“How much of a head start does he have?”

“It took me five minutes to convince this numbskull I wasn’t delirious and to call you.”

Five minutes, and the hospital was an additional five minutes closer to headquarters, meaning my father had a ten-minute head start.

“I’m on my way.”

LUCAS 16

LUCAS

16

I GRABBED KEYS and the location of a car from a shocked tech, and took off. As I drove along the quiet streets, Paige held on for dear life with one hand and called Griffin with the other.

Griffin was holding Carlos in the boardroom. My father had yet to arrive. Ideally, I would have had Griffin quietly relocate Carlos until we got there, but there was no way to do that without the other guards knowing, and no matter what I said, the first guard my father asked would tell him where to find his son.

I LEFT THE car at the front door and ran in, Paige jogging behind me.

“Is my father here?” I asked the desk guard.

“Y—yes, sir. Upstairs. With your—”

“How long ago?”

“Umm, two, three minutes?”

I threw the car keys on the counter as I passed. “It’s outside. Have someone park it.”

The private elevator would still be on the executive level, so we took the staff one as far as we could, then the stairs the rest of the way. Paige waved me on ahead—she’d catch up.

As I raced through the door, voices drifted from the other side of the floor.

“If you’ll just wait, sir.”

“Get out of my way, Griffin,” my father replied.

“I need to update you—”

“Move, Griffin. Now!”

I knew Griffin would step aside. No one disobeyed a direct order from my father.

I broke into a run.

“Dad,” Carlos said. “I heard—”

“You spoiled little brat.”

A crash and a yelp from Carlos. I rounded the final corner to see the guards at the end of the long hall, clustered around Griffin.

“Griffin, stop him,” I called.

“I can’t—”

“Who did my father leave in charge?”

“Lucas, I can’t—”

“I am in charge, and I gave you an order.”

A moment of shocked silence then, as I drew close, Griffin nodded and went into the room.

“Mr. Cortez, you don’t want to do this,” he said.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I muttered.

I yanked the guard blocking the door out of the way. Carlos lay on the floor, blood dripping from his nose, eyes glued to our father as he advanced on him.

“What happened, Carlos?” my father said, voice low. “Was it because I wouldn’t advance you money to buy a new sports car? Or because I stopped buying off the whores you beat up? Or because you got sick of having to work for a living? No, not work. Just show up. Because that’s all I asked of you.”

“Papá—” I said.