Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Roman moves fast for a drunk man. His hand locks around Kade’s throat, slamming him back against the wall beside the china cabinet. The dishes rattle. Elena cries out. Saint’s nails dig into my palm hard enough to draw blood.
“You want to know why I never gave you the approval you craved?” Roman’s face is inches from Kade’s, his voice dropping to something quiet and vicious. “Because you’re not worthy of it. You’re Emma Porter’s mistake. A reminder of the one woman who dared to refuse me. And every time I look at you, every time you open your mouth and beg for my attention like a fucking dog, all I see is her.”
Kade’s face is turning red. He claws at Roman’s hand, trying to breathe.
“You want to be a Bishop?” Roman continues. “You want that so badly? Then earn it. Stop whining. Stop questioning. Stop acting like you deserve something just because I let you carry the name.” He releases Kade suddenly, and he drops to the floor gasping. “But let’s be honest, we both know you’ll never earn it. At the end of the day, you’re not my son, not really. You’re hers, and that makes you weak.”
Kade stays on the floor, his hand at his throat, his eyes full of something that looks like death.
Roman has finally gone too far. Not with me. Not with the FBI betrayal. Not even with the revelation about Emma Porter. But with this. By stripping away the one thing Kade has clung to his entire life—the belief that he belonged. That he mattered. That he was worthy of the Bishop name.
Roman has destroyed him. I don’t know if there’s anything left to save.
“This dinner is over,” I say, breaking the silence.
Roman turns to look at me, surprised. Like he’d forgotten I was here.
“Over?” He laughs. “We’re just getting started. We still need to discuss your punishment. What I’m going to do to you and that little whore you brought into my house.”
“Don’t call her that.”
“I’ll call her whatever I want. She’s nothing. A witness who should’ve died weeks ago. The only reason she’s still breathing is because you developed a conscience at the worst possible time.” Roman moves toward the table again, reaching for the whiskey bottle. “That’s about to change.”
I stand, pulling Saint up with me. “We’re leaving.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Try to stop me.”
The words hang in the air. A challenge. A line drawn.
Roman goes very still. Then he smiles, and it’s the coldest thing I’ve ever seen. “You think you’re brave now, Calder? Because the FBI is listening? Because you’ve got your little insurance policy?” He taps his chest, right where my wire is hidden. “You think that’s going to save you?”
“I think you’re drunk and you’ve said enough to bury yourself ten times over. So yes. I think it’s going to save me.”
“Then you’re stupider than I thought.” Roman moves around the table, slow and deliberate. “The FBI can’t move without evidence. And evidence needs to be admissible. Needs to be obtained legally. You think they’re going to be able to use anything from tonight? A recording made without a warrant? In a private home? With a wire that you illegally placed?” He laughs. “Your agent friend should have explained the law better.”
My stomach drops.
Reese said it would be admissible. Said we had legal standing because—
But I can see in Roman’s eyes that he’s thought this through. That maybe he’s known longer than I realized. Known and let me hang myself.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Roman continues, his voice casual now. Almost friendly. “You’re going to give me that wire. Your brothers are going to hold you down while I beat the location of every FBI contact out of you. And then we’re going to solve the problem of your wife once and for all.”
He pulls a gun from his waistband and points it at Saint.
“Or we can just start with her.”
Saint
The gun looks bigger than it should.
Roman pulls it from his waistband with the casual ease of a man who’s done this a thousand times, and suddenly that black metal barrel is the only thing I can see. Everything else fades. The elegant dining room, the crystal chandelier, the brothers frozen around the table. All of it disappears except for that gun and the cold certainty in Roman’s eyes as he aims it at my chest.
“Or we can just start with her,” he says. His voice is almost pleasant like he’s discussing the weather. Like ending my life is just another item on his evening agenda.
My hand is still locked around Calder’s even though we are on our feet now. His fingers tighten, and the sudden tension strums through his entire body like a bow string pulled taut.
Then he’s moving.
One second, he’s standing beside me. The next, he’s shifted, positioning himself between me and the gun with a speed that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size. His body becomes a wall. A shield. The only thing between me and the bullet Roman wants to put in me.