Page 23 of Villain

“Thanks, Nixie.” West leaned down and patted him derisively on the cheek, laughing when Nix slapped him away.

“Guess we’ll be seeing you in the King chat,” Yejun said, moving to leave with West when the other man walked around the couch and headed toward a set of winding stairs on the other side of the room.

Nix stared after them, an odd feeling of rejection and degradation flashing through him, causing more tears to prickle at the corner of his eyes.

“Clean yourself off and get out of here,” Lake said, reminding Nix that he was still there.

When he turned to look at him, however, he’d already been dismissed.

Lake followed after his friends without so much as a second glance back.

Chapter 7:

Demitrious Corleone was a world-class dick. On the outside, he may appear to be the polished, well-mannered Royal and CEO of Core Technologies, altruistic and good-tempered.

What a fucking farce.

West downed his third drink in the past twenty minutes, knowing it wouldn’t matter. His father wouldn’t notice.

Not with Imperial Lake Zyair in the room.

At the end of the day, that was the worst part. The most unforgiving in West’s eyes. It wasn’t that Demitrious had driven a wedge between father and son, it was that, from the start, he’d attempted to do the same between West and Lake. As much as he wished he could claim it hadn’t worked, West had to admit there was a string of resentment there that hadn’t been present in their friendship before.

But he refused to act on it. Refused to allow his father to take anything else from him, especially not something as important as his friends.

Which was why he bit his tongue all through dinner, acting like he wasn’t affected by the way his father praised Lake and all but ignored him.

They were at The Spark, Lake’s favorite restaurant in the city, for their monthly family meal. Yejun had been invited, though he wasn’t always—probably because this was the first dinner since Lake had returned from Vitality. They’d made it through fairly well, all things considered, and things were starting to wind down, so they could get the hell out of there soon enough.

The entire private room had been booked despite the fact that there were only four of them, and the relatively empty long table stood out. It was a waste all around—a needless display of wealth and privilege.

West wasn’t against using his family name to get ahead, and Light knew he maxed out his credit cards almost as frequently as Yejun, but that didn’t mean he was the type to flaunt his coin. Aside from his bike, most of his physical possessions of any real worth could fit into a backpack.

His father was the opposite. If there was a version of something dipped in gold and studded in rare gems, he wanted it. Didn’t matter if it made no logical sense or was gaudy as fuck. The flashier the better in Demitrious’s mind. It was the one and only reason he opened up the family home three times a year and hosted the Club. So that everyone could wander through the decadent halls of Corleone Manor and see for themselves just how truly above them the master of the house was.

“How are things coming with the task?” Demitrious asked then, his tone casual. It was a false projection, an act he put on perfectly, right down to the relaxed way he plucked his wine glass off the table and lightly sipped at the dark emerald contents. “With you back home, Lake, I’m confident you’ll be able to solve this problem of ours before it's too late.”

West ground his teeth and glanced away, one of his hands forming a tight fist in his lap beneath the table. It was too hard to tell if his father was doing it purposefully. Was it meant as an underhanded dig? A way of saying, “Son, you’re not good enough, and we both know it,” or was West merely too sensitive to it all now? Reading between lines that weren’t there?

At his side, Yejun bumped his elbow against his arm and gave him a comforting look, silently telling him not to listen to the bullshit.

If Yejun had taken it as an insult against West, that had to mean it really was one, right?

Good Light.

This was exhausting. Always second-guessing himself. Always wondering how he could do better, please the older man at the head of the table more…

And for what?

West didn’t even like the guy.

He was a shit father and an even shittier person, no matter what the rest of the world believed.

Demitrious was an esteemed member of the Order and had given them a task almost as soon as Lake had returned to planet. As seniors at Foxglove, that was to be expected. It was tradition that Legacy members undergo one final test of sorts, a proving of their worth in their final year. Sometimes, they were given the entirety of it to complete their assigned task. Other times, there was a different time limit, usually revolving around one of the school's acknowledged holidays.

For them, they’d been told to find the hacker threat by Demons Passing.

Which was in two fucking months.