Her Name Is Knight(Nena Knight #1)(73)

I swear to protect the people of my new family.

Who have opened their arms to me, have invested in me.

Offered me a seat at their table.

And have given me their name.





53


AFTER


Hours after arriving at Mercy Hospital, Nena was in the middle of getting tea for her mum when an incoming call made her step away from the vending machine—Mum would have hated vending machine tea anyway—to answer it.

“Aninyeh,” Paul began when the call connected. “I hope you are well. I know you’ve been busy.”

“How do you have this number?” She wouldn’t exchange pleasantries with her mortal enemy.

“I have my ways,” he said coyly. “You would do well to remember that.”

“And that means what?” she snapped.

“How’s Noble?” he asked. “He was just with me earlier. Seemed very healthy. It’s a shame, really, what’s happened to him.”

Perhaps if she played it cool, didn’t give anything away, then he wouldn’t get whatever he was fishing for. “All is well.”

“Cut the bullshit, Aninyeh; I’ve been in contact with Delphine. I know your father’s fallen ill quite unexpectedly.”

Nena’s stomach clenched. Let him talk, she told herself.

“Your mum is rather unnerved, I’m sure. I offered to assist in any way I can. I’ll step in if I have to, even though I’m the new kid on the block, so to speak.” He chuckled. “Of course, Delphine wants to keep it quiet from the Council. Doesn’t want them thinking your father weak enough to let his guard down and be usurped. I agree with her decision. For now.”

His banter dropped, leaving his voice cold and unforgiving. “I told you to leave this alone, girl. I told you to let bygones be bygones after Attah.”

She forced herself to be quiet. Let him talk so you don’t say something to make things worse. But she’d already made matters worse, hadn’t she? And her father was the victim.

“But you don’t listen. I told you not to fuck up my opportunity with the Council.”

“I haven’t told anyone anything, Paul.”

“I am Lucien Douglas now.”

“Funny, you sound and act very much like Paul Frempong.”

“Careful, girl.”

“They don’t know anything about you.”

“Yet Kwabena is dead.”

She closed her eyes. She’d expected him to find out. She hadn’t expected him to go for her dad. Not when Paul was so new to the Council. It was a big play.

“Who’s next, Aninyeh, hmm? My child, Oliver? Me? Am I next on your revenge list? Because I know you cannot kill a Council member. You would risk harm to your family?”

She hated it when he used her name from before. He had no right. He’d ripped it from her as he had stripped away her humanity. Hearing him speak it made her knees weaken every time and notched another chink in her resolve. Maybe she should just give up and let him have whatever he wanted again. Maybe then he’d leave Dad and everyone she loved alone.

“Would you?” she countered, hoping her voice sounded strong and assured, a stark contrast to the unadulterated fear and doubt raging. “Because all I have to do is tell the Council and my parents who you really are, and the dispatch would be sanctioned before I finish speaking.”

He snorted. “You could,” he said. “But then your mother and your sister would suffer a similar fate as your dad. However, they might not be so lucky,” he told her. “Your father may well be on his way if you try me any further. This little illness of his is but a warning.”

“You hurt them, and I’ll kill Oliver.”

He laughed at her, a crass sound that chopped her down to nothing. That damn laughter. She hated how it sliced her with fear whenever she heard it. “You don’t kill innocents, love. That’s my job.”

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat.

She remained silent, a stinging behind her eyes. This couldn’t be happening again. She would die if she had to suffer another loss of that magnitude again. She would not survive it; of this she was sure.

“Or better yet, perhaps I rid myself of only your father, take Delphine as my wife. She’s still beautiful, you know. Aged like fine wine. And I assume complete control of not only the Council but your family as well.” He laughed as if he’d made an uproariously funny joke. “I’d be your father, Nena. What do you think of that? Irony at its fucking finest.”

Over her dead body would Paul ever be her father. Or assume High Council.

“You’ve played with me too much, girl, and it’s time I remind you of who you are dealing with. There will be no more of your temper tantrums.”

As if with the snap of fingers, Nena was fourteen again, taken back to her burning village: to the moment Papa lost his head, to the sweltering Hot Box, to the murderous Robach.

She swallowed hard. Willing herself to remain calm, to not let him know how deeply he’d wounded her. Tiny hairline cracks snaked through her usually placid demeanor. Paul was the only person who could make her feel all the fear and insecurity she’d felt as a young girl. He was the only person she truly feared because she knew the depths he would go to take from her again.