They would never stop manipulating, lying, or abusing their power.
My father could be a kind and reasonable man. Or at least, he could seem that way, as long as he got what he wanted. But wasn’t that what a bully was? Someone who acted generous and magnanimous as long as no one crossed them or got in their way?
But I had dared to deny my father what he wanted.
The Lost Boys had dared to exist, to be loved by me.
And my father had set out to make us all pay for that.
Claudio’s eyes widened, and he gave a low grunt that I couldn’t quite interpret. Then he shook his head, seeming to comp
artmentalize his reaction to the news, and focused in on Misael.
“You shot?”
“Yeah.” Misael shrugged his good shoulder. “Not bad though.”
The look that passed over Claudio’s face was the most fatherly expression I’d ever seen him wear. Worry mixed with a fierce sort of pride.
“Come on. We’ll go back to the club. Get you patched up.” He jerked his head toward the door, then turned to the men who had come in with him. “Check our exit.”
They nodded and slid silently out the door like ghosts. Bishop’s phone chimed a second later, and he answered immediately, stepping away as Claudio tore a strip of fabric from one of the dead men’s shirts. I helped him wrap it around Misael’s injured shoulder, and even though my stomach turned at the sight of the blood smeared over his skin, I felt better doing something.
He was paler than normal, his caramel skin looking a little gray in the dim light, but his eyes were bright, and he seemed alert. Still, I was anxious to get him back to Claudio’s club and the promised medical attention.
Bishop returned a second later, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “We might have to hold off on heading to the club. Nathaniel’s on his way. And he’s pissed as fuck.”
His voice was grim, and a shiver ran down my spine, even though I doubted Nathaniel’s anger was directed at any of us. I had seen him mad though, and I had no desire to see it again. He was terrifying as a vengeful god when he was furious.
“Come on, Princess.”
Kace didn’t even ask before tucking the gun into the waistband of his pants and sweeping me into his arms. I wrapped my own arms around his neck, letting him hold me as we all stepped out into the hallway and headed for the front entrance.
We passed two bodies in the hall, but I made an effort not to look at them. I was sure I would see the cloth covered face of the man Misael had shot and Eli’s limp, lifeless form in my dreams far too often. I didn’t want to add to the images that would come back to haunt me over and over.
By the time we got outside, two more cars were pulling up. My gaze shot to the crumpled frame of Bishop’s car in the distance, and my stomach pitched. I held onto Kace tighter, burying my face in his chest for a moment and just trying to absorb the fact that he was still alive. That we all were.
Against all odds, we were all still here.
When I looked up again, the back of one of the sleek black sedans opened and Nathaniel Ward stepped out. I gave a little wriggle, and Kace set me down, although he kept his arms wrapped around my waist, his solid body supporting me from behind. The cracked pavement was cold, and stones dug into my feet, but I needed to stand to face Nathaniel.
The three Lost Boys all gathered around me, their protectiveness obvious as the older man strode toward us. Bishop and Misael each stood close on either side of me, and Claudio and his men stood a little apart.
Just like Claudio had, Nathaniel took in the sight of us and seemed to process it quickly. These men thought fast and acted fast, and they didn’t waste time on shock or disbelief.
“What happened?” he asked.
Bishop, Kace, Misael, and I explained everything, going into more detail than we had with Claudio. I could see Misael’s father listening intently though, and I wondered for a moment if Nathaniel would stop us—if he wouldn’t want to have this debrief in front of a man who wasn’t part of his crew.
But he didn’t interrupt once, just listened carefully as we laid out the events of the evening. His expression darkened, and when we finished, he dipped his head in a sharp nod. His gaze moved over all of us, landing on Misael last.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Bullet clipped me, but it’s not bad.”
Nathaniel nodded once more. “Good. Because I think we need to pay Mr. Van Rensselaer a visit.”
Twenty-One