POV's Jace
"Don't you want to say goodbye?" he rasped. My chest tightened. "She didn't say. Goodbye to us either." I released Philip, and he began crying again.
Alicent put her hand on his shoulder, but not on mine. She'd learned. Every time she'd tried to console me in the last few days, I'd shaken her off.
" It's okay to be sad."
"No, it's not," I said firmly. Didn't she understand? If Father found out that Philip was crying after our mother, especially when Beckham is around, he'd punish him. Maybe he'd burn his eye out like he'd threatened to do to me. I couldn't let that happen. I glanced at Beckham, who stood a few steps back, unwrapping his tape from his wrist.
"Our mother is a sinner. Suicide is a sin. She doesn't deserve our sadness," I repeated what the pastor had told me when I'd visited church with Father. I didn't understand it. Killing is a sin, too, but the pastor never said anything to Father about that.
Alicent shook her head and touched my shoulder with sad eyes. Why did she have to do it? "She shouldn't have left you boys alone."
"She is never really there for us before, either," I said firmly, balling my emotions inside of me. Alicent nodded. "I know, I know. Your mother…"
"…is weak," I hissed, drawing back from her touch. I didn't want to talk about her. I just wanted to forget she'd ever existed, and I wanted Philip to stop looking at the stupid knife as if it would kill him.
"Don't," Alicent whispered. "Don't become like your father, Jace."
That's what Grandma Maya had said before she died.
Grandma looked thin and small. Her skin appeared too big for her body, as if she'd borrowed it from a person twice her size.
She smiled in a way no one ever smiled at me and stretched out her hand. I took it. Her skin felt like paper, dry and cold.
"Don't leave," I demanded. Father said she would die soon. That's whyhe'd sent me into her room, to understand death, but I already did.
Grandma squeezed my hand lightly. "I'll watch over you from heaven."I shook my head. "You can't protect us when you're up there."
Her brown eyes were kind. "Soon you won't need protection anymore."
"I'll rule over everyone," I whispered. "Then I'll kill Father so he can't hurt Philip and Mother anymore."
Grandma touched my cheek. "Your father killed his father so he could become Capo."
My eyes widened. "You hate him for it?"
"No," she said. "Your Grandfather was a cruel man. I couldn't protect George from him." Her voice got raspier and very quiet, so I had to lean close to hear her. "That's why I tried to protect you from your father, but I failed again."
Her eyelids fluttered, and she released my hand, but I clung to it.
"Don't become like your grandfather and father, Jace." She closed her eyes.
"Grandma?"
I scowled, then glanced back at Beckham, who was watching with his arms crossed. Had he heard what Alicent had said? Father would be angry with her. Very angry. I turned on my heel and walked toward him, stopping right in front of him and narrowing my eyes. "You didn't hear anything."
Beckham's eyebrows rose. Did he think I was kidding? I didn't have much I could do. Father held all the power. "You won't tell anyone anything, or I'll tell my father that you talked shit about him. I'm his heir. He'll believe me."
Beckham dropped his arms. "You don't have to threaten me, Jace. I'm on your side."
With that, he turned on his heel and went into the locker room. Father always said we were surrounded by enemies. How am I supposed to know whom I could trust?
TIME SKIP \~
Jace, 11 YEARS OLD
Screams tore through my nightmare, through the images of red rivulets on white marble. I sat up, disoriented, listening to shouting and gunfire. What is happening?
Light flared up in the hallway, probably the motion sensors. I rolled over to the edge of my bed when the door opened. A tall man I'd never seen before stood in the doorway, his gun trained on my head.
I froze.
He is going to kill me. I could see it in his expression. I stared into his eyes, wanting to die with my head held high like a real man. A small shadow dashed forward behind the man and, with a battle cry, Philip jumped on his back. The gun fired, and I jerked as hot pain sliced through my middle.
The bullet went a lot lower than it was supposed to. He would have killed me if it hadn't been for Philip. Tears shot into my eyes, but I stumbled out of the bed & wrenched my gun out of the nightstand. The man lifted the barrel at Philip. I raised my gun, pointed it at his head the way Beckham and One had taught me, then pulled the trigger.
Blood splattered everywhere, even over Philip's shock-widened face. For a moment, everything seemed to stand still—even my heartbeat—and then everything sped up.
The man tumbled forward and would have taken my brother with him had he not jumped back in the last moment, still looking stunned. He blinked at me, then peered down at the body. Slowly, he dragged his gaze back up, lingering on my belly.
"You're bleeding."
I clutched the wound in my side, shaking from the force of the pain. My hand with the gun shook, but I didn't drop it. Shots and screams still rang out downstairs. I nodded toward my closet.
"Hide in there." Philip frowned.
"Do it," I said sharply.
"No."
I staggered toward him, almost passing out from the sharp pain in my body. I gripped Philip by the cuff of his pajama and pulled him toward the
closet. He struggled, but I shoved him inside and turned the lock.
Philip hammered against the door from inside. "Let me out."
Trembling with anxiety and pain, I crept downstairs, toward the living room where the sounds were coming from. When I stepped in, I saw Father crouched behind a sofa in a shooting match with two other men. Both had their backs turned to me. Father's eyes flitted to me, and for a moment, I considered not doing anything.