Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61523 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
“Come up here, please.”
My jaw locks around a nasty lack of choice. He’s taken away my autonomy completely by separating me from my brothers, and he knows it. But he’ll be the only fool if he thinks my compliance is built to last. I will be ruining him and this place and all these men when the time is right.
I vow it.
Weaving through the agitated group of wealthy pricks, I make my way to the front, only stopping when my uncle sets a hand atop my shoulder and spins me to face the room. My body is stiff, and my eyes scan the space for threats.
“Gentlemen, I know some of you are wondering about the presence of Calloway here, as most of you know him as a member of our blue-collar class,” my uncle announces. “I understand the confusion, but I want you to set aside your preconceived notions about who he is or where he comes from and treat him as one of your own.” He chuckles. “Calloway is my nephew.”
There are a few subtle inhales at the unexpected news, and a quiet murmur of hushed and hurried whispers follows swiftly. Naturally, my ears don’t disappoint. I can hear every fucked-up thing they say about my blue-collar background and orphaned childhood, but I shut it out as quickly as it starts.
Opinions of assholes like these are irrelevant, and letting their nonsense clutter my mind will unnecessarily dull my senses.
“He’s one of us, of the fourth, previously thought to be extinct, noble bloodline,” Lucian continues, shaking my body with a tight squeeze of his still-present hand. “And as such, is a key piece of the Council’s long-standing goal for racial purity. If we’re to be the best, we need the best. And Calloway…is the best. Understand?”
There’s a low murmur of understanding and begrudged agreement, but for my part, I’m reeling over the news.
Not only are my brothers and I elite, but our mother was of the fourth bloodline that went extinct decades ago? I’m shocked.
But I’m also fucking over this ostentatious display.
Without waiting for permission, I step out from my uncle’s hold and back into the crowd, carving my way to the back of the room.
A couple of men laugh, and my uncle joins in—relishing the cute little display of obstinance from their pawn—and then continues with his speech.
“We’ll be moving now to the observation room on the second floor. Don’t worry about your drinks—there’s a bar up there—just follow us swiftly, if you would, to prevent any commingling with the women in the hallway.”
As the men file out into the hall, chuckling and festering in evil rapture, a small group of men congregates at my uncle, who is, once again, flagging me over.
Frustrated, I down the glass of bourbon before setting it aside and stride toward them, anger clinging to me like a sturdy companion. It’s as though Rook cloaked me in his personality for good measure. He’s always been a grumpy-as-fuck bastard.
“Calloway, before we adjourn to the viewing room, I just wanted you to meet my brothers,” Lucian declares, effectively drawing my eyes to the three men beside him in a snap.
His brothers, meaning one of these men is my father.
It’s the second time he’s caught me off guard in the last five minutes, and by the smile on his face, he’s reveling in it.
Regardless, I log information about our sperm donors as both a matter of confirmation and information. The more I know about the men who decided not to raise us, the more ruthless I’ll be able to be when I destroy them.
Tall, intimidating, and sickeningly unbothered, my father is immediately recognizable. But of course he is—I, unfortunately, am his spitting image. From our hair to our posture, to the slightly outward camber of our feet, we are of the same blueprint.
He greets me with a jerk of his chin and zero relational warmth, and I return the favor with a look of disgust. The inside, evidently, is where the similarities run dry.
And then he laughs. “I don’t know, Lucian. I know you said he’s mine, but I don’t really see the resemblance,” he mocks, actively ignoring my matching brown hair, blue eyes, and sharp jaw for a chance at a low blow. “Looks like any other poor fuck playing dress-up in fancy clothes to me.”
“Please, Cassian, practice some decorum, I beg of you,” Lucian chastises, though his anger falls well short of his eyes. “This isn’t the setting for uncivilized behavior.”
Good news? I now know my father’s name is Cassian. Bad news? He’s a fucking piece of shit.
Cassian just keeps laughing, and the two other men—one blond and one dark-haired—laugh right along with him. They don’t hesitate to look in my direction the entire time. They want me to feel uncomfortable. They want me to know they think I’m the butt of the joke.