In minutes, both Escalades were pulling up.
Thirteen of the De Langes watched us prepare for war. I wondered if they understood what was happening.
And then one by one, each of them walked up to Asher, put a shaky hand on his shoulder, and kissed his right cheek, only to walk past him and into the waiting SUVs. We didn’t have room for everyone, which Tank solved by driving his truck.
Did Ash realize how dangerous this new alliance would be if his father found out? How dangerous it would be for all of us when the kids realized there was no out once you were in?
Pride filled my chest as every De Lange kid got in. They weren’t even fucking armed, but they had their pride, they wore it like armor.
And without using words.
They swore their alliance, their allegiance.
To the next generation.
To the Elect.
To us.
We had successfully done something that our parents had failed at. We’d given them something to fight for.
We’d given them a reason to fight in the first place.
And we’d given them a leader.
I just hoped like hell that when our dads eventually found out, they didn’t see us as a threat—but a savior.
Annie gave us directions to her house and after arguing with a pissed off Ash, stayed in the car shaking while Serena held her in her arms, some of the other De Lange girls handed her Kleenex while Ash walked in to scout the house with Tank.
When they came back, both of them had empty expressions.
They just got into the car and wordlessly drove every single person back to Nixon’s house.
I gripped Serena’s hand and watched in awe as the gates opened.
And as we let the very “evil” that our parents had tried to destroy.
The very evil that lived in my soul.
Inside the kingdom.
And for one fleeting moment, I had hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, the King who’d just crowned me—would kneel instead of drawing his sword.
Chapter Thirty-One
Serena
The house was quiet. The suits that always waited around the house watched us with horror on their faces, and yet they did nothing.
Because they couldn’t lift a finger to mafia royalty unless the bosses allowed it.
So, in we marched, with the enemy of our fathers shaking next to us.
Wordlessly, Junior and I marched ahead and opened up the door to the basement.
“Downstairs,” Junior barked.
I nodded to him as they all filed down, our own private army, our new family.
The Family of the Elect.
One by one, they made their way into the basement near the ring, Asher and King held up the back of the group.
The door to the basement locked with a resounding click.
And there we stood, lined up in front of them like the generals we were. Ash, me, and Junior in the middle. Maksim, Breaker, King, and Tank on the outside, with Izzy, Annie, and Violet in the middle.
“You know why you’re here,” Ash said in a harsh voice, his face twisted with pain as he looked at each of them, four girls, eight guys.
I pulled out my gun and held it lowered in front of me.
“Yes.” One of them stepped forward; he looked like he was my age, his eyes flickered to mine and then to Asher. “We want in.”
“The minute you got in that car,” Junior said with a smirk. “You already were…” He took a step forward and held out his dagger. “Kneel.”
Shit.
The guy’s jaw flexed, and then he very slowly lowered to his knees as Junior held the knife over his head. With a grimace, Junior dug the knife into his palm and sprinkled the blood over the guy’s bent head.
“Who do you answer to?” Junior barked.
“You,” the guy yelled.
“WHO!” Junior screamed, this time getting in his face. It was a moment I won’t ever forget a moment where a switch was flipped, maybe a moment where blood recognized blood.
The guy looked up into Junior’s face and whispered, “The true heir and our true boss.”
Junior sucked in a sharp breath, and in an instant, I saw a family line go from being cut out—to being reborn.
And the ultimate betrayal to our fathers…
Began.
Every single person swore their loyalty to the De Lange-Nicolasi line, and then to Ash as our leader.
I was emotionally exhausted by the time everything was done. I mean, how did someone explain the rules of the mafia to kids who had only grown up knowing they had to hide from the very thing that created them? The very blood that called to them? Screamed for vengeance from the ground.
“We have a slight problem,” Breaker said once we’d made the formal introductions and basically told them we owned the very blood that ran through their veins.
“Slight?” I almost laughed.
“Oh, this?” He waved his hand around. “This is a big problem, not talking about this. I’m talking about the fact that none of them know how to fight.”