In Peace Lies Havoc (Midnight Mayhem 1)

We all make our way back into the tent when Delila pulls me behind a curtain and shoves a new outfit in my hands. “Change.”

I take them from her, yanking off my clothes and King’s shirt. “What is he going to make me do?”

I peek my head out of the hole and catch Delila watching me. “Anything he wants. Killian is a show all on his own, but he’s also fascinated by you.”

“Why me?”

Delila smirks, tossing me her lipstick. I pull it open and swipe the bright red balm over my lips. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough, but for now, just go with it.”

“What’s after Killian’s show?”

“The girls have theirs. The acrobats, the aerials, and the hoops with the bikes, and then Kyrin plays fire. The next time you’ll be up is the closing act.”

“Closing act?” I ask, eyebrow raised as I watch her in the mirror.

She smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. It’s a smile that you give someone when you know something they don’t. Which she does. “Yes.” She looks over her shoulder and grins, just before she disappears. “Did I mention that this show is rated R?”

Fuck.

Past

Dad locked his door when he got home from work later that night, a cigar hanging from between his teeth. He was agitated more than usual. My father was a sinner, and he did it well, but something was annoying him even more. Enough for me to pick it up as he stumbled through the house. He never stumbled. Ever the calm and collected muse for any mobster, his steps were always calculated and were never taken without him knowing the next twenty he was going to take after that. For all of my sixteen years, I had known that this day was coming. I sensed it in the water like a shark would blood, because that’s how I was trained. With my senses and not so much my words.

I padded through the hallway of our mansion, passing the perfectly painted family portraits of us. They always said that one kid was enough for them and that they never needed three... Whatever the fuck that meant. My hand came to the golden handle of his office, and I pressed it down, shoving the door open. It was dark, as dark as his mahogany office desk that sat perfectly in the middle. Bookcases filled the walls, from the floor to the ceiling, and the only form of light that was pouring in came from the full moon, beaconing through the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the front of our plantation-style home.

“Dad…”

“Sit.” His voice was low, sounding as though he had swallowed a handful of gravel before saying it. Unlike me, Father was good with his words. He had to be.

I took a few more steps in until I was dropping down onto the chair that was tucked underneath his desk.

“Este timpul, son.” It’s time, son.

I shook my head. “I’m not ready.”

His head, that was bowed between his shoulder blades, raised, his eyes connecting with mine. “You’re ready, son. The only reason why you think you’re not is because I’m here.”

I scratched over my heart, where my Sons of Kiznitch tattoo was stamped. His eyes followed the movement, a smirk touching the corners of his mouth. My father spoke fluent English, but Romanian was his first language, because it’s the land of our family. We moved between Greek and Latin, but Latin was the language we mostly used, with it being the original language of our country. Of us. “You need to rise. You need to gather your brothers and begin your journey.”

“I’m sixteen,” I blurted out through my amateur mouth. Of all the things I could’ve thought of, ‘I’m sixteen’ was the first thing that came spewing out. Like it mattered. Like the fact I was sixteen had stopped me from committing the most heinous crimes. Like the fact just a few months ago, I killed for the first time. Or the fact when I was but a child, I became so obsessed with someone who would later become a pawn on my chessboard. That I would eventually do anything to be near her—even if that meant breaking her in the process, because breaking her only meant that I was close enough to her to do it.

Dad sank back in his chair, opening a drawer and slapping down a manila folder. “Delila needs you. All of you. Whether you think you’re ready or not, King, it’s time for you to do what you’ve been training your whole life to do. We’ve done our rounds. It’s time for you to start yours.”

“But you, Uncle Kratos, and—”

“They all agree.” He brought his eyes to mine, pinning me with his stare. “It is time, Kingston. You need to reign. You need to fulfill all that I have left for you to do.”