Cross (Dark Kings 3)

PLAYLIST

“Legends” by Sam Tinnesz

“Crazy” by LOWBORN

“King of the World” by WAR*HALL

“Buttons” by The Pussycat Dolls

“Raging on a Sunday” by Bohnes

“New Kings” by Sleeping Wolf

“Play With Fire” by Sam Tinnesz, Yacht Money

PROLOGUE

CROSS

Thirteen years old . . .

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON,” my mother says softly to me while we stand at the entrance of Oak Grove, my father’s church.

I hate being here after hours. It gives me the creeps. The walls creak, and the wind always makes the old, stained windows rattle. It gives me a feeling so deep down in my bones that I’m cold for hours after I leave. I can’t explain it, but it feels like evil is inside these walls. Which is stupid since this is a place of worship where people come to heal—God’s house. My father says it has power, but I have yet to see that. I have never witnessed a miracle that couldn’t be explained by science.

I step back from her, forcing her hands off my shoulders, and take a quick look around the empty structure. “Why are we here?” I ask, my hands shaking nervously. It’s past midnight and officially my thirteenth birthday. She woke me from my bed and said we had to go for a drive.

Lowering her eyes, she sighs deeply, forcing my heart rate to speed up. “Mom …?”

“Son,” my father’s voice booms behind me, and I spin around to see him walking our way. He’s dressed in his business attire—a black button-down shirt with black slacks and a matching suit jacket. His dark hair is slicked back, and his face is freshly shaved. You wouldn’t know just by looking at him that he’s worth billions of dollars.

He comes to a stop and removes his hands from his front pockets, crossing them in front of him. The black ring in the shape of a crown on his right ring finger tells the world that he’s a member of the Three Wisemen. It’s a reminder that my father may play the martyr, but he does the work of the devil.

He and his two best friends started Kingdom—the largest, most corrupt hotel and casino here in Sin City. They each play their part outside their gilded cage. The only difference is they asked for their prison sentence. My father likes to pretend he’s a disciple of God. That he does his work of ridding the world of evil. When the truth is, he creates it. He takes whatever the sinners have to offer and promises redemption, but instead, he feeds it to the devil as an offering.

Their sins are his currency. Knowledge makes you rich and powerful.

I take a step back from him, needing the space, and bump into my mother. Sidestepping quickly, I move to where I can see them both at the same time, whipping my head back and forth. “I wanna go home,” I manage to get out, trying to calm my nerves when I want to scream. Why am I here? My father makes me attend church on Sundays when the congregation is present. That way, he can show off his perfect family along with the other Three Wisemen and their families. Appearance is everything in this city. Without a kingdom, there is no need for a King to rule.

“It’s time,” he states, walking over to me.

“For what?” I ask. My voice squeaks, and I want to punch myself for acting like such a little bitch.

Placing his hand on my back, he ushers me through the double doors and down the aisle. “The Lord forgives all sins until we reach the age of thirteen.”

I look over my shoulder to see if my mother has followed us, and she has. She stands at the back in front of the double doors, just staring at us. “Yes, Father.” But I’ve been saved since I was three. He reminds me every day that I’m a son of the Lord.

He looks down at me, giving me a kind smile, but it doesn’t ease my fear. His green eyes look even brighter from the candlelight. I got his eyes, and I hate it. I wonder what he sold in order to get a son—an heir to continue his legacy once he’s passed. His death can’t come soon enough if you ask me. “Today, you have reached that age—age of accountability.”

I have done a little research on this, but as far as I can find, there is no such thing in the Bible that states we must be saved by the age of thirteen. But I will never tell him that. No one argues with my father. His word is as strong as God’s. “Yes, Father,” I agree once again.

“You must repent for your sins.”

My body begins to tremble at his choice of words, and I pray that he doesn’t notice. Sins? What have I done? He is the one who pretends. I hear the stories around town. The way kids look at me and my friends at school. Evil doesn’t just walk among us. It also lives in our houses. It intertwines itself in our everyday life so you can’t break free. We’re being trained, conditioned to take it over one day. We don’t have a choice. We will be the Kings. The question is, what will we do with it?