Yet.
I flick through the files that Benny sent to me while Kyrin was dealing with Lilith, going back and forth with four files that show four different orphanages over the globe. Nothing makes sense. Why would they go through the trouble of making sure The Dolls couldn’t get pregnant, and it had to be more than just their appearance. Patience is obsessed with perfection, but even for them this is far.
“When did they give her the hysterectomy?” Nate asks, and I look between the little squares of our group FaceTime.
“Three months before Midnight Mayhem took her.” I toss the files out over the bed, leaning back on the headboard with a sigh. Frustration isn’t an emotion I deal well with, especially if I’m not in control of it. “It doesn’t make sense. None of this shit does.”
“For once, we’re not behind the fuckery. I’m sorry you have to go through this shit.” Bishop’s voice calms me a notch. Everything that Bishop Vincent Hayes exudes is power. The man was born to lead.
“Yeah. Well, shit, I just don’t know where to go from here. Right now, I’m pretty sure they’re moving in on getting information out of the people they managed to capture from Patience, but I also know that a good lot of them escaped. I’m guessing it was the smart ones that got away—the ones who were important enough to have an exit strategy.”
“Did your man keep any of them alive, or does he run the same race as us…” Brantley’s cool demeanor is reassuring. He’s the rock of the group, always keeping us grounded. Real.
“Pretty sure Kyrin is a psychopath, so I’m gonna go with none…” Nate. The jokester. The one who gets away with saying way too much dumb shit because we all know deep down he’s a genius.
“I’m sure they’ve not told Lilith that most of them escaped yet either,” I muse to myself, flicking a lighter between my fingers.
“Well, you know you’re going to have to start there. With the ones you saved. Maybe keep it old school, get a rat, a metal bucket, and a blowtorch, you feel me?” Nate again.
“Too messy,” Brantley adds casually, a glass of whiskey against his lips. His suit top is unbuttoned, his careless blank expression looking out into the distance. “I recommend waterboarding. Efficient, and although it might be basic, eighty-seven percent of the human population has a fear of death by drowning. It works.”
“Look, I have no problem killing a motherfucker, but my body count is nowhere near any of you and all of you know it.” I glare at them all on the little screen.
“Good thing you’ve got Kyrin then,” Brantley says, and I look right at his square. “Because I recognize his damage, and sorry to break it to you, but he’s as fucked up as me.”
“You’re all not helping. B, when you find something, let me know.”
I hang up with them all and toss my phone onto my bed, a sinking feeling vibrating in my gut. I miss my brothers. I miss my life before I found out all of this shit…
Life wasn’t hard. It was easy, and easy was boring. This big fucking house showed for millions, but money didn’t mean shit to me. All of my friends were loved up now. Ready to produce that next line of Elite Kings. No doubt all of their kids would go to Riverside Prep, and then to Riverside Elite University. It’s how our heritage always went, and eventually when they reached of age, they would take their respective roles in our world. Our crazy, fucked-up world. But this was me. What I lived, breathed, and knew. I wouldn’t change it.
There was a knock on my door. I moved through the foyer, pulling open the double doors that opened out onto the front of my house.
A woman stood there. Blonde hair and gray eyes. She didn’t speak. Not a word. She wore a white suit set with shiny white boots.
“Can I help you?” I looked around her to find what car she drove. A white Range Rover Sport.
She handed me a white manilla folder, her flawless face moving to form a small smile. “Read this. Everything you need to know is in it.” She began walking away as I opened it out, flicking through the pages. I saw Lilith straight away, the hot mess she was. You couldn’t just call someone like Lilith Patience beautiful. You had to first explain how she tore it straight from Lucifer’s chest to get it.
“What the fuck is this?”
“You’re a King, aren’t you?” She smirked over her shoulder, opening the door. “Riddles are your thing. You’ll figure it out.” She was driving down the driveway before I could stop her.
She was right. Everything I ever wanted to know was in that folder. I still don’t know what the fuck it means. I push up from the bed and pull out the box that’s under all of my clothes in my suitcase. Taking out the papers, I drop them onto the bed again, beside the new ones Benny sent me.