by Eva Ashwood
“I suppose you also betrayed Landon,” I say bitterly. “I suppose you orchestrated it all with your fucked up agenda and managed to pin it all on Dad, make it look like he ratted out Damian’s brother.”
She shrugs. “Landon deserved what he got. And so did your father.”
It’s not a surprise to hear her confirm it at this point, but her words still make my blood boil. I want to step forward and hit her, to drag her to the ground and wale on her until she looks as fucked up as whatever body they pulled out of the car did—the body that was supposed to be her.
“You did,” I grit out. “You fucking framed Dad. You’re the reason we left Chicago so fast. Why we had to hide for all those years, why he said we could never come back. You forced him to run before Damian could kill him.”
Her face turns impassive. She no longer looks like she’s enjoying this little walk down memory lane. Maybe it’s because I don’t seem impressed by her fucked up scheme to wreck my dad’s life. To wreck my life.
Or, who knows, maybe I was just collateral damage. She obviously has no fucking problem with that.
“We women need to look out for ourselves,” she says, her voice cold. “Men think we have no place in their business, in their mafia, except to be ornaments on their arms and satisfaction for their desires. Look at me now, Grace. I’ve changed that.” She jerks her chin. “Those men behind me? They work for me. They obey me. They do as I tell them, not the other way around.”
She says that like it’s something to be proud of. Like it’s proof that every shitty thing she did to reach this point was worth it.
What she doesn’t get is that the men who stand behind me would jump at the chance to do anything for me, and more than that—they treat me as an equal.
And I didn’t have to kill anyone or stab anyone in the back to get here. I didn’t have to ruin lives.
“I want you by my side, Grace,” she says, and for the first time since our meeting began, the softness that steals over her features for a brief moment doesn’t look fake. “I want you with me. That’s why I sent those men to Washington. That’s why I worked with Brian to get you back. Not to have him kill you. But to bring you to me so I could show you what is possible.”
“No.”
That’s all I have for her. Just one fucking word.
“No?” She seems almost shocked. Did she really think she won me over by telling me how she betrayed my dad? How she forced me and him to run, making us go into hiding on the other side of the country?
“No,” I repeat, more firmly this time. “I will never join you.”
I might as well have slapped her across the face, hard.
Even if I was still treated like a prisoner under the care of Hale, even if they still tied me up every night and watched me, distrusted me, hated me, I know the truth now. Everything is crystalizing in my head, all the things my mother has told me finally forming a complete picture, filling in the blank spots and the things I could never understand.
Camilla is responsible for all of this. Every lie that I’ve ever been made to believe, it’s been because of her. Every moment since the day Dad came home and told me she died in a car wreck, she’s been plotting and planning behind the scenes, making moves to eventually take over Chicago.
My father’s death.
My capture.
Even as far back as Dad and me having to flee, having to leave everything behind.
I grit my teeth. “I want no part in whatever you’re doing. So if that’s what you called this meeting to ask me, then we’re done here.”
Her face hardens. “You’re making a mistake, Grace. I’ve spent years building up my power in this city, and I will not be stopped. I’m taking down the Novak syndicate. And if you choose to stand with them… I’ll take you down too.”
12
Zaid
The location Camilla chose is to everyone’s advantage, but I still don’t like it. I don’t like that I can see everything going on between Grace and her mother, but I can’t hear what they’re talking about.
Which means I don’t know what the older woman just said to Grace that made her flinch. I can’t hear what Grace responded with that made Camilla’s mouth tighten in barely contained rage.
But what’s worse than that? Worse than not being able to hear everything?
Not being able to protect her. Not being able to put my body between her and danger.
I’m too far away from her to lunge in front of her and protect her if Camilla pulls something. I’m too far away to even anticipate it coming. By the time any of us got there, it would be too late.
Camilla knows it would be absolutely stupid to try anything, but at this point, I wouldn’t put anything past this fucking woman. Even stupidity.
It would be a bloodbath on both sides if anyone fired a shot—both the Rooks and the Novaks are armed to the teeth, even if a lot of us don’t look like it at first glance.
I don’t even try to roll my shoulders or ease the tension in my body. I can’t relax, not in this fucking place, not when every damn atom of my body is aware of everything around me.
Camilla.
Grace.
The way Hale’s breath quickens, then returns to a normal pace.
This is taking too fucking long, I think, my gaze trained on Grace. She’s been out there too long.
I have no clue what they’re talking about, but whatever it is, neither of them seem happy about it. We’re standing close enough that facial expressions are readable, and the way Camilla tightens her lips tells me she’s not pleased. I can’t see Grace’s face, and I wish like hell I could.
Then, without warning, Grace turns sharply away from her mother.
The whole room seems to flinch with her sudden movement, a ripple of guns and weapons being pulled out, both sides aiming at each other.
But Grace knows what’s at stake, and she isn’t stupid. She doesn’t draw the gun holstered to her torso or make any threatening movements. Instead, she simply strides away from her mother without another word and walks back toward us. She doesn’t even spare a single glance over her shoulder.
The message couldn’t be more clear.
Meeting over.
My pulse picks up as she gets closer to us and farther away from the psycho bitch behind her. My three best friends and I hold off for as long as we can before we move from our positions and stride to her side, surrounding her in a cage of bodies and protection.
Grace’s face was impassive as she walked to us, but as we gather around her, the mask crumbles for a split second. Her whole body shakes with rage as tears glisten in her eyes.
“Just get to the car,” Hale mutters. “We’ll talk about it there. Keep your eyes straight ahead.”
She nods, biting her lip. A fierce need to know what happened out there in the middle of the warehouse fills me, even more than when it was going on. Camilla said something that deeply upset or pissed Grace off, and I don’t take well to people hurting her.
I shouldn’t look back, but I do. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to Camilla, still standing in the middle of the room. She watches the five of us as we shuffle her daughter away with a chilling hatred in her eyes.
Fucking hell.
We get Grace outside and into the van, and I help her with the seatbelt buckle when her shaking hands can’t manage. The rest of us pile in quickly as our men fan out, getting into their own vehicles while point men cover us. Ciro drives this time, and Lucas and I sit in the back seat with her.
As we pull away, she drags in several long breaths. Her body is still vibrating beside me, and I lean a little closer to her. Reassuring her that we’re here. That we’ve got her back.
“Lies,” she mutters. “So many fucking lies.” Her hands clench into fists. “She didn’t actually want to marry my father. It was an arranged marriage, and she hated the idea of giving up her freedom. So she decided to manipulate everything. She decided to fuck with everyone’s lives, without caring about the
damage she caused.”
“Jesus.” Lucas lets out a snort. “Arranged marriages aren’t all that common anymore, although they still happen sometimes. Did you know that, Hale? About Camilla and Samuel?”
Hale shakes his head. “No. If my father knew, he never told me. I always thought Camilla adored Samuel. And that he loved her.”
“He did.” Grace nods. “He loved her even after he thought she died. Even after she betrayed him. At least he never had to find out the truth. It would’ve broken his fucking heart.”
In a quiet, clipped voice, she fills us in on the rest of her conversation with her mother.
“She asked me to join her. To bring down the Novaks,” she finishes. I let out a curse that’s echoed by Hale in the front passenger seat.
“What did you say?” Lucas asks.
“I said no, of course!”
I fight the urge to smack my brother across the back of his head, but with Grace between us, I resist.
“Sorry, stupid question,” he mutters.
“No, it’s fine.” She drags a hand through her hair, letting out a short breath. “I’m still just… you know. Processing everything.”
Shit. I understand how that feels. The hurt. Frustration. She’s taking all of this a lot better than I would.
“She said it as if she wanted to make it a mother/daughter thing,” Grace adds under her breath. “As if she thought I would…”
She shakes her head, swallowing. Without thinking, I slide my hand onto her knee, offering a comforting touch. I meet Hale’s gaze in the mirror at the same time, but he doesn’t say anything. He only gives me a small nod, like someone needed to take care of her in this moment and he’s glad I did.
I nod back.
I’m not quite sure when it happened, but the tension that once existed between all of us when it came to Grace has been slowly fading away. Maybe it’s because the ups and downs of our lives lately, the deaths and betrayals, have highlighted what’s really important.
All of us care about this woman. All of us are falling in love with her.
She’s what’s most important.
And if it takes all four of us to make her happy? To keep her safe? So be it.
“What happens now?” Grace asks suddenly, glancing from me to Lucas before looking up to the front seats. “We know what my mother wants now. So what do we do with that? Where do we go from here?”
No one responds, and silence fills the car as we all contemplate the same thing. Just because we met with Camilla once doesn’t mean that it’s all over, and as much as I’d like to think her vow to destroy the Novak Syndicate was an empty promise, we all know what she’s capable of. It’d be foolish of us to think that we could go into this and come out without shedding blood.
Hale keeps his gaze trained on the dark road ahead of us. His next words are the calm before the storm, deceptively simple.
“Now, we go to war.”
13
Grace
By the silence of the house, you wouldn’t think that there’s a war going on around us.
But I’ve been part of this world long enough to know that war isn’t always about open gunfire or bullets flying. Sometimes it slinks through the shadows, silent and deadly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that this was simply another normal, routine day.
But I do know better.
Hale hasn’t been around as much in the past week—it’s only been one week since we met with Camilla, and yet it feels like months. There’s so much to sort out, to plan and take care of, and it’s keeping him away from the house more than usual. Not that he used to be around all the time, but now that he’s not…
I miss him. I never thought the day would come when I would say I miss Hale Novak, but that’s the only thing I can credit the aching emptiness inside my chest to. I know that his first responsibility is syndicate business, and what he’s doing right now is only to keep everyone, including myself, safe. But I’m selfish.
The selfish part of me wants to go back to the way things were before Camilla’s betrayal was revealed.
I feel like my life is divided into a series of “befores.”
Before Dad and I left Chicago.
Before my disastrous wedding.
Before I was kidnapped.
Before my mother turned out to be a psychopathic killer.
Before our meeting.
The men all agreed that I handled the meeting well, but it’s hard for me to accept that. Everything about that conversation with my mother felt wrong.
The moments she and I spent face-to-face are seared into my mind like a brand. I can go over it in my head, second by second, every word and every breath that was exchanged forever imprinted in my memory.
“Grace. Hey, Grace.” Lucas’s quiet voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “You there?”
“Oh, sorry,” I stutter, blinking. Shit. “I was just…”
I don’t finish the sentence, because I don’t even know what I was doing. I’m sitting on a couch in the living room with a book open in front of me, but I could hardly call what I’ve been doing “reading.” I haven’t turned a page in over five minutes, and I’ve been staring so hard at the words that they all sort of blurred together into a gray mass.
I can’t focus on anything. Not with the threat of my mother looming over me like a dark cloud. Not with worry for the men weighing heavy on my heart.
“Are you okay?” Lucas asks, tone softening. He sits down next to me, plucking the book from my hand before wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
I let him pull me back against the soft cushions of the couch, leaning into his embrace as I rest a hand on his stomach.
“Honestly, Lucas? I’m not really sure how I feel. I don’t know if I’m sad or pissed or upset or frustrated. Sometimes I feel okay, and other times I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs and tearing my hair out.”
He makes a noise in his throat. “We all feel like that sometimes. You just have to keep pushing on. One minute at a time, and if you can’t do that—one second at a time.”
I know what he means. I’m thankful for his advice. I’m just not sure how to apply it. I’m not sure if I can even try to apply it.
Sensing my mood, he changes the topic, craning his neck a little to meet my gaze. “Hey. Zaid and I are going out soon to get some groceries. You want to come with us? We’ll have a few guys come along and stake out the outside of the store so you’ll be safe. Not that Camilla will likely try anything, but I’d rather be sure we’ve got backup.”
I perk up a little at the suggestion. Now that I’m no longer a prisoner—though I haven’t been one for a long time now, in their eyes—they’ve been more open about letting me go places with them. Never alone, never by myself. But that’s not because they don’t trust me; it’s because they don’t trust anyone else.
I still haven’t decided how I feel about being a highly prized bargaining piece between two rival mafia groups, but I’ve chosen not to think about it.
“Yeah. A distraction might be good.” I smile at him and push up from the couch to stand, already feeling a bit better. “Let me just go get dressed.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You are dressed.”
“I mean in something besides this.” I gesture to the soft house pants and tank top I’m wearing. They’re barely a step up from pajamas.
“I think you look great,” he insists, his eyes heating as his gaze drops to my chest, taking in the way my nipples press against the fabric of my top.
My pussy clenches in response, and I consider suggesting we scrap the grocery run altogether and find some other way to distract ourselves. But I really do want to get out of the house. I’ve been going a little stir-crazy, and I know I’ll feel better if I do.
“You really want me to leave the house like this?” I ask, turning toward him just enough that my breast grazes against his arm.
The friction makes my nipple peak even more, Lucas moves like lightning, reaching up to palm
my breast as he wraps his other arm tighter around me, pulling me closer. He drops his head to kiss me at the same time he catches my nipple between two fingers and pinches it hard.
I whimper into his mouth, and he swallows my startled, plaintive noise with a chuckle.
“All right, princess. Go get dressed.” He gives me one more kiss, then releases me, swatting me on the ass as I stand up. “Meet us back downstairs when you’re ready.”
Another car pulls into the grocery store parking lot just a second after ours does, and as Lucas, Zaid, and I emerge from our car, Lucas gives the driver of the other one a quick nod. It must be the security detail he mentioned. On the one hand, it seems excessive for a trip to the grocery store. But on the other, I can’t help feeling grateful they’re here.
Grateful that these men care enough about my safety to go above and beyond to protect me.
The three of us walk inside the large grocery store together, leaving the security detail outside to keep an eye on things.
Since my abduction, it’s taken me a while to get used to leaving the house again. To go out in public without feeling like everyone is staring at me. Even now, I find myself looking over my shoulder every once in a while, although Zaid gently reminds me that those furtive glances make me look more suspicious than just acting normal.
But when the last time you were in public as a normal person was one of the last times you were with your fiancé who later tried to murder you, it’s hard to remember what normal looks like.
I suppose this is regular for the twins, however, so it’ll have to become regular for me too.
Eventually.
I have a small glimmer of hope that I’ll get there one day, but I have a feeling it won’t be until this shit with my mother is all sorted out. And I’m honestly not sure how long that’s going to take—or if any of us will still be alive at the end.
A few people glance our way as we make our way down the aisles, although no one seems overtly suspicious or afraid of us. In fact, one woman who passes by openly gawks at the twins, smiling a little when she catches Lucas’s gaze. When it becomes clear that they’re with me and very interested in just me, she turns out of the aisle with a slightly wistful look on her face.