Page 65 of Desecrated Saints
Nana stares at her before a cheeky smile lights up her face. “I could use a girl like you around here. I never liked that institute, pretentious and full of overpaid wankers. They wouldn’t let me see my boy for six months, then he didn’t want me to come anyway.”
Her caustic glower is sent my way instead. Great.
“I didn’t want you to see me like that.” I recoil, avoiding her accusing gaze. “It took me a while to get clean, and it wasn’t pretty in the meantime.”
“I’m your grandmother, Nix. I’ve seen you at your best, and I’ve seen you at your worst. You hurt this old bird’s heart, but I’ll live. It’s your sister who deserves an apology.”
At the mention of Charlie, guilt smothers me. I’ve been gone for so long, I’d convinced myself that my family was better off without me. Charlie was a kid when I got put away. Now, she’s fourteen years old. I’ve missed so much. I’m no better than our waste-of-space mother.
“Guys,” Kade interrupts. “Something happened.”
He’s back at his laptop, looking pale. The room falls into tense silence as he turns it around for us to see. It looks like another news conference has been called. The reporters are back on the steps of luxurious downtown London, surrounded by wealth and carefully concealed lies.
“Son of a bitch,” Brooklyn curses. “That’s him.”
The cameras paint Bancroft’s well-groomed exterior in high-definition horror. He’s dressed in another fine suit and tie, his diamond-encrusted watch on full display. The conciliatory smile on his face makes me want to punch a fucking wall.
Hudson stills next to me. “Look who it is.”
Hanging behind Incendia’s perfectly groomed president is a very familiar, unwelcome face. I’ve seen pictures of Kade’s asshole father before. He’s staring straight ahead, an impenetrable mask on his middle-aged face, framed by slicked back, salt and pepper hair.
There’s a low hum of conversation from the reporters, documenting this alliance. It’s a publicity stunt and warning rolled into one. They know Leroy Knight’s sons are involved. He’s effectively disowning them and painting an even bigger target on their backs by doing this conference.
“Three days ago, law enforcement tracked our missing convicts down to a nightclub in South London,” Bancroft recites. “They claimed the lives of six brave men. Today, we praise their heroic efforts and condemn the animals that led them to their slaughter.”
“Who’s this ugly stuffed shirt?” Nana booms.
Brooklyn’s hands brace on the table. “That’s who we’re running from.”
Nana studies the broadcast with a look of murderous rage. She’s well accustomed to deciphering bullshit in her line of work. This guy’s entire persona is a golden fucking sham.
“The situation is in hand,” Bancroft continues grandly. “We’re working to bring these monsters to justice. Should anyone have a sighting of the people on your screens, we urge you not to confront them, but to call the authorities with the following number.”
Kade’s fist slams down on the table. “Paying the public to do his dirty work for him.”
“Clearly, the police are in his pocket too,” Brooklyn adds. “He owns everyone and everything.”
Our pictures flash up on the broadcast in all their harrowing detail, including Brooklyn’s infamous mugshot. But this time, a sixth photo has been added. It’s an old snap of Seven, dressed in a blue cap and gown at his university graduation. He looks younger and a hell of a lot more… stable.
“I thought they were keeping Seven quiet.” I watch the conference draw to a close. Bancroft and Kade’s father climb into an SUV and speed off without answering any of the reporter’s questions.
“They’re getting desperate,” Kade hedges, his face red. “Time’s running out. They know the minute we start talking, that’s it. Game over.”
“So why don’t we? Talk, that is.”
“Who would believe us?” Hudson rages, pacing the small kitchen. “Even with proof, we’re just a bunch of mentally ill criminals to the public. We’ll be tossed in a cell and fucking executed.”
“I could have one of my boys put a bullet in that bastard’s skull,” Nana says sweetly, crushing her finished cigar. “Just say the word, kids. Quick and easy.”
“Stay out of this, Nana. It isn’t safe.”
“I can protect myself, Nix. I’ve been in the game for a long time.”
“I haven’t spent the last two years rotting inside of Blackwood for you to throw it all away!” I shout at her, losing my temper. “Stay out of this. That’s an order.”
Her crystalline eyes harden, filling with indignation. “Do you think I will listen to you, boy?”
“You fucking will.”