Titan (Dark Kings 1)

“Nick York passed away.”

They pop open. “When?” I demand, and Bones sits up straight, noticing the change in my voice.

“Last week. Heart attack.”

I hang up.

“What was that about?” he asks.

I set my phone on the desk and lean back in my seat. “Nick York passed away. Heart attack.”

His brows rise. “Interesting.”

That is interesting, considering that Bones used to fuck his only daughter. And the fact that his business partner owes us five hundred thousand dollars.

That is very interesting. I pick up my phone and make another call.

EMILEE

Standing at the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks the Las Vegas Strip, I don’t see the casinos or tourists that walk the streets with their phones out, taking picture after picture. Instead, all I see are my blue puffy eyes and runny nose. I quickly wipe the tears away that silently continue to come no matter how much I try to stop them.

My body is heavy. My chest tight, and my heart is shattered.

Two months ago, I found out that my mother was sick. She is going to die; the doctor had said. There is nothing we can do, he had added. I’ve spent the past two months trying to prepare myself to tell her goodbye. To find a way to be at peace that her suffering will end, and she will no longer be in pain.

But I could have never prepared myself for this.

Two days ago

Sitting on the floor in the middle of my Chicago apartment with boxes surrounding me, I have one open between my legs. I’m shoving scarfs into it when I hear my phone ring in the other room.

I let out a long breath, blowing the loose strands from my ponytail off my face as I debate whether I want to answer it or not.

I’ve been avoiding my friends and their endless questions that will come when I answer. I went home to Vegas a couple of months ago and was told that my mother is dying. My time is limited. I had to come back to get a few things in order and pack up my apartment while putting it up for sale. While I was there, one of my best friends, Jasmine, had called me, and I told her what happened. I should have kept my mouth shut, but it was like vomit. I was unable to hold in the emotions that flooded me. I told her. I know she’s spoken to our other best friend Haven by now. She’s been blowing up my phone, but I just don’t have the words. I don’t have the energy to talk about it.

It quits, and I feel relieved. But then it immediately starts up again. Getting to my feet, I step over a few tubs full of clothes and make my way down the hallway to my bedroom at the end. I pick up my phone off my queen-size bed and frown when I see the number.

It’s my father’s business partner. “Hello?” I answer.

“Emilee …” He sighs, and my heart begins to pound.

“Is my mom okay?” I rush out. Maybe my father had to take her to the hospital, and that’s why he didn’t call me himself.

“It’s not her,” he says quietly, and a knot forms in my throat. “You need to get home. Something has happened.”

My father had died.

That was the something. In the middle of a meeting, he stood from his chair and fell to his knees, then went down face-first from a massive heart attack.

“Emilee?”

I jump back from the glass and drop my phone. “Yes?” I sniff, wiping my face once again. Turning around, I see my father’s assistant standing before me. She can’t even give me a smile to comfort me. What little makeup she wore today is smeared across her face. She has worked for my father for over twenty-five years. She took the news as bad as I did because he was like a brother to her.

“He’s ready for you,” she says before turning her back to me and walks over to her desk.

“Thank you,” I mumble so low I’m not even sure if she can hear me. I kneel, picking up my phone off the white marble floor where I had dropped it and bite my bottom lip, trying to calm my breathing. Nervously, I run my hands over my hair. I have it up in a tight bun, and my stomach growls as a result of not eating since … I don’t know when. Food has been the last thing on my mind. And what little I have eaten; I can’t keep down. My nerves keep getting the best of me.

The fear.

The sadness.

The deep fucking hole in my chest.

It’s all too much.

I’m not a stranger to death. My mother’s mom died when I was eight, and I remember her service. How my mom was too weak to stand. My father had to practically carry her back to our car. She couldn’t get out of bed for weeks.