It’s a fucking upheaval. Ryder has his hand fisted so hard I’m certain the nails are biting grooves into his palm.
His guilt is clear, as is the fact that it’s unnecessary. He’s blaming himself for something that really isn’t his fault.
It’s no one’s but mine. The walls around us are the grotesque gray of an underground building, which we currently are. A man hangs upside down from a chain hitched to a pole, his face about as colorful as a bleached bone in a desert.
Well. I guess it would be, considering how much blood has been taken from him. The floor is coated with it, a vicious dark pool that seems far too long.
‘How much longer does he have?’ I snap at Ryder.
‘About an hour. Should be dead in less than that if his weak lungs don’t hold up.’ Ryder walks over to the man and sinks a solid punch into his stomach, his shoulders snapping back under his leather jacket.
The crunch of bones and the loud wail that opens the man’s lips do nothing for the anger boiling through me.
I pull a gun from the hostler that swings across my torso and walk over to him. There’s no need to waste my time on scum like him.
Ryder hears my footsteps and turns his head to me. He stops and then lopes towards me fast, his footsteps biting the ground between us. He places a hand on my arm and hisses at me. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Killing him off. He’s useless to me.’
‘We don’t have the information we need from him,” Ryder turns to glare at the man who is crying, the tears dripping out of fat black eyelids. He’s been tortured for hours, and yet, still no information from him.
He won’t say a word if we beat him all day. He is, after all, a man of the Mafia. It is after all one of the reasons he had been ours.
He understands this is the end of every traitor. And he deserves every second of the pain we have given him as punishment.
Because he sold us out. To the fucking Russians, no less. And now the news of my father’s Illness is in the streets, in everyone’s mouth. There will be hell to pay, and I will start with him
“You,” I spit. “Talk.”
The man’s eyes flutters open. He wheezes slightly. “No.”
“Then you’ll die.”
“I’m dead anyway,” he whispers.
“There’s time. Ryder can call a doctor. Talk, and I’ll save you,” I grunt at him.
The man shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. If you don’t kill me, they will.”
“Who are they?”
He lapses into silence. I can see it, then, in the shape of his jaw.
He’s resigned himself to die.
There’s no reason for me to keep going. I turn and look back at Ryder.
‘We won’t have the information we need from him. So better we use him to inform the rest.’ I growl, the words tumbling like dry weed past my lips.
He deserves to die. Things are going to be so much worse now. I need to get to my father. I need to protect my men. I need to nip the uprising of my very own men in the bud. I need to get my family to safety. And I need to make sure I have a tight grasp on things.
‘Let me do it.’ He takes a gun from his thighs, and the click as he pulls the hammer echoes through the dim room. ‘You go to your family.’
I turn away from him, walk a few steps, then turn fast and click at the hammer of my gun. A few seconds later, the man slumps forward on his chains, his shoulders relaxing in death.
I still feel nothing. Nothing but anger. Rage. Wrath. Fury. I want to rip something apart. I want to kick and rage, but all that is tucked away inside. Beneath the layers of control I’ve been taught since my tender years to express.
I swivel to bear down on the men who line the doors and space around us. ‘Let that be a warning to anyone who even bears the thought. Before you think it, I know you. I will find you.’ I point at the broken man, bloodiest, streaks of red essence flowing down his skin. My voice is an angry roar. ‘That will be your fate. Yours and your family’s.’
The room is silent enough to hear a pin drop. Ryder walks up to me, and together, we leave the room. I return the gun to its place and nod at Ryder, who makes a call to bring the cars to the bar doors. We take the steps up to the ground floor of Alec’s club, where we have a bunker underneath.
Alec meets my angry face and looks away. He takes a long look at Ryder and walks over, avoiding my right side. He knows that’s my most powerful hook. I hide my grin, my shoulder loosening marginally. ‘Is he dead?’
‘Yes. Xander dealt with him.’
I point a finger at Alec. ‘Come to father’s. We need to be there with him. Mother will need us with the news everywhere and on every bastard’s lips.’
I walk away, striding through the club with music so loud it rattles my bones. And this is still the middle of the fucking day, but it’s so dark inside the path to the door is illuminated by strobes of dark light that sizzle red and blue and purple across the velvet of the club. These idiots would never believe what it is that they help hide.
When Ryder and I step outside, one of my men rushes to the door and has it open. Ryder rides gunshot, and I slip into the back seat, close my eyes, and exhale the rage out of my pores.
Men do not bring the rage to the house. Especially because my wife will be there. ‘Where’s Mel?’
‘Rosa has had her transported to the house,’ Ryder says.
‘And where’s my son?’
He has no ready answer.
The silence begins to stretch, and I snap out of my seat. ‘Where the fu…’ I stop and swallow the swear. I will not dirty his name like that. ‘Where is my son?’
Ryder pulls his phone from his jacket pocket and calls Rosa. He barks out the question, then listens for a few seconds. His shoulders relax, and mine do too.
Ryder tips his head back to speak to me. ‘Daniel is picking him up at school.’
‘Send some more men,” I growl. I look outside the window at the people going back and forth. They have no idea the danger that floats, digs, and swirls around them, among them. All they think is that life glitters, and they only worry about trivial things like bad coffee.
I almost wish I had their life. That the very scent of danger doesn’t mean my son must be pulled out of school, that he was still safely back with his mother, that I can protect him from the damp twirl of fire that is his father.
But I also love having him around. I’m greedy enough that his snuggling in my arms manages to still me. To bring peace in much the same way that holding Mel makes me someone else.
Someone who is hers. Not the monster with a fiery chest full of fire that combusts and burns, dragging along enemies that kill. That torture and maim.
We arrive at Father’s thirty minutes later, and I’m relieved to see Romero at the door, his face tight. He nods inside and then greets.
‘Where is she?’
‘With your mother.’ He replies, then looks away.
I step through the open door, and Enzo closes the door behind me. ‘Good afternoon, Boss.’
I spare him a nod and take the hallway, curving a single corner into the living room where Declan and Knox are seated on two separate sofas.
Knox watches me warily. ‘Everything’s okay.’
A mask flits across my face to hide the tug of pain and hurt I carry. It makes no sense how I can forgive Mel but not these men. ‘I never asked.’
Declan smiles wryly and pushes to his feet. He’s dressed as always in a three-piece suit, this one a light blue that somehow manages to look masculine on his bulky frame. He walks over, and I sink my feet into the Persian rug beneath us. ‘I’m sorry.’
I tilt my head, then squeeze my fists at my side. ‘Are you now? What does that have to do with me?’
Knox walks over too, and they step closer in sync, crowding my space. ‘This really ain’t the time for us to fight.’
I inhale and exhale. Then I hurl off and punch Declan right in the stomach with my left fist. An ‘oof’ of air escapes his lips, and his hand covers his stomach, but he doesn’t show any reaction apart from that. Knox opens himself up to receive his, but I grin at him.
He blinks, as does Declan. They had done wrong by not telling me about my son but they were my brothers, it’s no good to hold it over their heads forever. ‘I’m done. You two hurt me. I understand you didn’t mean to, but you did.’
Declan softens, then smiles too, a slight curl of his lips that looks painful. Knox leans into me and curves his arms around my back in a big bear hug. Declan does the same, and I hear a sniff that seems to come from Knox.
‘Are you crying?’ Declan asks softly.
‘Don’t be an asshole,” Knox murmurs. But when he pulls away, his quiet eyes are suspiciously bright.
‘Oh.’ The words come from the stairs, and I turn to find Melissa gleaming down at me. She traces her fingers over her lips. ‘I really thought you three idiots would kill yourselves. That was really sweet.’
My stomach flares with fire, an inferno raging that flickers and bites. ‘Come here,” I grunt at her.
I need her.
I don’t know how, exactly, but I need the solace that only her body can provide.
‘That was our warning to get out,’ Declan mutters. I don’t spare them a glance as their footsteps shuffle out of the room. My eyes are entirely on the woman coming towards me.
It doesn’t matter if the hounds of hell are licking outside, if the fire is getting hotter, if the bastard Russians are creeping near like vines up a building.
I will never not want this woman. I will never not need her to smile at me this way, rush down the stairs and into my arms, sink into me like she is mine, and she knows this as a fact.
I press a kiss to her hair, tighten my arms like a band around her, and then another kiss to my mark, which is just dying away on her skin. ‘Are you okay?’
She tips her head up to press a kiss to the throbbing vein right on my neck and grins up at me. ‘I’m fine. You don’t need to worry. I listened to Romero. I followed him here like you wanted. I’ve been a good girl.’
Gesù Cristo.
She floors me, just like that. I cup the back of her head and tip her lips into mine. My tongue sweeps immediately between her lips, and I curl it over hers.
She moans and gives me a hard kiss back. Her teeth grind down on my tongue, and I groan.
‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Come upstairs.’
She nods and kisses me harder, letting her hands roll over my skin, the pad of her thumb pressing into my stomach.
She sighs and smiles. Her eyes open. ‘What happened?’
I sigh just as softly and tug her into my side. ‘Gabriele ratted us out to the Russians. The men were being antsy. I didn’t know how fast they would strike. I need you safe.’
She gazes up at me and nods. ‘Who’s Gabriele?’
My finger tightens around her waist, and I snort angrily. ‘A dead man.’
She stops and looks up at me. ‘Will this always happen? Will his life always be disrupted like this?’
My guts want to spill. But I know the truth. I’ve lived it for years. ‘Yes. Until things die down.’
She’s quiet the rest of the way inside the house. I have nothing to say either, but the silence isn’t the sort that needs breaking into.
It’s the silence of two people who understand each other enough that words are not necessary.
When we enter the dining room, Mother and Father are already seated. Father looks dead already, a skeleton with breathing skin.
I walk to him and bend my head to receive his kiss. He waves at a chair for me. ‘We knew it was going to happen soon. This is nothing to worry about. The wedding will go on, the contract will be signed, and you will take over. As we always planned.’
Mother closes her eyes and then pats the chair beside her for Mel. Mel gives me a look, and I nod. She takes the chair beside my mother, and I take the one beside Father.
Mother doesn’t have a female in the family. I sort of understand why she needs Mel.
‘I know, Father. I understand my duty.’ But today, the words taste sour, sliding like slough off my tongue.
