by Shanna Bell
He took position on a hill across the chalet. No one was going to tear them apart. No one.
EPILOGUE
CARMEN
Two months later
Carmen put her hands on her hips and stared at the metal monstrosity in the parking lot.
“Really, guys?” she grumbled. “Why not just hire a tank?”
When Sy gave her a look as if he were seriously considering that, she rolled her eyes.
“We’re not taking any chances,” Vince said, as he ushered her into the back seat.
Ah, yes, that subject again.
Unlike her, they believed Marni was a crazy, cold-blooded killer and might come back to hurt her. It was a continuing point of discussion between them. Her men believed Marni was deranged and she should stay as far away from her as possible. As for Carmen, she wasn’t giving up on her. They were all the products of their upbringing, and that girl more than anyone.
She sighed as she pushed herself in the huge SUV. Her butt had barely touched the soft leather before Sy sat next to her, strapping on her safety belt. Her guys took being overprotective to a whole new level. It was no use telling them she wasn’t in any danger anymore. Looking into Sy’s pale blue eyes, which seemed to have a permanent hint of worry specked into them, she let it go. She gave him a peck on the cheek, trying to somewhat ease his worry without words. He’d come a long way, her stubborn warrior.
“You look hot, gorgeous. After the baby shower, I’m gonna fuck you real long and hard.”
“Oh, Sy,” she gushed, batting her lashes. “Ever the eloquent gentleman.”
“Yeah, I’ll become a gentleman when you become a lady.” He winked. “The banshee screaming in our bed last night was no lady.”
Her cheeks flushed. He sure did like to make her scream; they both did.
Sy’s hand slid down the front of her red satin dress and rested on her belly. Soon, she wouldn’t fit inside this dress anymore, nor in the spiked heels that went with it. Which was a shame, because it was her favorite dress, the one she wore on her first night out with her guys. It felt like forever had passed, yet at the same time, time had flown by in the blink of an eye. In the midst of it all, they had weathered the storm. Together.
The same went for the wounds Keegan had inflicted upon her. Vince had brought over the best plastic surgeon money could buy. Truth be told, she hadn’t lost a night’s sleep over the scars. She knew her men didn’t care, but most of all, she didn’t really have the time to worry about them.
Her hand automatically went to her rounded stomach. Learning she was pregnant had trumped all other news, eased away any ache, or possible trepidation she might have felt over her scars.
Even months after discovering she was pregnant, seeing her small baby bump didn’t cease to amaze her. It had been the weirdest experience of her life—waking up in a hospital bed and finding out she had survived Keegan’s slicing, and that she would become a mom, practically all in the same moment. Feeling like she had whiplash didn’t begin to describe it.
Whiplashed and gobsmacked.
Awed and inspired.
But most of all, grateful. Thankful she got another chance, this time with two men who loved her, doted on her, and made her feel like she was the center of their universe, just as they were hers.
She couldn’t help but notice that one-half of her universe was frowning at her belly.
“Something wrong?” They had learned about the gender of the baby just yesterday, thanks to a blood test, and though Vince had been over the moon, Sy hadn’t said much. He had just looked… shell-shocked. Yep, that was the right word for it.
Sy cleared his throat. “I think I’m going to jail.”
Vince let out a snort from behind the wheel.
She didn’t get it. “What?”
Sy’s eyes narrowed. “If anyone even looks funny at her… Hell, first thing I’m gonna teach her is how to shoot a man’s nuts off.”
The knot in her stomach disappeared. Funny, she hadn’t even known that his silence had bothered her.
“People frown upon toddlers wielding a gun,” she said. “How about teaching her something that doesn’t require any ammunition?”
He hummed. “Knives.”
“Good thinking,” Vince scoffed. “Giving sharp objects to a kid.”
The banter went on for a while as Vince tried to convince her he would be the responsible parent.
“How else is she gonna deal with fuckers coming at the door to take her out?” Sy asked.
“She ain’t dating until she’s thirty,” Vince answered.
This went on for another fifteen minutes and Carmen leaned back, taking in their heated discussion. When the talk ventured into medieval torture techniques territory, Carmen decided to step in.
She gave them both a firm look.
“You’re not putting her into a chastity belt on prom night, Sy. And you’re not placing a tracking chip in her arm, Vince.”
God, they were absolutely ridiculous. And she loved them for it. She had everything she had ever wanted and more. A smile formed on her face. She was truly blessed. Guess it was true what they said, that every cloud had a silver lining. For so long, she had lived in darkness, weathering storms and earthquakes. Finally, the raging storms had settled down, and sunshine arose. She couldn’t help but think that every bump in the road had led her to this exact moment in time in the universe. Every wrong turn, every heartache, had eventually led her to her greatest desire. To have her own family to love and be loved by in return.
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Ready for the Bloody Ones?
Here’s the teaser for the prequel of Viking and Elena’s story.
***
TEASER
Sixteen years ago.
Standing on a rooftop, Viking watched his girl walk out of the chapel across the building. Elena wore a white dress and a lace veil covered her dark curls. She was on the arm of another man.
Lorenzo Morelli.
The man who first stole his turf, then his woman.
Witnessing her betrayal with his own eyes, he stood rooted on the spot. His stomach felt like it had been cut open with blunt razors. Seeing the woman who he thought one day would be the mother of his children, broke something inside him that would never mend.
I’d rather have gone blind…
“Just say the word, and I’ll finish them.” His little brother, Sy, had a rifle aimed at the happy couple.
He tried to answer but his throat refused to move. His vocal cords were useless. Every bone in his body felt broken, his veins doused in acid. It felt like that time he’d been bitten by a snake and left for dead in the desert; a burning venom spreading over his body, paralyzing him limb by limb.
How the fuck had this happened? He’d only been in the can for a week, and his life was turned into ash.
Everything he had ever done, Elena was always in the back of his mind. Every penny he earned had her name written on it. He was going to dress her in silk and overload her with jewelry.
Another man will do that now.
Kristoff came to stand next to him. “Think before you act, bratan.”
Yeah, they were brothers—not by blood in the traditional way, but by bleeding for each other. Even though it felt as if he was looking into a deep abyss trying to swallow him whole, he wouldn’t want anyone else with him right now but Sy and Kristoff.
His eyes were glued to El
ena and Morelli. He had his hand on her elbow, guiding her toward a car across the street. He had his fucking hand on her. An ice-cold darkness crept inside his heart, hardening it, covering it in cement, and decorating it with bared wire.
Do you love me, Lena?
I do, Viking. Only you.
How much do you love me?
I can’t put it into words, that much.
Big. Fucking. Lie.
In his world, liars got punished. And he’d warned her. If she’d ever cheated on him, he’d make her bleed. His word was his bond.
“Sy.”
His brother nodded and took aim.
“Don’t.”
Easy for Kristoff to say. “Not your woman cheating on you.”
“Not your woman anymore either.”
His words were as painful as his upper cut. Still, it was true.
“I told her.” He grabbed a hold of the railing. “I said if she ever cheated on me, I’d make her pay. I fucking told her I’d hurt her every day for the rest of her life. And we were going to take out the Morellis one day anyway. They’re growing too big to handle.”
Kristoff’s eyes narrowed on Morelli and his crew that surrounded him. The greasy Italian had been a thorn in their hide for months now, slowly starting to claim more and more of their territory. The soon-to-be dead asshole was a small-time hustler, dealing drugs and trafficking women. As of a week ago, he had his eyes on their gun supply chain. Since he had his big-ass Italian family of soldiers, he believed he had the upper hand.
Except, he didn’t know Kristoff the way Viking did. Their crew of misfits was small. They didn’t have the traditional blood bands or shared racial background that formed gangs and groups. But they had something the Italians, Irish, and the Armenians in San Francisco lacked; they were blood brothers, bound by loyalty forged in hardship. They were the future. They were the Bloody Ones.
At least, that’s what he’d always thought. Right now, seeing his other future walk away from him to be with another man, he didn’t care so much anymore. The other Families could have the streets. All he needed the streets for was to paint it red with blood.
“Remember when that cop tried to rape Angel?” Kristoff’s eyes turned into a black pit.
“Yeah.” Viking remembered all right. It was the day they had met. The day he accidentally walked into a shake-off under a bridge. A cop and a pimp walk under a bridge. It was like the beginning of a bad joke.
“Remember what I told that cop I’d do if he wouldn’t let go of the kid?”
How could he ever forget? “You said you’d make him eat his own dick.”
“Was I true to my word?”
“Hell, yeah.” The image of that faithful night was etched into his mind for ever. Angel, on his knees in front of a crooked cop. His brother, Damon, raising hell against the pimp, but battered and bruised and with his hands tied behind his back, he didn’t stand a chance.
“And when we found that case filled with cash, didn’t I divide it between us, asking you for only one thing?”
Stand by me, and we’ll end up running this town.
“Whatever you do, don’t land your ass in jail,” Viking repeated.
“Exactly.”
He hated it when Kristoff used reason to calm him down. He didn’t know how the man could be so cold-blooded. Maybe it was the Russian in him. Either way, despite his promise, he failed Kristoff as well since he did get locked up, even if it was for only a week. Seeing his brother’s face smashed by his step-father had pushed all his buttons. He knew what he was—violent, impulsive, and sometimes acted rash. Sue him. But when a man put his hands on your brother, you broke those hands. Or, in his case, grabbed your ax and cut off his fingers, one by one.
“But I did get my ass put in jail.”
“And I got you back out.” Kristoff put a hand on his shoulder. “Believe me when I say that you’ll get your revenge. We’ll take everything from him. From both of them. Revenge is like vodka. It’s best served ice cold.”
Sy made an impatient sound from behind. “They’re almost in the car, Vik. I’m losing my window of opportunity here.” He snorted. “Fuck this. That bitch don’t deserve to live.”
He aimed, and Viking lurched at him, pulling away the rifle. When his brother wouldn’t let go, he smashed his fist into his face. Sy was out cold.
Kristoff looked down on Sy and shook his head. “Youth.”
“You’re barely two years older.”
“I’m an old soul.”
That, he was. Just like Viking had believed Elena had been. Like they were two old souls who had found each other in this rotten world. He’d been wrong, so fucking wrong.
“I will be the one,” Viking vowed. “I don’t know when, don’t know how, but I swear on my father’s grave that I’ll make her pay. Skarsgards always hit back.”
The last he saw of Elena was a piece of her white veil when she got into the car and drove into the fucking sunset.
May you never smile again.
May you never find peace.
May you never enter heaven.
***
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Other books in the Bad Romance series:
The Leader
The Enforcer
The Gambler
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