Betrayed by Truths: Truth or Lies Book 2

by Ella Miles

  I know he’s kicking my stomach because my body jars, but I don’t feel it. I’ve shut out the world—the darkness. Even though I’m not dead, I feel dead. I’m gone.

  More kicks, punches, and whips. I feel blood oozing, my body moving, but I don’t fight back. I have nothing left.

  “You’re a fucking piece of worthless shit. I didn’t raise a coward, a fucking pussy. Get up! Fight back!”

  I can’t.

  You try to fight when you’ve been starved for weeks.

  And then I see it—my salvation.

  I see the glimmer from his knife sticking from beneath his pant leg. But he’s stopped kicking me, instead preferring punches.

  So I turn to him and spit my frustration.

  His face turns to steely rage. And I brace as his foot makes contact. I ignore the force and grab his leg holding on for long enough to grab the knife, and then I stab hard into his foot.

  I know the jab isn’t deep, given the tough leather of his boot, but it’s enough to make contact. Enough to end this.

  My father doesn’t make a sound at the pain he’s in. His impervious armor is up all around him as always.

  But he stops the torture.

  “Pick yourself up,” he says.

  I summon everything inside me to get myself to stand.

  He smirks in approval.

  “Maybe you’ll earn the right to call yourself Black after all.” And then he’s gone.

  I smirk. I won. My first win against this monster. It feels good. And if I can win once, I can win again and again. Until I’m free.

  1

  Kai

  What the hell did I just agree to?

  I stare across at Enzo, who is more my enemy than I ever realized. How could I not know that I had a claim to an empire?

  This house, the money Enzo’s acquired, the resources, the men—they could have all been mine as easily as they are his.

  I didn’t have to grow up thinking I had no choices, no chances at ever becoming something more. I could have had everything—all the money I could ever spend. I still can.

  But only if I beat Enzo—at a game I don’t even understand.

  A game where only the strongest win. I don’t even know if I will survive the tests, I’m so weak.

  But I want to play. It may be my only chance to truly be free.

  Archard, Enzo’s lawyer, reenters as if he has been listening to our entire conversation and knows now is the time to arrange things.

  Westcott appears too, carrying a chair for Archard, because apparently, this conversation is going to last longer than the previous time he was here and stood watching us.

  Archard sits in the chair Westcott provides. Westcott looks to Enzo who simply nods, and Westcott leaves us.

  “So it appears the two of you have agreed to the terms of the contract,” Archard says.

  Enzo doesn’t respond; he just glares into my soul waiting for me to back out or change my mind. So I answer, “Yes, although I’d like to know a little more about the contract.”

  “Of course, Miss Miller. We have lots to discuss.”

  Archard retrieves the large pile of papers from the center of the table. And then pulls two more stacks from his briefcase. “These are copies of the contract between your two families for you to keep,” he says, passing a stack to each me and Enzo.

  Enzo nods but barely glances at the papers. It’s clear he’s seen them before, while I grasp onto them like they are my lifeline to a past and future I don’t understand.

  “This contract was written to ensure Surrender, and all of its entities, go to the proper heir. The true heir. The one capable of running the organization properly,” Archard says.

  “Surrender? You mean the club? The winner only gets the club?” I ask.

  “No, Surrender is one of many clubs and entities the winner, or heir apparent, will control. I’m sure Mr. Rinaldi will give you a tour of everything you could inherit. Surrender is also the name of the umbrella company that encompasses everything,” Archard pauses.

  Enzo, or Mr. Rinaldi as Archard called him, tightens his lip and gives the slightest of nods.

  “But according to the records here,” Archard flips a page before continuing to read. “The winner will receive ownership of sixty-five bars and clubs, ten superyachts, and seven estates. The winner will also be given control of the entire organization including the over a thousand employees that work for Surrender and encompassing companies that include bars, clubs, yachts, and security.”

  My eyes widen with every word.

  “The winner will be given the power to a ten billion dollar organization that runs Miami and most of the sea between here and the Bahamas,” Enzo says with a threatening tone in his deep baritone voice. He steeples his hand on the table as if this is an ordinary day, a regular meeting—not one deciding our destiny, the fates of over a thousand employees, and the status of the underground of Miami.

  But it’s clear from Enzo’s expression he doesn’t think I can do this. Even if I were to win, I couldn’t run the empire properly.

  “So if I win, I get everything?” I ask.

  Archard nods. “Yes, you would have the keys to the world. You would never want again. You would have more money than you could ever spend—more power than most kings. But you also need to understand how serious the power you would gain controls. You would take the lives of thousands of people into your hands. You would be responsible for ensuring Surrender, the name of the organization, not just the club, continues to grow and thrive. You would be responsible for ensuring the company continued to be profitable. And the clients that hire Surrender for protection are ruthless. If you fucked up, they would come for your head. Becoming Mr. or Miss Black is a dangerous job. One you shouldn’t take lightly.”

  I let it sink in. All that I stand to gain if I win. I would obtain money, power, control. But I would also inherit danger, darkness, cruelty. I would acquire everything I hate.

  Maybe I could change it?

  Somehow I don’t think you can change a criminal organization overnight.

  “And what does the loser get?” I ask, because I have to know. I’m much more likely to lose. I wasn’t prepared for a life of power.

  “Nothing,” Archard says with thinned lips.

  Nothing.

  I won’t be any better off than I am now. I have nothing to gain by playing, except maybe my freedom from this house.

  “Shall I continue?” Archard asks again looking to Enzo for permission.

  My rage rises, although it shouldn’t. Archard is Enzo’s lawyer. He works for him, of course he would ask him the questions. But I want to be looked at like I have a chance to win this too.

  “If Miss Miller is ready to continue,” Enzo bounces the attention back to me.

  I try my best to smile to rid myself of the negative feelings. “Yes, let’s continue.”

  Archard flips the page, and I do the same with the papers in front of me.

  “Let’s discuss the rules.”

  Rules.

  I glance to Enzo expecting him to be studying the paper in front of him, but instead, he’s studying me.

  I shift nervously in my seat, wishing on some level I could be having this meeting alone with Archard, instead of getting unnerved by Enzo’s constant gaze. But on the other hand, I welcome the heat pouring off Enzo. It both calms and excites me.

  “The first term is that only one person from the new generation can compete. The oldest direct heir gets the right to decide if they compete or if someone else from the same generation is better suited for the task and job at hand. Now is the only time to swap out for someone different. If there is a different sibling, cousin, etc. from this generation you would rather have compete from your family for the name of Black and all that comes with it, let it be known now,” Archard says.

  “I don’t have any siblings or cousins. It’s just me,” I say.

  Archard turns to Enzo, although I would guess he already knows his ans
wer. This is just a formality.

  Does Enzo have any siblings or cousins he fought first to earn this right?

  “I will be the one competing,” Enzo says blankly.

  “Good, now let’s discuss how a winner will be determined,” Archard says.

  I stare down at the next page where Archard begins reading.

  “There will be five rounds to determine who can claim the name Black. The first person to win three rounds will become the winner.”

  Five rounds. That doesn’t seem so bad.

  “The first and third round rules were determined by Miss Miller’s father.”

  I raise my eyebrows. Dad? He determined two of the games?

  My heart aches. Why didn’t you tell me about this Dad? You could have prepared me to fight. To win. Instead, you left me in the dark. Did you even choose a game I could win or did you expect me to lose as quickly as possible?

  “The second and fourth games were determined by Mr. Rinaldi’s father.”

  I gulp as I look across to the darkest man I know. If his father won the games before, then I expect him to be even crueler than the man in front of me. Which means whatever games he chose, I’m fucked.

  “And the final game, if needed, was determined by both fathers.”

  They had to agree? What game would they agree to? I doubt our families would agree on anything if they’ve been doing battle for generations—where the winner gets to live like a king, and the loser barely survives in a trailer park. No wonder we struggled so much.

  What else did you hide from me dear old Dad?

  I need to find my father. He has some serious explaining to do.

  “The winner of each round should be easy to determine. There is no subjection to the games. There is a clear winner or loser as determined by the rules of each game. But if a winner needs to be decided, or a rule determined to be won or broken, I’m the one to make such decision.”

  “You? Wouldn’t that give Enzo an unfair advantage since you work for him?” I ask.

  “No, Miss Miller, my loyalty lies with the Surrender organization and the man or woman who claims the title of Black. As Mr. Rinaldi no longer holds that title, I have no loyalty to him,” Archard says.

  I frown. I don’t like this one bit. It feels rigged.

  Enzo smirks as my reaction. “Don’t worry, Miss Miller.”

  I hate when he calls me by my last name.

  “You’ll soon learn this game is the epitome of fair,” Enzo continues.

  I snark. He means these games will be anything but fair. But that’s the point. Surrender isn’t run fairly. This life, this world isn’t. I of all people understand that.

  Archard ignores our exchange. “The games begin upon the demise of the previous Mr. Black. As he died three years ago, that means the games should start immediately.”

  I suspected Enzo’s father was dead, but this confirms it.

  Enzo doesn’t react to Archard’s words. He doesn’t get emotional at the thought of his father being dead. I don’t know what that means, but I suspect he didn’t have any better relationship with his father than I did with mine. At least his father was honest about him about this world.

  I wonder how his father died, but neither Enzo nor Archard explain. I don’t know how old his father was or what his health condition was like, but if what Archard said was true, even the winner is at risk of dying young. Black may have all the riches of the world, but also the enemies. It’s a dangerous job.

  Do I even want to become the next Black? I would have to do the job. Be ruthless. Order people dead to protect my own. Could I do such a thing?

  I stare at Enzo across from me. Tall, dark, handsome. But also merciless, powerful, God-like. He’s muscle, steel, and strength.

  He was bred for this.

  Trained for this.

  He’s been doing the job for the last three years. He was brought up by a father who won and knew what it would take to continue to win.

  While I grew up in a trailer park with nothing.

  No mother. Barely a father.

  No money.

  No food.

  No energy to form muscles needed to fight.

  No guns to wield as weapons to learn how to fire. And after being broken by the worst of men, I’m even weaker than before. I have no chance of winning. None.

  This battle is worse than the odds of David and Goliath. David did win, but that was fictional. This is real—and I won’t bet on me winning.

  “When do we find out what the games are? When will they take place?” I ask.

  “You will be given at least twenty-four-hours notice of when and where each game will take place along with any items you need to complete the task. Your fathers determined the rules of each game and when the rules of the game will be revealed. The first game rules, as determined by your father Miss Miller, will not be revealed until the game starts,” Archard says.

  Fucking father. He couldn’t even give me a warning to allow me a day or two to prepare for his stupid game. Unless the game is surviving the longest without food, I have no chance of winning.

  I might as well surrender now. The sooner I lose, the sooner Enzo might let me leave. The sooner I will be free.

  “When does the first game start? Is this our twenty-four-hour warning to the first game?” I ask.

  “First, I need you both to sign, agreeing you are the heirs who will be playing, and then I will set everything in motion. It will take a day or two at least to get things sorted, and then I will notify you both twenty-four-hours before the first round. This isn’t that warning.”

  Archard slides the papers to me. I sign below my name I wrote practically in crayon when I was five and agreed one person from my generation would fight.

  Except I’m the only one from my generation. I’m the only chance the Millers have of winning.

  I slide the paper across to Enzo. He signs and then glances to the door behind him.

  Langston and Zeke enter.

  I frown. I’m sure they were listening to everything as well. Why does he get henchmen to help him while I get nothing?

  “Sir, there is a situation at Surrender,” Zeke says.

  Enzo nods. “I’ll be right there.”

  “No,” Archard answers.

  We all freeze.

  Archard turns to Enzo. “You are no longer Black. You should have never claimed the title to begin with. You no longer get to make any decisions or wield any power.”

  “But the organization can’t run for days or weeks or months or however long this fucking farce lasts. I will be the winner anyway. Isn’t there some clause in there about who runs the organization while the heir is decided?” Enzo snarls.

  “Yes, you are required to run it together,” Archard says.

  Together.

  I silently laugh. Good luck with getting us to agree on anything.

  But the way Enzo is staring at me, I think he wants to do a lot more than run an empire together. He wants to slam our bodies together, and he wouldn’t be giving me any control in the matter. I would have to surrender my body to him.

  “Come on then, we have an empire to run,” Enzo snarls.

  2

  Enzo

  The contract is signed.

  I never thought this day would come—the end.

  I thought I’d be forever trapped in a lie I could never escape. I thought pretending Kai was dead would save me. I thought not having a Miller line to fight for their right to the throne would have satisfied me.

  Instead, it made me restless.

  I didn’t earn my position.

  I was given it.

  But now, I can claim it rightfully.

  You hear that, Dad?! In a few weeks, this will all be over, and I’ll be the winner. I’m the rightful heir. I will be Black.

  I exhale deeply, trying to let go of every drop of discomfort my father caused me over the years—the pushing, torture, ruthlessness. I should let every painful feeling go.

  I c
an’t.

  Not until I’ve won.

  Then I can pretend all the suffering I went through was worth it. Then I can prove my father wrong.

  Kai Miller may be strong. In fact, she’s the most relentless person I’ve ever met. But unless all five rounds are who can withstand suffering the longest, she has no chance of winning. Even if I hadn’t trained my entire life for this job.

  Her chances are hopeless.

  I could have prepared hard for a year and still beat her. Not because she’s a woman, but because of the last six years. Her body is badly beaten and still recovering. She barely has enough fat covering her bones, let alone real muscle. And despite being capable of doing whatever it takes to survive, she’s still too kind to do this job.

  Kai would only ever kill in self-defense, not because it was necessary for the greater good of the organization.

  She would never take from those less than her.

  Never yell or demonstrate her power to show her strength.

  Kai has a heart, even if she keeps it locked away behind a metal cage.

  I’m heartless.

  My father made sure of that years ago. I’m the only one merciless enough to do the job.

  But what will happen to Kai when she loses?

  She’ll go back to the trailer park with her father. Possibly even ask me for a job to keep her afloat until the next generation attempts to take my power.

  Blood boils in my veins at another generation having to face what Kai and I have been through, all to play a stupid game where the winner wins everything and the loser is lucky enough to be left alive.

  I stare at the gorgeous woman across from me. Jean shorts hang off her hip bones engulfing her thin legs that I can only imagine will strengthen and tone with time. The spaghetti strapped shirt drapes loosely over her breasts that have started to fill out again. The weight she has gained has begun going to all of my favorite places on her body—her breasts and ass. Her jet black hair reaches far too long down her back in uneven tendrils.

  But her physical looks aren’t what make her beautiful. I’m sure with more self-care, a beautician, and hair cut, Kai would be a knockout. Her thin frame makes her every supermodel’s dream body. But I’ve had models before; actresses, strippers, every kind of attractive woman.