


Tags: Ella Miles Truth or Lies Dark