Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
And then, silence. We were caught in a stare off when more footsteps approached in the multiples. When Tor squeezed my shoulder, I blinked, then focused on the new arrivals. And seriously wished I hadn’t.
My breath caught and hairs on my arms stood. Because the five men who settled in haphazardly, taking up space at the head of the table?
They were terrifying.
The Disciples, as they called themselves, were seated now. Each set of eyes I met, met my own right back.
Just as Ettore had feared… they noticed me.
All of them tall and muscular yet so different in appearance and manner.
A man with long white hair braided down his back, high cheekbones and cold, clear blue eyes stared unblinking at me. His beard was also braided in one straight line, meeting his chest. He wore a strange, leather patchwork vest. One might have said he looked creepy, but I saw him as ethereal. He looked like he belonged in the mountains, in the snow, and I couldn’t explain why other than he was arctic himself.
Two of the men sat side-by-side and it took me a moment to realize they wore the same face on different bodies. They were identical although each of the twins had nose rings telling them apart. One of them had a stud in each nostril with a small chain joining them, while the other had a septum piercing. Two-studs appeared curious of me. Septum Dan, however, looked at me as like I was a barking dog in the middle of the night and he would have liked nothing more than to keep me quiet, with a bullet if necessary.
After a moment of quiet, the scariest looking man, with longish brown hair falling over his eyes and a wide, jagged smile etched onto his face with ink, leant forward and spoke quietly into the ear of the dark-haired, obsidian eyed man who sat centered and I knew immediately that the man he whispered to was Roam.
I couldn’t hear what he said but he made it fairly obvious the statement was about me, seeing as he kept his eyeliner smudged eyes on me, unblinking. He was lean but cut, his tattooed muscular body was on full display as all he wore was tailored slacks, a pair of black suspenders sans shirt, an odd looking black beaded rosary hanging in the center of his broad chest that held a silver pentagram as well as an upside cross, and black heavy silver-buckled boots.
On anyone else, it would have looked ridiculous. On this man though?
I could have easily mistaken him for an alt model.
Each of these men screamed danger, but a single lazy glance from the ominous man sitting front and center, surrounded by misfits, had my heart jumping into my throat and blood rushing in my ears. A small silver hoop glittered in his ear. He blinked at me a second, his heavy brows marred and then he ran a hand down his neatly trimmed beard, slow and calculated. When he spoke, his voice was deep and he uttered an offhanded, “Ettore, please explain to me why we have another Vero at the table when I barely tolerate the one.” He did not hide his disdain for my sister when his hooded gaze swept over her.
Her own responded in kind.
Meanwhile, I sat frozen to the spot, my heart thumping in my chest so hard I was sure they could all see it.
Tor had told me a little about the man. He even said he considered Roam a friend, or as much of a friend as a man like Roam could abide. The Disciples were relatively new blood. All of them had been a part of the notorious firm, The Forty Nine, ruled by a man named Artem Kozak. He gave the boys free reign over the city and they very nearly destroyed it.
Artem gained the upper hand by having his boys recruit without standards and he gained notoriety by creating an army of thieves. Nobody wanted a war with Artem because nobody had the manpower to fight back. So, when Artem began to buy up territory all over New York, all the others could do was sit back and watch his empire grow.
He was an exceptional businessman and his sudden death rocked the underworld. Tor told me a story he’d heard about the boys revering their mentor so much that on the first anniversary of his death, they dug him up and brought him home. Of course, that was so farfetched and bizarre that I simply refused to believe anyone would do such a thing. Just thinking about it gave me the creeps.
Now, Artem’s boys rebranded as The Disciples. They had taken the place he left for them and although it would seem that Roam was head of the table, my eyes were drawn to the chair beside him.