Betrayed by Truths (Truth or Lies 2)

Enzo doesn’t react to Archard’s words. He doesn’t get emotional at the thought of his father being dead. I don’t know what that means, but I suspect he didn’t have any better relationship with his father than I did with mine. At least his father was honest about him about this world.

I wonder how his father died, but neither Enzo nor Archard explain. I don’t know how old his father was or what his health condition was like, but if what Archard said was true, even the winner is at risk of dying young. Black may have all the riches of the world, but also the enemies. It’s a dangerous job.

Do I even want to become the next Black? I would have to do the job. Be ruthless. Order people dead to protect my own. Could I do such a thing?

I stare at Enzo across from me. Tall, dark, handsome. But also merciless, powerful, God-like. He’s muscle, steel, and strength.

He was bred for this.

Trained for this.

He’s been doing the job for the last three years. He was brought up by a father who won and knew what it would take to continue to win.

While I grew up in a trailer park with nothing.

No mother. Barely a father.

No money.

No food.

No energy to form muscles needed to fight.

No guns to wield as weapons to learn how to fire. And after being broken by the worst of men, I’m even weaker than before. I have no chance of winning. None.

This battle is worse than the odds of David and Goliath. David did win, but that was fictional. This is real—and I won’t bet on me winning.

“When do we find out what the games are? When will they take place?” I ask.

“You will be given at least twenty-four-hours notice of when and where each game will take place along with any items you need to complete the task. Your fathers determined the rules of each game and when the rules of the game will be revealed. The first game rules, as determined by your father Miss Miller, will not be revealed until the game starts,” Archard says.

Fucking father. He couldn’t even give me a warning to allow me a day or two to prepare for his stupid game. Unless the game is surviving the longest without food, I have no chance of winning.

I might as well surrender now. The sooner I lose, the sooner Enzo might let me leave. The sooner I will be free.

“When does the first game start? Is this our twenty-four-hour warning to the first game?” I ask.

“First, I need you both to sign, agreeing you are the heirs who will be playing, and then I will set everything in motion. It will take a day or two at least to get things sorted, and then I will notify you both twenty-four-hours before the first round. This isn’t that warning.”

Archard slides the papers to me. I sign below my name I wrote practically in crayon when I was five and agreed one person from my generation would fight.

Except I’m the only one from my generation. I’m the only chance the Millers have of winning.

I slide the paper across to Enzo. He signs and then glances to the door behind him.

Langston and Zeke enter.

I frown. I’m sure they were listening to everything as well. Why does he get henchmen to help him while I get nothing?

“Sir, there is a situation at Surrender,” Zeke says.

Enzo nods. “I’ll be right there.”

“No,” Archard answers.

We all freeze.

Archard turns to Enzo. “You are no longer Black. You should have never claimed the title to begin with. You no longer get to make any decisions or wield any power.”