Page 14 of Beastly Armory
My right-hand man sighs and slumps into the club chair across from the dark wood desk. “No one is certain. There’re only legends. Maybe your ancestor killed a Donovan or a Donovan a Von Dovish. Who knows? There’s just been skirmish battles ever since.”
“Tell me about that day.”
“Why do you want to go over that again, Max?”
“I just need to.” It’s like an accident I can’t look away from, the story I’ve been over time and time again. Each recitation makes me ache for my childhood memories safe behind some manor’s comforting walls, playing with my friends, yearning to make that a reality for my people’s children.
Markus knots his fingers together and looks at his lap. “Vladimir Strauss killed his father on his eighteenth birthday. We always said it was a blessing, not sure which Strauss was most vile. For Vlad’s birthday party, he sent his men to slaughter your family. Your cousins, your mother’s and father’s siblings.” He shakes his head, remembering, his eyes growing distant. “We put you all in someone’s old station wagon. Hid you and Ari under some blankets in the back. I told your father and mother goodbye and stayed. They raided the house after you left, but I got away.” Tears form on his bottom lids until they fall over onto his cheeks. He takes off his glasses and cleans them with his soft, white cloth. “Maybe Ishouldn’t have.”
That night, my mama awakened me in a state of rare panic. She was trying to hide it with calm instructions, but told me to leave everything I had. All I wanted was my little Barracuda matchbox car. That’s it. But I had to leave it all behind. It wasn’t here when I checked the toy box in my room the day after we arrived.
“And you’resureit was Strauss’s men.”
He sniffs. “The men had nothing visible. Everyone wore black, covered their faces and skin. I didn’t see tattoos. I still feel like itcouldhave been Donovan’s men. They always wanted inside the armories. Plus, like the wolves they are, they always travel in packs.”
“Yeah, but the day Vlad took over was the day all our businesses were razed, right? That was the day the armories were commandeered by Strauss.”
Markus nods slowly. He seems unconvinced.
“Strauss is powerful; I know that, Markus. But I have to get our businesses and armories back, sire a son, and then kill him.” It will be the last thing I do. I just need to stay alive long enough to see my plan succeed or have a son who would do it for me.
Markus darts his eyes to mine, pleadingly. “Maybe it isn’t too late to leave again. It’ll keep you and Ari safe, Max.”
One doesn’t justleaveGnarled Pine Hollow. There’s too much violent history in our DNA to allow anyone solace, to leave without retribution. My parents were found eight years after they left. Someone burned them alive.
My entire world changed that night when Markuswalked into my buddy’s place where we were just hanging out, doing everyday stupid stuff, probably. I knew it wasn’t good if he’d traveled so far to find me at a friend’s house. Barely a word was said as he drove me up to the site of horror. When I saw their blackened bodies being zipped up in bags and carried away, I knew right then my life was about to change dramatically. That was the moment I set my goal: Return to Gnarled Pine Hollow and take back the senate seat for the East, rebuild, and become the leader of the powerhouse our family once was.
For years, I considered that Donovan’s people did it. An emblem of a white wolf was emblazoned on the hood of the scorched car. Before I arrived, their charred bodies had been trapped inside and were only identifiable by dental records. Ace was already head of his family then, at the young age of twenty, but he was too busy gambling and whoring to be distracted by the Freidenbergs. If he killed my parents in retaliation for his sister’s murder, he had the wrong family.
Calum and Livia’s parents were sneaky fucks. Rumor is, Franklin Von Dovish had their mother poisoned and ran away with his mistress, leaving Calum in charge of the clan for the last several years. But outright murder? That wasn’t their style. Not even if they were trying to frame someone else. Plus, they had no motive. My parents had taken us away years before; we were no threat to them.
That only leaves Strauss… Probably out to prove that no one can escape him and get away with it, especially after my Papa’s secret meetings with the other clans. You can’t leave and you cannot disobey.
The butler interrupts my thoughts and alerts us that the new security guard has arrived. Jakob and Markus have been hard at work, setting up a full team. Stretching to a stand, I get up with Markus to greet him in the kitchen.
“Max, this is Derichs.” Markus points to a tall guy probably a few years younger than me. He’s built like one of the men I’d fight with in the cage, covered from head to toe in tattoos, including a black bear underneath his right eye, the Freidenberg house sigil. His caramel brown curls fall over his forehead, giving him a boyish look, but the deep set of his eyes tells me he’s dependable. “Adal Derichs, this is Maximillian Freidenberg, your new master. Max, Derichs is Jakob’s right-hand, and since you won’t allow Jakob to leave Arianna’s side, Derichs will go with you.”
Extending a hand across the newly remodeled marble island, I greet him with a firm handshake. He grips mine just as strongly. “Sir, it’s an honor to meet you.”
“You can call me Max, not sir.”
He smirks and nods. “I won’t get in your way.”
So, he understands my concern.
“I have to tell you, I’ve watched every fight you were in,” he says as he glances at Markus, who is now raiding my fridge for lunch. “The ones that were televised here, anyway. Picked up some good tactics for myself.”
“You fought?”
“Not as good as you, but yeah. MMA and some boxing, too.”
Sleeves of faded tattoos tell me he’s spent time as well. “You got put away?”
“Uh, I got caught by Strauss’s men for about six months when I was nineteen.” His lips curl into a nefarious smile. “You actually start to like the waterboarding when they don’t give you anything to drink otherwise.” Catching a hint of his old-world German accent, my shoulders relax. He’s my kind. Maybe a distant relative I had lost.
“Your father?—”
“And mine were second cousins, yes.”