Cruel War (The Gilded Sovereign 1)

“Don’t talk to me as if I’m your soldier, boy,” Abner bites out, gripping the younger man by the shirt and hoisting him up as if he weighs nothing.

Philipe Lancaster.

Ares’ older brother.

“Take her down to the dungeon, she wants to see her daddy dearest. She has one hour. I’m heading to the hospital to bring Ares home.”

A phone rings shrilly from somewhere in the house, but it doesn’t sound for very long, and I wonder if they have a maid or butler who answers calls.

“Sure, I can look after the princess,” Philipe mutters. Disdain paints his handsome face. He pulls me to my feet by my muddied dress and practically drags me behind him.

“Oh, and Dahlia…” Abner says, “make sure you say your goodbyes, your father will be dead by morning.” The older man saunters out of the room and disappears from sight before I’m stumbling behind Philipe again. We reach a locked door, which looks like it’s made of steel. Just behind us is the kitchen.

Steps lead us down into darkness, but it doesn’t last long, because Philipe snaps a switch on the wall, and soon enough, we’re bathed in the yellow glow of a lamp that hangs from the center of a low ceiling.

“One hour.” His voice reminds me far too much of Ares, and my heart aches for the boy, the man who I’ve fallen for. The tape is ripped from my mouth, causing me to wince and whimper in agony.

He leaves my hands bound, but he unlocks the gate and shoves me into the cell that stinks of sweat, blood, and urine. And then I’m alone with a hunched-up body, which doesn’t move from the corner of the small square prison.

“Dad?”

32

Dahlia

The sound of shuffling comes from the huddle in the corner. I watch him move, and the moment those familiar blue eyes meet mine, I fall to my knees.

“Daddy?”

“Dahli?” He croaks, moving toward me. The moment the dim light hits his face, I cringe, noticing the scars that mar his once handsome face. “Why are you here?”

“I-I… Abner… he brought me here,” I tell him as tears stream down my cheeks, burning with emotion as they drip from my chin, soaking the material of my dress.

“I never wanted you here,” Dad tells me. “You don’t belong in this town. It’s filled with darkness.” My father doesn’t make a move to touch me or to come closer than he already is. His clothes are dirty, caked in filth that’s become part of the material.

“I don’t understand why you never told me about this. Why did you let Fergus tell me you’re dead?”

“That wasn’t me. Abner orchestrated everything that you heard about my disappearance. Fergus was meant to step up as one of the Crowns, but he didn’t agree with the way Abner ran things. However,” my dad whispers, the tone of his voice is low, scratchy, and I wonder when he’s last had a drink of water or something warm to eat. “He still did odd jobs for the man. I didn’t know.”

“So all these years he’s been working with Mr. Lancaster?”

Dad nods, shifting on his heels, as he crouches down, curling himself into a ball. He groans, low and feral. When he looks up at me again, I see the agony in his eyes.

“I wish they’d just kill me and let it be over with.”

“Don’t say that,” I cry as the memory of his funeral flashes in my mind as if it were yesterday. I cried, I bawled my eyes out, kneeling on the soft, wet earth beside the hole I thought my father’s body was being lowered into.

“Dahli, my sweet girl,” Dad murmurs, “I’ve lived my life, I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and most of the things I did were to keep you safe. Protected. I failed in so many ways.”

“You never failed me.” Confidence burns through me, and I can no longer take it, shuffling toward him, I pull my dad into a hug. “Tell me,” I start, nervous about taking the leap, but I know I have to. “Did you kill Ares’ mother?” Guilt swims in his pain-filled eyes, and I have my answer without him even uttering a word.

He nods slowly. “I did. I shot her in the foyer of their home.” My father’s voice is raspy when he admits it. “Abner told me if I didn’t do it, he’d come for you. He wanted to kill you. He stole your mother, and he would’ve taken you, too.”

“He stole mom?”

“She loved him for a long time.” His admission makes my chest hurt. “I couldn’t save her, but I could save you.” Dad pulls me into a hold, keeping me warm in the chilliness of the cell. And I wonder if I’ll ever see my mother again because I have a feeling she’s probably still alive.