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My heart jerks in my chest.
I’ve never heard Leo say it for sure—that he’s definitely going.
I want him at Kingmakers with me.
It’s no normal school, or even one you’d find on a list of colleges.
Kingmakers exclusively serves the children of criminal families from around the globe.
Many glances are shared in many directions across the table. The two oldest Boone boys lean forward, excited—they love a good fight.
Uncle Seb tries to murmur something to his wife, his big hand rubbing slow circles in the center of her back. Yelena’s not having it.
“No,zhizn moya,”she hisses. “That’s enough of this foolishness.”
Aunt Yelena draws herself up to full height in her high-backed chair until she towers like a snow queen, eyes glittering like chips of violet ice.
“You are not going anywherenearyour cousin, let alone sleeping in the same school as Dean.”
Leo is an only child. I’ve seen how Yelena gets pale and quiet when the littlest ones are around, how she’s softest with the babies. My other aunts fell pregnant easily. They used to ask when she’d have another. She’d laugh and say, “When Leo’s less trouble…” But soon she stopped laughing, and people learned to stop asking.
Leo is her light and joy. Usually, she’ll give him anything.
But, apparently, not this.
Leo hesitates, sensing the static in the air.
“Mom, I’ll be fine…they haven’t had a death at Kingmakers in years. I can handle myself.”
“Oh yeah? Have you been in a lot of street fights?”
The soft sneer comes from Uncle Nero. His attack is unexpected—Uncle Nero doesn’t often involve himself in other people’s business, and he’s the last one to throw stones for risky behavior.
Feeling teeth where he most expected support, Leo hisses back, “Yeah. I’ve been in a few. You don’t need to be in a hundred, Nero, to prove that you can do it.”
Uncle Nero’s face darkens at that disrespect.
Leo’s eyes meet mine, full of hurt and frustration.
But the last cut comes, swift and cold, from my father: “How many of those fights were with a Russian with a knife?”
Leo presses his lips together, jaw tightening. No matter how frustrated he might be, he’s not going to argue with my father.
It doesn’t matter. My dad’s not even close to finished.
“Do you think Dean is sitting down at a table like this tonight?”
He gestures down the length of the room, stuffed end to end with liquor, delicious food, and friendly faces. My father sits at the head, pale and stern as a ghost.
“Look how far our family has wandered and forgotten about a blood feud. Leo, your life is in danger as you sit here. If you don’t think that the son of Adrian Yenin has planned many ways to kill you at Kingmakers, you have already underestimated him. He will try to destroy everything you love…” He casts a long and burning look at my mother, who slips her pale hand into his, completely black with tattoos. “He’s had eighteen years to plan his revenge…that’s what I would do.”
The silence that falls is complete.
I’m begging for someone to break it, so I can breathe.
I glance at Aunt Aida, certain that she, at least, won’t let me down. But even Aida is somber.
In fact, she’s gazing across the table at her youngest brother, Uncle Seb. The exchange that passes between them is puzzling—Uncle Seb mouths something that looks like,I’m sorry,and Aida whispers back,Me, too.
