Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
After I yelled at the Lord to let the police book me or get me out, I was released and was told that I needed to see them immediately. So here we are.
I enter the Cathedral and walk down the aisle to see two Lords standing at the altar, masks and cloaks on. I fall down into the front pew, placing my arms across the back, still dressed in my bloody clothes. “You wanted to see me.” My eyes look up to the loft and see the baptism pool is empty. “No water this time?” I snort. “Don’t feel like drowning me today.”
One steps forward. “Tyson—”
“Get to the point as to why I’m here.”
“We failed you,” the Lord on the left says, and my stomach drops at the words. The Lords never admit when they are wrong because, in their eyes, they never are.
“I … I don’t understand,” I stammer, rubbing my hands on my bloody jeans.
“Son, we did not give you the assignment to take Whitney Minson on as your chosen. Or to dig into Frank.”
I stand, running a hand down my face. “You did.”
“No. You were tricked.”
The wind is knocked out of me, and I fall into the pew. Bowing my head, I reach up and grip my hair.
“You’re all over the news…” He trails off.
My father told me, but I haven’t seen it.
“The State Senator’s son arrested for pregnant woman’s murder…” He trails off, and I get to my feet and start to pace as he goes on. “They said you stalked her…”
“Because I was told to make it look public,” I shout. “You told me to make sure everyone knew she was mine.” It was stupid, but you don’t question the Lords. You do whatever they want, no matter how big or small.
“That you raped her.” He goes on. “That you robbed that poor, innocent girl of her life. We can make it go away. And once we do, it’ll be as if this never happened, but it’ll cost you.”
“How much?” I swallow the lump in my throat, knowing it won’t be money.
“Your title,” he answers.
I come to a stop and glare at their fucking masks. “You’re telling me I’ve given you three years of my life for you to take it away?”
“Tyson—”
“Three fucking years and all you can do is fucking nothing?” My body is vibrating with the anger bubbling in me. “How did this fucking happen?”
One of them sighs. “The best we can come up with is that Frank set you up.”
My legs give out, and I fall into the pew once again.
“He wanted you to go to prison for killing his daughter. She either went along with it, or he had her killed.”
I’m guessing the latter. She had been trying to set me up to get her pregnant. I highly doubt he killed his daughter just to put me away. No, instead, he’ll make her live the rest of her life in hiding. I rub my hands on my jeans. “So … I lose my title. Then what? You guys kick me out?”
“We are willing to give you Blackout. Free and clear. The land, the building. You remain a Lord, but you don’t have to answer to anyone.”
They might as well just cut my brand off. I snort. “A Lord is never free.” Sitting back, I look up at them. “And Frank? What about him?”
“We can’t prove—”
“I was fucking here,” I grind out. “There were at least three…four, Lords here.” I try and rack my brain to remember. There were three. Two that helped me up the stairs and another one at the top of the loft. My mind isn’t clear right now.
They remain silent.
“I’ve got text messages…”
“From an untraceable number,” the one on the right states.
“Unbelievable.” I give a rough laugh. I’ve got to give it to Frank. He fucked me over good. “And Whitney? You don’t think she’s dead?” If she’s willing to go as far as getting me to knock her up, she’s more than capable of faking her death. Especially if her father is helping her.
“If she’s not, the world won’t think any different.”
My head snaps up to look at them, and they were serious. “You really think she’s alive?” I question, and again, they say nothing.
Pacing, I stare at my bloody shoes as I walk back and forth. “I’ll do it.” What else is there for me to do? Prison for murder of a woman and an unborn child, or take what the Lords are offering me? Even if she wasn’t, her medical records will show that she is. Word is already out that I did it. Even if they remove every video or news article from the internet, the Lords still know what happened tonight. If Frank did set me up, he’ll make sure everyone knows what he wants them to think. “Under one condition.”