Corrupt Kingdom

The man looks back at me and then turns to the other man. “How long have you been working for Boris?” he asks.

Whatever the man does or says has things going tense.

I can’t understand what he says, but something is not right. Before I can reach for the gun tucked in the back of my pants, I’m grabbed from the front.

“Out.” I hear, and I’m being forced forward.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

Cyrus and Tobias’s men come out. It’s pandemonium. Shots are fired. Bullets fly through the air.

It’s an all-out war. Bodies start to drop. I try to run away, but the man holding me, the man in the suit, grabs me and pulls me in front of him.

Cyrus steps out from where he was fighting.

It almost reminds me of an old-fashioned showdown, except I’m being held hostage.

If only I could grab my gun.

But I know it’s impossible. Even from this angle where this man holds me in front of him, there is no way I’d be able to get to it. Especially since I have a knife cutting my neck to stop me from moving

“Cyrus Reed,” the man states. He knows him.

“Alexander.”

But the voice holds no warmth, just malice.

“She’s quite lovely. I have to assume Boris is dead.”

“You assume right.”

“Well, then I thank you for delivering my new pet.”

Cyrus’s jaw clenches.

“Hopefully, she outlasts the last few. Few last long. None as long as—”

“Shut the fuck up.” Cyrus lifts his gun.

“You always did have a soft spot for my pets,” the man I now know as Alexander says. “I wonder if when I fuck her in the as—”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, this one is important. Dare I say more than Sybil?”

Sybil?

My brain tries to catch up to what I’m hearing. Who is Sybil? It sounds so familiar.

Sybil.

Cyrus steps forward. He doesn’t have a clean shot. The only way to shoot him is through me.

But by the look in Cyrus’s eyes, it’s a possibility.

“Dear Cyrus. Why all the theatrics? Is that any way to greet your brother-in-law?”

And then all the pieces click together.

His first pet.

His favorite pet.

His broken pet is Cyrus’s sister.

The knowledge swirls inside me like a venomous snake with a need to strike, and before I can think of why I shouldn’t, I do. I strike. Not caring what happens to me, I move my body. Throwing my head back, I bash his nose, then drop to the floor.

“Don’t ever speak of my sister.” The gun raises, and the shot is fired.

The sound of his body hitting the floor ricochets like the bullet flying.

Cyrus dashes toward me, his arms coming around me.

“Why did you do that?” he asks.

“You were talking too much.” I laugh.

“You could have died.” He lifts his finger and swipes the blood from where the knife grazed my skin.

“But I didn’t.”

“Thank you,” he says. Lowering his mouth to mine, he says, “Thank you for bringing me peace.”

I know what his sister’s death brought him, and this was my way of thanking him.

49

Cyrus

I cradle her in my arms. Tightly. That was close. Too close.

But in the end, Ivy, being Ivy, did what she had to do. This woman will be the death of me. She is strong, smart, and she is my equal match. Now if only I could keep her.

I can’t, though, and I know this. If I do, she will always wonder if what we had was real. I will always wonder it too. We came together because I took her. She never came to me of her own free will.

I know what I have to do.

I have to let her go. There is just one thing I need to do first.

Pulling out my cell phone, I hit the contact. “Bring him in.”

Ivy is still in my arms, but at the sound of more feet, she takes a step away from me.

“Dad?” Her voice rises a pitch.

“What we do with him is up to you,” I tell her. She looks at me, her eyes wide. No daughter should ever have to make this choice, but I won’t take it away from her. She deserves it. Everything that has ever happened to her is because of this man.

“Help me, Ivy.”

At that, she laughs. She pulls completely away from me and stalks toward him. When she is standing in front of him, I notice the gun in her hand.

I step toward her, putting my hand on the barrel and turning it toward the ground.

“What are you doing?” she asks me.

“I can’t let you do that.”

Her mouth opens and closes before I take the gun out of her hand.

“You will get justice.”

“Will you kill him?” she asks me. “I don’t want another death on your hands.”

“Why?” I say, cocking my head at her.

She leans up and places her lips on mine. “You are a good man.”

“I won’t kill him.”