Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
I want to scream in his face. The injustice of this situation. Sam’s an idiot, but he’s not dangerous and he’s not a traitor. He only wants to feel like he’s bigger than he is, and instead he got in deep, drowning in his own grand vision of power and influence. All over some stupid poker games.
I hate it, but Brenden’s right. If I tell my father that might risk triggering a serious confrontation, and I don’t think my family will survive it. They’re all involved with the Brotherhood at some level, except for Miriam and Tate, but they’ll probably get dragged in too before it’s all done.
How many siblings will I have left once the blood dries?
Damn him. I’m so angry with Brenden I can barely breathe.
“I understand why you did it.” I turn my back on him to keep myself from breaking down. “But I can’t forgive you right now. Not after what you did to Davit. You lied, Brenden. You kept this from me when you should have told me right away. We could have figured it out together.”
“I didn’t know.” His voice is hoarse and more emotional than I’ve ever heard. “What this is…”
He trails off, but I know what he means. That only makes it harder.
“Don’t come home.”
“Tallie—“
“I need time to think. Stay here and don’t come home.”
He grunts in reply like I’ve stabbed him in the guts.
“I’m going to the bank tomorrow. I’m opening the safe deposit box.”
“Then I’ll meet you there.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“Like I’m going to let you do anything without me now?” I glare at him over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you at nine sharp. Don’t fuck me over again.”
“I tried to protect you. I really did.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t feel that way.”
I shove out through the door. In the hall, I give myself permission to break, ever so slightly. I choke out an angry sob but quickly bottle it back up again. This nightmare is far from over and I can’t let myself fall apart before it’s over.
I know Brenden had no choice. I know it on a rational level, but emotionally I can barely take it. The way he went about things, the way he hid this from me only to reveal it through some stupid, childish game, and his insistence that he’s doing the right thing only pisses me off even more.
My family’s future is on the line and I had a right to know sooner.
Still, he told me, and he did go against Arsen to protect Sam.
I’m dizzy and overwhelmed. There has to be a way out of this. Some way to protect my brother.
And as much as I hate it, I’m going to have to work with Brenden to figure out how, because I can’t do it on my own.
CHAPTER 21
TALIN
“Ifucking hate this thing.” He adjusts the collar of his suit and rolls his shoulders. I watch and try very hard not to smile, which only seems to annoy him more.
“Come on, you look so handsome.” I tug at his shoulder seam and try to adjust the shape. “Just like a beautiful used car salesman.”
“You’re not helpful.”
“Who said I was trying to be helpful?”
We stride toward The Bridled Trust, its old copper-and-gold sign hanging out front of what looks like a Roman senatorial building. Ancient white columns, probably not more than a few decades old at most, flank a massive glass door. An old, tired-looking security guard lingers out front and shifts to block our way.
“Good morning, sir, ma’am, are you members of the bank?”
Brenden opens his mouth to reply but I squeeze his arm and take over instead. “Yes, hello, my grandfather recently passed and left us this silly key thing in his will. Do you have it, Reginald? I do hope so seeing as I left my bag with the driver and I’d very much hate to fetch the car again, not in these shoes.” I beam at the guard.
He squints at us as Brenden fumbles with his pocket and produces the key. “I believe this is what you’re after, darling.”
“That’s the ticket.” I snatch it from his hand and hold it toward the guard. “Yes, I do believe this opens some sort of magical box in your fine establishment? Excuse my ignorance but I haven’t been in a bank in ages.”
“You’ve never been in a bank,” Brenden says with a haughty snort, patting my hand, and I’m impressed at how easily he’s taken to the characters we established. “Banks don’t agree with her constitution.”
“Right this way, please.” The guard opens the door for us and steps aside. “Mr. Wright will be along to help shortly.”
The interior of The Bridled Trust is an obscene monument to old money opulence. Everything shines with precious metals. The walls are wood paneled, the ceilings are absurdly high, and the floor is marble buffed so smooth that my grip on Brenden isn’t only about keeping up appearances.