Tacet a Mortuis (The Elite King's Club 3)

“What the fuck is going on here, son?” Hector asks calmly, not fazed I’m about to get my brains blown out everywhere. My heart pounds in my chest, and goose bumps prickle all over my flesh as fear ripples through me. No. There’s no way. I didn’t survive through all the memories, all the suppressed bullshit, only to go out by his hands. His hands already took so much from me; I won’t let them take my life too.

Bishop steps forward, his lip curled and his eyes black. So black. I’ve not seen this look before; this is feral. Casting a look over his shoulder, Nate is there, the same position, his knuckles cracking. He starts jumping in his spot, cracking his neck as if he’s ready to fight. Which I have no doubt he is. The rest of the boys are there too, ready to throw down if they need to. Whether they know the story or not, I see it right there. Their loyalty to Bishop. It’s unquestionable. This is The Elite Kings in full form.

“Ah!” Lucan presses the gun into my temple more. “Don’t fucking move. Now, since people will be dying tonight, I want to get a few things out there for Silver so she knows the deal.”

“Don’t call me that,” I hiss, my lip slightly curling.

“Hey, I’m doing you a favor.”

“Fuck you.”

He laughs, his breath falling over my neck. I can’t hide the disgust; I dry heave, ready to spill my guts all over the road.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hector asks again.

Where is Brantley? This was all a setup. He and Khales are nowhere to be seen. I look around again, as much as I can from the position I’m in, and sure enough, they’re both not where they were a few minutes ago.

Hate.

“First, let me start with this. Silver, do you know much about the last names of these boys here?”

What?

“The hell has that got to do with you and what you did to me all those years ago?”

“I’ll get to that part.” He grins. I can hear it in his sick voice how much he’s getting out of this, and that’s the thing about age. The tone of your voice is one of the last things to change. Therefore, Lucan still has the same voice.

“What are you doing, Lucan?” Hector warns. His tone should be enough to put the fear of God into Lucan, but it doesn’t, because he continues.

“Hector and Bishop Hayes… Hayes meaning ‘The Devil,’” he starts, and just as I open my mouth to ask another question, his hand slams over it, pausing me. “Everyone shut the fuck up and let me finish, or I swear to God I will shoot her.”

He clears his throat, before smugly murmuring, “Now, where was I? Oh yes, the names. Lucan and Brantley Vitiosus. I’ll get to the meanings of the names and the English translations when I’ve finished.” He laughs. Then his lips skim over my earlobe before he whispers, “And you know how theatrical I can get, don’t ya, Silver?”

The first teardrops, followed by anger. Rage.

He continues, “Max, Saint, and Cash Ditio. Phoenix and Chase Divitae. Raguel, Ace, and Eli Rebellis.” He laughs at these last two. My eyes shoot toward Nate, who is now being held back by Chase and Cash. He looks absolutely feral. The lack of light and smudged tears in my eyes make it hard to view, but even if I couldn’t see it, I could sure as fuck feel it.

Lucan carries on. “Nate Malum-Riverside.” Then he laughs, bringing his lips to my ear again.

I shut my eyes, fighting the bile that’s about to spew out of my mouth from not just his proximity, but his touch. “Johan, Hunter, Jase, and Madison Venari.”

I freeze. All life drains from my face.

“You hear that, Silver? You’re adopted… you and that schizo brother of yours.”

What? More tears spill out of my eyes. This can’t be true. There’s no way. He’s fucking with me. My dad is my dad and my mom was my mom. Lucan is being what he is.

I look at Bishop, who is finally looking directly at me, and I see it. The look. It’s the look he gives me when it’s just us together. His eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are zeroed into mine.

Not only is it true, but he knew.

Sobs wrack through my body, and my knees buckle, but Lucan yanks me back up. “Careful, careful… maybe you can talk with your man here about the meanings of those last names and what they mean in regards to each family’s duty in the Kings, but let me tell you this, Silver,” he whispers so harshly into my ear. “When you know all there is to know about this—they will kill you.”

I don’t care.

I’m adopted. My whole life was a lie. I was wrong. I can’t trust anyone. I can only trust Daemon. Daemon. His face lights up inside my head, but instead of it soothing me, it brings on another set of tears.