Vicious Minds: Part 3 (Children of Vice 6)

“Welcome to the king’s view,” two women said to me when the elevator opened, handing me a glass of Hennessy, while the other led me forward to the seating area, where Darcy—Killian threw up stacks of hundreds so he could dance underneath it.

Who the fuck was this person?

Did the name change come with a brand-new personality?

“Aye! Wyatt!” He grinned, coming over to me and putting his arm over my shoulders. “Girls, say hey to my big cuz.”

“Hey, Wyatt!” They said in unison like they were in stripper’s choir.

Ignoring them, I looked to my cousin, Killian, as he grinned, dancing. “We need to talk.”

“Party first, talk later,” he said, pulling me forward, and I wondered if this was his way of grieving.

When he moved to leave, I grabbed his arm.

“Not later, now.”

The smile on his face dropped, and when he looked at me, I realized very quickly, this was all just façade. The man staring back at me at this moment was a real monster, and he was telling me to let go or else. That was how he rose so quickly out here. However, I wasn’t all these bitch-ass newbies. I was born in this game, too.

And who the fuck did he think he was dismissing me.

He understood that.

“God, you are always so fucking serious.” He laughed, his smile resurfacing. He handed the remote that I hadn’t noticed he’d been holding, nor did I know what it did, back to one of his girls before motioning for me to follow him to an office behind the seats. He and I didn’t say a word when we were inside, and I noticed the a glint on the glass. It was one way. Meaning we could still look out at the club, but they couldn’t look in. I assumed it was also soundproof. Everything in dark, wooden tones, less flashy, and more…the him I knew.

“Well, what is it?” he asked, drinking and sitting back against the desk.

“You heard what’s happening with the family?” I asked, moving to take a seat on the leather couch, kicking my foot up onto the coffee table.

“Aye! Put your fucking feet down, you savage, that shit is expensive,” he hollered at me and grinned. There was my cousin.

Raising my hands in defense, I moved my feet back down. “And here you were throwing stacks of hundreds over women; I didn’t think you cared.”

“Again, what is it, Wyatt?”

“And again, I asked, did you hear what is happening with the family, Killian?”

“What is there to hear?” he shot back. “People are shooting the family; people are coming for the family, same ol’ same ol’. What does that have to do with me?”

“You do know you are part of this family, right?”

“And you know this family killed my mother, correct?”

I thought he’d spoken to Helen. Exhaling, I sat up straighter. “Killian, your mom was sick.”

“Says who?” he spat. “Calliope? Ethan? Some medical report they gave you? I don’t trust a single fucking thing they say anymore. And I hope she dies, the last picture of her being her laid out in the street like a fucking dog for what she did to my mother.”

I said nothing because there was nothing I could possibly say to his anger. Instead, I shifted. “Uncle Neal has been trying to reach you. Your family phone is off.”

“Oops.”

“Killian, this is not a joke. You are at fucking risk—”

“And I know the fucking risks. Just like I know that if you are being sent around by Uncle Neal, that means you’ve been demoted, cousin. What, gone are the dreams of you being Ethan’s right-hand man, or is it dog?” He chuckled, and once more, that feeling crept up inside like poison.

Breathe.

Let it go.