Year Four (Kingmakers, #4)

by Sophie Lark

“What are you doing here, Nix?” he says, hoarsely. “What are you doing, Dad?” I reply, my voice cracking. “What is this place?” He shifts his bulk, his right eyelid twitching as it always does when he’s stressed or angry. “You know the mine,” he says, gruffly. “I told you about this.” “No,” I say, flatly. “No, you didn’t.” “Well what does it matter!” he shouts. “I was going to show you. This is all for you someday.” The thought of owning this dark underground place, those prison cells, makes my skin crawl. “I don’t want this,” I say. “What the hell are you talking about!” my father roars. His whole hand is shaking now, the barrel of the gun jittering against Kade’s ear. Kade’s skin shines like wax. “Don’t hurt him,” I say, nodding toward Kade. “Let him go. He’s my friend.” “He’s your friend?” my father howls, outraged. “Have you lost your mind? These are your worst fucking enemies, Nix! That’s Ivan Petrov! It’s his fault your mother is dead! His fault she was never avenged!” “You had your revenge,” Ivan says, his voice colder than frost and harder than steel. “We killed Taras together. Then you tracked down his wife and children and you slaughtered them, too. You killed his uncles and his cousins. There’s barely a Banderovtsy left alive.” “AND IT STILL WON’T BRING HER BACK!” my father bellows, his face redder than his beard. My stomach is churning. We killed Taras together . . . Then you slaughtered his wife . . . and his children . . . That wasn’t part of the story, when ...