The Angel And The Bastard

Sacrifice

Luke

I never wanted power, not the way people think.

I never craved control, or the kind of reverence that makes men bow their heads when they see me coming.

But power has a way of seeking you out when you've got nothing left to lose—when you've been scraped raw and forced to fight for every inch you get.

And when it does, you learn how to wield it like a blade, or else you let it devour you whole.

Turns out, I'm good with at swordplay.

"Mr. Carson, they're ready for you."

The voice comes from my assistant,a simpering woman with a short skirt,bright acrylic nails and red lipstick that makes my head hurt just by looking at her face too long.

She'll be lucky to last through week.

"Tell them I'll be there in five," I say, not bothering to look up from the financial reports spread out across my desk. She nods coyly,twisting her bleached blonde hair around her finger.

Then when she gets no response,slips out the room, leaving me alone with the numbers and the silence that's always too loud.

I lean back in my chair, stretching out the tension that's coiled tight in my shoulders.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawls beneath me, glittering and indifferent.

My city, in a way, though I'd never be foolish enough to say it out loud.

This place doesn't belong to anyone, not really.

It just chews you up and spits you out, and if you're lucky, you crawl away with enough pieces left to make something of yourself.

I built something. I built everything. And I did it for her.

Not for Iris.

Not for the girl whose laugh used to make my chest feel too tight, like I couldn't breathe.

The girl whose kisses felt tasted like summer and rebellion.

No, I buried that part of me a long time ago, along with the idea that love could be anything other than a liability.

I did it for my sister, for Emma—the only thing in this world that ever made me think I might be worth something.

After my parents died, leaving us with nothing but debt and whispers behind closed doors, she was all I had left. I was barely more than a kid myself, but I promised her that I'd take care of her, that I'd keep her safe.

It was a promise made in the dark, in a too-small room in the shittiest part of town, but it was the only thing that mattered.

I kept that promise. I worked until my hands bled, until my mind was nothing but raw nerves and the taste of desperation.

I clawed my way up from nothing, took every risk, played every angle.

I made deals that would have gotten me killed if they'd gone wrong, but they didn't.

Because when you're that desperate, when you're that hungry, failure isn't an option.

You make it work, or you die trying.

And I didn't die. I survived. And I built Carson Enterprises from the ground up.

Now, the world knows my name. The people who used to look at me like I was dirt under their feet are the same ones who scramble for a piece of my time, who smile and nod and tell me what a brilliant businessman I am.