Sancte Diaboli – Part Two (The Elite King’s Club #7) Read Online Amo Jones

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, New Adult, Romance, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Elite King's Club Series by Amo Jones
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
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“When I chased him out of the ceremony, he had taken Saint out. Away.”

Bishop leans in closer.

“Veronica stepped out of the passenger seat of the town car he had her in, but I’m guessing Hector was shocked to see her. I’m thinking he had another plan for her.” I kick my leg out in front of me. “Am I right?”

Hector’s face falls. Over the years, time has been good to the old king. He looks painfully similar to Bishop, only older. Side-shaved head, tattoos over his neck and some on his face, built strong and tough. When we were kids, there was nothing scarier than being stared at by Hector Hayes. The problem with fear is, if you show any weakness, it does just that. Weakens.

“I knew she was there, Brantley. What I didn’t expect to see was you. We had all planned it, that Veronica was going to take her. Why would I try to do anything else?”

My eyes narrow. I’ve been spending all of my days trying to figure out why he seemed shocked and where he could have been possibly taking Saint when all along, I could have played right into his hand.

My fists clench to my sides.

Bishop interrupts, “Why? Why were you taking her to Veronica when we had already planned her to take Saint? Did you know she was your other lover’s baby mama? Seriously, Dad—” Bishop glares at him. “I’ve had about enough finding out about all these fucking love children.” Their bickering dies out, and everything inside my head seems to tick left to right like collision balls. The corners of my vision begin to darken.

“Bishop,” I say smoothly, but the indents of crescent moons into my palms claim anything but. “He has four seconds to explain his redemption before I kill him.” I bring my eyes to his. “And you know I will.”

Three.

Two.

“I had planned it with Veronica before the ceremony. She and I had an understanding.”

“So before you told us the plan, you had already set it up? So you knew there would be Gentlemen there that night?”

“Son.” Hector looks to Bishop. “The Gentlemen aren’t our only enemies right now. And to answer your question, yes, because I knew you would go along with it to protect her.” Hector’s eyes come to mine.

My lip curls into a half-smile. His eyes travel down my chest and to the button of my jeans. I tap at the black button clipped there.

Hector stares up at me, exposing a glimpse of the man everyone fears. He nods.

Saint

Since arriving last night, I’ve thought a lot about the past few hours. Even now as I stare back at myself in the mirror, holding a compact in my hand, my mind can’t seem to wrap around the revelations Veronica spilled out. Upon her saying those words, I think I lost a bit of myself. Of who I had become.

I swipe the makeup sponge over my cheek, knowing I should be dabbing, but struggling to find even a smudge of energy to care. The smooth pasty white covers my skin perfectly, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough to hide the dark circles sunken beneath my eyes. I let out a sigh, placing the compact back onto my vanity and turning in my seat. Unable to speak, or to so much as undress out of my pajamas, I find myself looking around the bedroom I once found comfort in. Annoyingly so, I continue to find comfort in. The plants offer the oxygen that I can’t seem to breathe in. Every time I think of last night, my stomach cramps and my toes curl. The pain is too much for me to face. I feel bruised, battered, and worn down to my very bones.

There’s a knock on my door. I swallow past the heavy swell in my throat, but refuse to answer. It opens anyway.

“Hey, girl…” Ophelia whispers quietly. “Can I come in?”

I nod. I like Ophelia’s company. I always have.

The door closes behind her and she patters deeper into my room until she’s seated on my bed. “How are you holding up?”

I turn in my chair. She’s wearing yoga pants and an oversized cardigan, almost matching my style. “Not really.” My lashes fan out over my cheeks. “But I’m glad to see you again.”

She waves me off, rolling her eyes. “Pshhh. You’re stuck with me—” She leans forward. “Forever. But I just want to check on you. These halls are a little more full these days.” Her eyes glass over. “So stick near me, okay?”

I don’t bother to ask her what she means, only nod and allow her to guide me downstairs.

She wasn’t lying when she said the halls were busier. I pause at the threshold of where the kitchen meets the foyer, shuffling in my step. “Ah…”


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