Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 151097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 504(@300wpm)
“And you all agree with this shit?” I shouted at the silent table. “No one finds it fucking weird that she’s our fucking cousin? This is the twenty-first fucking century. Even James knew better.” I directed that last part at my father, who idolized the father of the Fola. Still, no one at the table said a word or stood up for Niamh, who was only eighteen fucking years old. She regularly babysat for the men around this table, helped a few of them study to get their GED, always remembered everyone’s birthday, patched our wounds when one of us took a bullet or a knife, and always showed love no matter what. “No, of course not,” I said with open disdain. “Fucking pussies would rather cower under my father’s heel than risk being trampled by it.”
Or maybe they were all just hoping my father would disown me and pick one of them.
“Are you done, son?”
Shoving away from my chair, I stood. I’ve known since I was a kid that my father wasn’t sane, but he was so much worse than having a few screws loose because morals and madness were not mutually exclusive. A man with no conscience was infinitely more dangerous. “Yeah, I’m fucking done. Plan all you want, but I ain’t marrying Niamh.”
My father shoved to his feet as well. “You will do as you’re told!”
The crystals in the chandelier above the table shook at the end of his roar. The men around the table looked at each other nervously. The room my mother was having renovated was right above us. One of the contractors probably dropped something, but my father capteans couldn’t see through their fear, so instead of reaching for reason, the trembling chandelier added to the imagined omnipotence of my father.
I palmed my face.
I’m surrounded by weak and idiotic sycophants.
Not for long.
“Aye, I can’t lie. I think Ocean’s right,” Diontay said hesitantly. I forgot all about my father as I watched Dion lean forward to meet the gaze of everyone at the table. “I’m not down with this inbreeding shit. Y’all might be able to look away because it ain’t you, but I’m not dumb enough to believe it will stop with Ocean and Niamh.” Wrinkling his nose, he sat back in his chair and freed a blunt from his pocket. “There’s a planet full of bitches just itching to fill that spot,” he said as he lit up. “I know we all about blood ties and shit, but this is taking it too far.” Meeting my gaze, he nodded.
A heavy weight gradually lifted from my shoulders as pride and appreciation burrowed into my chest. Dion was our youngest captean. He was loyal, hungry, and smart as hell. He oversaw our weapons caches as well as the distribution and shipments in and out of Black Veil. Among all the Fola’s capteans, Diontay’s division was the largest. He had more soldiers under his direct command than even me because if anyone ever got their hands on just one of our armories, it would be an all-out war.
Fortunately, he was sitting on my side of the table, but that was by design since he had his position because of me. My father was power hungry, but he lacked vision and didn’t trust the younger generation. That’s where I came in. I gave them power, a voice, and a bigger slice of the pie. In return, they made sure that when I inevitably went to war with my father, I would win.
“Sorry, Unc. I’m with Diontay and Ocean on this one,” Keefe said. There were murmurs and faint nods of agreement all around.
Without a word of warning, my father pulled his gun and fired.
“Aargh!” Diontay flew back in his chair, hitting the floor while a chorus of shouts and curses rang out around us. My cousins all reached for their guns out of self-preservation, but one look from me had them pulling their hands away and relaxing in their chairs again.
“Diontay!” Rodney, his father, shot out of his seat and over to his bleeding son, who was clutching his shoulder. Seeing Dion still alive, Rodney looked down the table at my father with eyes full of rage. “You shot my fucking son! You could have killed him!”
“It was a shame that I didn’t,” my father stated coldly. “Anyone else want to express their objections?” The room fell silent again. Only Dion’s pained grunts could be heard as he writhed on the floor. “I didn’t fucking think so.” My father regarded me with a look that said if he had a spare heir, I’d be fertilizing my mother’s garden. “Son…do not think for one second that I will not put you down if you prove useless to me. For your mother’s sake, I’ll give you until la Nollaige2 to understand who runs this shit. Now get the fuck out of my sight. You’re all dismissed.”