Throne of Vengeance (Throne Duet #2) by Rina Kent

“Are you okay?” Sergei asks me.

“I’m…not.” My voice catches at the end, but I swallow and meet his gaze. “We have to do something.”

“I won’t give up Bratva’s territories, not even for my own daughter. After all, dozens of men died to secure them. The leaders would choose to kill Kyle themselves instead of making the brotherhood appear weak.”

I know that. I know it, and yet, my brain is fried. All I keep thinking about is the image of Kyle’s head.

Shit.

My stomach lurches again and the need to vomit hits me out of nowhere. I breathe deeply to shoo the sensation away.

I can’t fall down now. If I do, I won’t be able to protect Kyle and our unborn child.

Sucking in a deep breath, I face Sergei. “Can you call a meeting? I have a plan.”





30





Kyle





“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

Mam? Where are you?

The place is pitch-black like a cave. It smells rotten too, as if a dead animal is decomposing inside it. My legs get lost in something sticky underneath, but I can’t see it.

I can’t see anything except for darkness.

The sound of weeping gets louder the more I walk. It’s my mother. I’d recognize the sound anywhere, even though it’s been thirty years.

“Mam? Where are ye?” I don’t know why I’m speaking in a Northern Irish accent, but all of a sudden, it feels as if I’m back to being that small boy. The only difference is that I’m trapped in a grown-up’s body. “Mam!”

The only answer is the sound of weeping. It’s long and wretched as if her grief is clawing out from the grave.

“Mam, come out. I can protect ye now. No one will hurt ye.”

The weeping ceases and a rustle comes from right in front of me. I halt, the sound of the sticky mud under my feet stopping too.

The darkness slowly dissipates like fog in the early morning. A slender woman stands in front of me, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her face is soft, petite, and her nose is straight, like she’s from aristocratic origins.

Her hair has a reddish hue and freckles are like specks of dust on her cheeks and nose. My mother used to tell me it’s unfair that I look nothing like her and resemble my father instead.

She’s wearing the trousers and the jacket from the day when she held me in her arms and attempted to run. Her blue eyes that match mine aren’t sad like back then, though. There are laugh lines around them, even as tears continue streaming down her cheeks.

So this is how she looked. I had started to forget her face, and it has turned into a white halo over the years.

“Ye finally found me, baby boy.”

“Ma…” I start toward her, wanting to hug her or even watch her closer.

“Don’t.” She holds up a hand, stopping me in my tracks. “If you come closer, I’ll disappear.”

“Why would you disappear?”

“You found me but ye didn’t find yer father yet, right?”

“Dad is the reason ye’re gone, Ma. He’s the reason I had to become like this. Have ye forgotten?”

“No, but ye have to find yer father, and if ye can, forgive him.”

“I’m not exactly a ghost hunter.”

“He’s not a wee ghost. He’s by yer side, too. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry yer mammy was a such a disgrace.”

“What are ye talking about? It wasn’t yer fault.”

“It was, and ye and Niall paid for it. Now, ye’re paying again, and so is yer wife.”

“What does Rai have to do with this…?” I trail off when my wife appears beside Mum and places her hand in hers. She’s wearing a white nightgown, but bruises cover her porcelain skin, as I left her this morning. Her hair falls to her shoulders in disarray, and mascara streaks down her pale cheeks.

I swallow, forcing myself to look at her. “Rai? What are you doing here?”

She says nothing, her lips thinned in a line, and I hate that I can’t listen to her voice even now. What was I thinking? I already left and there’s no going back.

But can I have a last touch? Just once more.

I step toward them, wanting to take them both somewhere no one can find them. A large figure appears behind them, and the unmistakable click of a gun ripples in the air.

My legs stick to what’s underneath them as Rolan’s shadowed face comes into view.

I reach into my waistband for my gun, but my hands find nothing. Fuck. I bend over to search at my ankle, but the knife isn’t there either.

Fuck. Fuck!

A smirk lifts Rolan’s lips as he places the gun to Mum’s head then slides it to Rai’s. “Choose one, my lad.”

“Take me! I’m the one you want, right?”

“Not really.”

A shot rings in the air and a patch of blood covers my mother’s chest in the same place as it had thirty years ago.

I run toward them, but it’s too late.

Rai clutches her middle and falls to her knees, blood gurgling from her lips. A tear slides down and clings to her upper lip as scarlet red explodes from her stomach.

“No,” I whisper, then roar, “Noooo!”

I startle awake, my clothes sticking to my body with sweat and my pulse close to beating out of my throat.