Chapter 33 · Bloodline Lies

"Sit down and shut up, Kane. You're not in a dive bar anymore."

Evelyn didn't look at me. She was staring at the heavy oak doors of her father's study, her fingers digging into the velvet upholstery of the armchair. Her voice was a jagged blade, stripped of the warmth she'd shown me when we were hiding in the rain two nights ago.

I didn't sit. I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. The room smelled like old money and arrogance—expensive cigars and leather that cost more than my first three soul-hunting rigs combined.

"I'm not great at the shutting up part," I said, my voice grating. "Especially when your old man is treating you like a piece of livestock in a catalog."

Evelyn snapped her head toward me. Her eyes were wide, a storm of gold and amber. "He's protecting me. This is the only way the Syndicate lets me keep my seat at the table."

"Protecting you?" I let out a short, harsh laugh. "Evelyn, look at this place. You're not a daughter here. You're a chip. A high-value asset being held in a vault until someone bids enough to take you off his hands.