Empire of Lust (Empire, #4)

by Rina Kent

“What are you doing here? I mean, no, it’s not that I don’t want you here, but the fact that you came to my apartment brings up questions. Of course, I don’t mean to question you, but…”

Gwen fingers her sweater, staring at me from under her lashes. “Are you badly hurt?”

“They’re just bruises. They’ll heal.”

Her chin trembles again and she hangs her head. “I’m so sorry.” I slowly approach her, my heart beating louder with each step. I speak low, afraid a higher range will have her bolting.

“What for?” “For what Dad did. I dislike that side of ...

“Dad hurt you because you didn’t leave like he told you to. He also did that to Nate, whe...

“Gwen, no. Kingsley didn’t do this to me. In fact, he was the one who helped me and nursed me back to health. If he hadn’t, God k...

I’m prideful, but that doesn’t mean I’d deny what he did for me. A part of me holds so much gratitude to him, I...

My daughter’s face gets frozen in an odd mixture of relief and horror, then she gasps...

“Oh my God.” She starts shaking like a leaf, the tear finally sliding down her cheek. “I called him a monster and other names and lashed out at him for hurting my mother after I finally found her.”

My heart literally skips a beat. It doesn’t matter if she’s talking about me in the third person, but she indirectly admitted that I’m her mother.

“He was so mad, like worse than when he deals with Susan mad,” she whispers mor...

“What if he never for...

She’s in pain, and while I’m immune to my own pain, hers hits differently.

Your grandfather, who will be a threat to your life if I don’t do something about

She’s the type who wears her emotions like a badge. Definitely unlike me and her father.

“I brought you something.”

Gwen digs into the pocket of her sweater and produces a small keychain in...

“It’s nothing much. I just noticed you don’t have one and stumbled upon this and thought it looked cool and woul...

She smiles, childlike, and finally wipes her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “You’re…welcome.”

“I’m all tears.” Caroline appears from behind the corner, dabbing at her eyes, probably having listened to the whole exchange, then smiles at Gwen.

“I’m Auntie Caroline and I’ve known your mother since before we b...

Gwen’s mismatched eyes glint...

“Totally.” Caroline grins. “Wanna have a cup of tea with me, eat some cake, and let me tell you stories about a you...

“Callie, stop it,” I hiss, my n...

“What? She wouldn’t mind. Ri...

Caroline tells Gwen one embarrassing story from our youth after the other, interrupted by my protests and my kicking her whenever I get the chance.

My daughter, however, doesn’t seem the least bit bored or embarrassed. She listens carefully, laughs, and even asks questions, fully invested in a part of me I have long since forgotten.

A part of me who was so naïve that I had to murder it in order to survive.

I feel so high on cloud nine that even Caroline’s hyper energy doesn’t bother me anymore.

He was so mad. Her words play in my head on a loop. I’ve seen Kingsley on the scale of anger a few times, and it was always bad. The type of bad people stay away from.

He doesn’t see the text. So I call him, my heartbeat picking up with every ring until it goes to voicemail.

I hang up and stare at the screen, then call him again. Still no answer. I’m about to go to

“Stay away from Kingsley when he’s angry. He becomes volatile, unpredictable, and has a thirst for blood. I’m surprised he hasn’t accidentally lost his life due to those factors.”

If crazy is a territory, I’ve already cut through its wires and breached it with bloodied hands.

My feet falter in front of the tree that he kissed me under that night. When he lifted his Anonymous mask, devoured my lips, then said he’d keep me, after all.

remember that he said he came here whenever he felt a need to be alone.

I’m grasping at straws here. It’s been twenty-one years, so maybe his methods of venting and places of choice have changed.

Young me’s logic was that he’d already showed his ugly side early on. And if he wanted to actually hurt me, he would’ve done it after he punched his Joker friend.

Since I first met Kingsley—officially as himself and not in an Anonymous mask—he’s been the most infuriatingly confident person I’ve ever seen. He walks, talks, and breathes with purpose. He owns whatever room he enters and it isn’t because he has money.

“Kingsley.” My voice is low but has the weight of a bomb in the silence—or semi-silence.

He shows no signs of hearing me and continues punching the tree. Something dark streams down the trunk, glistening in the night.

Please don’t tell me tha...

I’m doing this because he helped me once—or twice—and I don’t like owing people.

Or that’s what I tell myself as I carefully put a hand on his shoulder.

One moment, I’m standing by his side, the next, I’m flung around and pain explodes in my back when I’m slammed against the tree. Wit...

Eyes that have no glint in them stare down at me. They’re...

He squeezes my throat enough to make me lightheaded. The lack of oxygen robs me of breath and any thoughts. My knee-jerk reaction is to claw, kick, hit. Survive. That’s the only drug I’ve been on since I was a toddler.

I reach my hand to his face, feeling the tension in his jaw, in his demeanor, and in his deep, controlled breaths.

“It’s...