Page 92 of Claimed By the Ruthless King

“Relax, boys,” says David. “Ophelia is nobody important. The real fun will be arriving soon.”

I shuffle my weight onto the other foot, the unloved part of me taking David’s words to heart.

We’re all the same here. Even David. We all know how it feels to be lonely, to be betrayed by your own family, lied to.

If it wasn’t for my mother, I probably would have taken a similar route. We all need someone to look up to. Someone who has our back no matter what.

“I know quite a lot of you would like to see Salvatore Moretti dead, but I need you to hold fire. He has an important decision to make—” A phone rings, interrupting David. He slips it from his pocket, a horrible smile crawling across his face when he checks the screen. “Speak of the devil,” he says, taking the call. “I was wondering when you would be ringing to enquire about your missing girlfriend.”

I hold my breath, trying hard to hear Salvatore on the other side of the phone.

“She’s right here, keeping me company. Don’t believe me? Very well.” David shoves the phone into my ear. “Any last words to Salvatore, sweetheart, before I set my Crows on you?”

“You lied to me.”

“Fuck, Phee,” is all he has to say. “I’m on my way to get you.”

“Here, I’ll send you the address,” says David, taking back the phone. “Drive safe.” He ends the call, returning the phone to his pocket after sending the address over.

Knots form in my stomach as I see thirty-something teenage boys lined up in front of me, each armed with a knife and gun.

“You don’t have to listen to him,” I spit out.

If I cared about my life, I would shut my mouth and comply. But what the fuck is the point? My mother is dead. My life has been built on lies. I’m only important when it’s convenient, and I have nothing else to lose.

Some of the boys smirk at one another, mocking me. They stand in their lines like soldiers, knife in their left hand, gun in their right, wearing black cargo pants and heavy boots.

Their stomachs are lean, their cheeks even more hollow than their eyes.

They’re only here because they think there is no better alternative.

“Innocent people have died, and you are responsible.”

“Nobody is innocent,” says one of the boys, reciting a line David must have ingrained into them.

“Death is already coming for us all. Why speed up the process?” I continue. “Families are grieving their loved ones.”

“Good,” says another. “More people need to learn what it feels like to have nothing.”

“Well said,” says David, praising his boy with a thumbs up. “Let’s get this party started, boys. I need zip ties and some duct tape to cover this one’s mouth before she makes all our ears bleed with her nonsense.”

My center of gravity changes as I sink closer to the earth, losing all hope.

You can’t save people who don’t want to be saved. If these teenage boys are stuck in their ways, I have no chance of influencing a forty-nine-year-old man.

26

SALVATORE

“David Hale is the fucking Reaper,” I report to Robert over the phone. “I want you outside of my apartment block in five minutes with a team of assassins. Make sure the men are well fed and watered, ready to face a shit ton of Crows.”

“Five minutes doesn’t give me much time to⁠—”

“Complain when David is dead. We don’t have time to spare for your moaning.” I hang up the phone, sharpening a knife in the kitchen and slotting it under my belt.

When Robert notifies arrives outside, I lock up and jump straight into my fastest car, driving out of the parking garage.

I connect Robert to the hands-free. “Stay close behind me.”