Game of Thrones (Amica and Deckard) novel Chapter 176

Chapter 176

Darth

“Well!” Cleopatra’s interrogates. “What exactly have you gained from abandoning your post to chase after a woman who clearly despises you?”

I glare at her. “I don’t have time for your nonsense, Cleopatra.”

She lifts an eyebrow, unfazed. “Good. Because it’s about time you realized your little search was pointless. Amica is gone–and she made it very clear she wants nothing to do with this place. You, on the other hand, have bigger problems now.”

She circles me slowly, “Don’t worry. I’ll find you a suitable Luna for the meantime. What you should be doing is tightening your grip on Blackwater. Rule it like the fortress it was meant to be. How could the city allow outsiders to walk in and take Amica–without anyone noticing, without a single whisper getting to you?”

She stops in front of me, eyes hard. “Go out there. Shake the city. Make it loud. Make sure everyone who’s been keeping secrets pays the price.”

And strangely, her words settle in me like fire catching on dry wood.

She’s right.

Everyone who let Amica slip away… everyone who kept quiet…

They all have to pay.

I don’t even know what annoys me more right now. Amica definitely sits at the top of the list–but then again, there’s Mary.

“You need to let out all that aggression,” Cleopatra says, her tone softer now, almost calculated. “I know it’s not just about Amica. You’re hurt… because of Mary’s betrayal.”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” I snap, cutting her off before she can say more.

I don’t want to think about it.

It’s probably the worst betrayal I’ve ever faced.

I was actually… excited. The thought of a smaller version of me had stirred something. I wondered what he’d look like, I imginec how I’d train him to be fierce–maybe not as ruthless as I am, but strong. Commanding.

But I was right all along.

I could never raise a child to be kind… logical… soft like these weak, sentimental werewolves. No. He has to understand that this world doesn’t give men like us anything.

Not love. Not loyalty. Not respect.

You take it. By force.

Because love, loyalty, care–they’re not free. You buy them with power, with fear, with blood if necessary.

No one loves unconditionally.

You have to instill fear in people–real fear–until they bend to your will.

I’m still actively hunting for Dane. That idiot had the audacity to fake a pregnancy just to trap me. If I ever find him, I’ll gut him alive in front of all of Blackwater–make an example so brutal they’ll whisper about it for generations.

hire

For now, I’m following Cleopatra’s advice. Since Amica has vanished into thin air, no one needs to know how much I want her–or how much power I could draw from her.

I already have the position I always dreamed of. I’m here now. This city, this throne–this is my inheritance. That’s all anyone needs to know.

No one knows I’m a bastard. But does it matter? Even bastards bleed royal if they fight hard enough to claim it. I am a Blackthorn. That truth

stands.

As I step out into the city, my mind is a storm–I move toward the Blackthorn Company building, my senses sharpened, lungs pulling in deep breaths as if I can catch her scent–Amica. But there’s nothing. No trace of her.

I enter the building. The moment I walk in, everyone rises from their desks, stiff with fear and reverence. I don’t look at them. I don’t speak. I head

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straight for the damn office, shutting the door behind me with a force that shakes the glass.

Truth is, I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t know how to manage this… empire. But I know enough to understand one thing–there are people for everything. People who can make the gears turn, if I choose them wisely.

The problem is… I don’t trust anyone.

The last proper education I had was when I was a teenager–when Father still tried to shape me, still believed I could become the man he wanted at the helm of the Blackthorn legacy. He taught me about the business, the power it held across continents. But I barely remember any of it now. Those lessons are distant echoes, buried under years of violence, survival, and war.

Now I sit in this office, at the top of an empire I didn’t earn the traditional way.

I took it.

And yet… I still need someone I can trust to help me hold it.

While I’m lost in thought, a knock on the door pulls me back to reality.

“Mr. Darth?” a voice calls.

man steps in, dressed in a tailored suit and wearing far too much confidence for someone I don’t recognize.

“What?” I snap, irritation rising.

“Please, can I have a word with you?” he says, smiling like he’s about to sell me something.

“And who the hell are you?” I ask, eyes narrowing as I watch him cross the room like he owns it.

“It’s me–Randy, sir. I see you every time you come in here,” he says, still grinning like an idiot.

“I’ve never seen you in my life.”

“Oh sir…” he laughs lightly, as if I just told a joke. “I’m the CMO here. We’ve met a few times. I’m surprised you don’t remember!”

I stare him down, still blank. “Alright, Randy. What do you want?”

“Well, Mr. Darth,” he begins, adjusting his tie like he’s gearing up for a speech, “you haven’t been around much lately, and since the death of our former CEO, there’s been some confusion among the board. Whenever there’s a pressing issue that requires the CEO’s-”

“You’re beating around the damn bush,” I cut in, voice cold. “What the hell do you want from me?”

“I… I’m sorry, sir. I was sent by the board,” Randy stammers, and just like that, all his fake confidence vanishes.

“You’ve ignored every invitation to our board meetings,” he continues nervously. “So, when we saw you arrive today, we had to schedule another one immediately.”

I raise a brow, a slow, amused grin tugging at the edge of my mouth. “Hmm. So you’ve been watching my every move… I see.”

“No–just… only when you’re here,“she says, voice dropping. He’s sweating now, even under the full blast of the AC. I like that.

“Meeting, huh?” I scoff, leaning back in the chair. “Fine. I’ll attend your silly little meeting. You can leave now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrambles out of the room like a rodent chased from the shadows.

I have no interest in their damn meeting. I don’t even know what they plan to talk about. Business reports? Shareholder politics? It’s all noise to me.

A distraction.

But I can’t ignore this place forever. If I want to keep control, I need someone who can deal with this boring shit–someone who understands how this empire works.

And unfortunately, there’s only one person who fits that description.

Someone I don’t trust. Someone I hate.

Collin.

My damn father.

The man who built this company… and was yanked out of it like trash.

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The man I swore I’d never ask for anything.

But maybe… just maybe… I’ll make him work for me now.

Like he should’ve from the start

Fuck, I hate even thinking about it–let alone saying it.

That fool. The one who damned me. The man who twisted the course of my life with a single decision and sent me spiraling down the wrong path.

Collin.

The bastard who called himself my father.

I locked him away the day I seized power, and only because Cleopatra begged me not to kill him. I should’ve ended him then. But now… now I might have to let him out. Just long enough to serve a purpose. He can be of use–until I’ve learned enough to manage the businesses myself.

Not that I give a damn about boardrooms or balance sheets. I don’t want to run Blackthorn. I just want the wealth. The power. The freedom to live on my terms, unchallenged, untouchable. And for that–I need this empire to run smoothly.

The thought pisses me off more than I care to admit, but I rise anyway and make my way back to the Blackthorn castle. Down to the dungeons.

The air down here is Damp. Stale. The kind of place time forgets. When I reach his cell, I barely recognize him.

He’s

a mess–hair matted, face hidden behind a jungle of greyed beard, his body sunken and foul with rot. The man who once stood in power now looks like a ghost, half–dead and forgotten.

Then he speaks, voice fragile but oddly hopeful.

“Son… Darth, is that you? Have you come to visit me, son?”

I step into the light, my eyes cold.

“Don’t call me that,” I hiss. “Don’t ever fucking call me your son.”

He freezes. Silence settles in the cell like dust. He knows I mean

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Good.

He’ll speak when spoken to.

“You look like shit,” I mutter, eyes dragging over his sunken frame. “And to be honest, I don’t feel a damn ounce of pity for you.”

I pause, letting the silence bite. Then I step closer, voice low and direct.

“I’m only here for one reason, Collin. I need your help handling the formal affairs. The business. The boring shit. Can you do it? Can I trust you- one more time?”

He doesn’t hesitate. Of course he doesn’t.

“Yes, of course, son–I mean… Darth. I’ll handle whatever you want me to. You can trust me,” he says, desperate, clinging to the sliver of a second

chance.

That’s all I need to hear. I turn to the guard. “Get him cleaned up.”

Even after they scrub him down, Collin still looks like a man dragged out of the grave. His suit hangs on him like fabric on bones, and I can’t tell if the guards ever fed him or not. Then again, I can’t remember if I even told them to. Doesn’t matter.

After he eats, I toss a proper suit at him and have him driven to the Blackthorn building.