Chapter 12 – Bloodlines
509 Words
Gregory Kingston had spent his life building empires.
He knew how to dismantle people—piece by piece—until they either bent or broke. And if Sera Navarro thought she could hide behind love, he was ready to show her just how cruel bloodlines could be.
This time, he wasn’t targeting her.
He was going after Rob.
---
Rob was walking through the city when the call came in.
Unknown number. But the voice was unmistakable.
“Robert. My son.”
He stopped cold. “I told you not to call me.”
“And yet you answered,” Gregory said smoothly. “Which means a part of you still listens.”
“What do you want?”
“A conversation. One I should’ve had with you months ago. Come to the penthouse. Alone.”
“I’m not part of your world anymore.”
Gregory’s tone darkened. “You are my world, whether you like it or not. And if you don’t come… well, I may just pay a visit to that charming warehouse of yours. With friends.”
The line went dead.
---
Sera saw the change in Rob the moment he returned—shoulders tight, hands clenched like he was holding back a storm.
“What happened?”
“My father. He knows everything.”
Sera’s breath hitched. “And?”
“He wants to meet. Tonight. Alone.”
She shook her head instantly. “No. It’s a trap.”
“Probably.”
“You can’t go.”
“I have to.”
“Rob—”
He stepped closer. “If I run now, he wins. He’ll never stop. Not until he controls you, or destroys you. And I won’t let either happen.”
Sera stared at him, heart torn.
“Then I’m coming with you,” she said.
He gave her a sad smile. “No. You’re the reason I have strength now. But this is my bloodline. My fight.”
Sera didn’t argue again.
She just kissed him.
Slow. Fierce. Like it might be the last time.
---
The Kingston penthouse was a fortress in glass.
Rob entered alone. No guards stopped him. Gregory was waiting in the center of the room, two tumblers of whiskey on the table. Always the performance.
“Sit,” his father said.
Rob didn’t. “Say what you came to say.”
Gregory studied him, face unreadable.
“You fell in love with her.”
“Yes.”
“She’s going to destroy you.”
“No. You already tried that. She saved me.”
Gregory’s expression twisted slightly. “You’re a Kingston. Our blood doesn’t mix with the street.”
Rob stepped closer. “Then maybe I don’t want your blood.”
There was silence. Then: “You’ll regret this.”
“No,” Rob said, turning to leave. “You will.”
And with that, he walked out—without flinching.
Without looking back.
---
But Gregory Kingston wasn’t finished.
He didn’t need Rob’s compliance.
He only needed his weakness.
And her name was Sera.
- Writer
