by W Winters
Carter left me.
He doesn’t love me. Carter Cross doesn’t love me.
Chapter 69
Carter
I can still feel her cunt spasming on my cock the first time I took her. I still dream of it.
I can still taste the sweet wine on her lips.
I can still hear her screams of pleasure and her whispers that she loves me.
I know for as long as I live, I’ll remember it all. I’ll remember what I had with her.
Tonight, I wage war against her family; I’ll kill as many of them as I possibly can.
I’ll destroy what we have together and risk her hating me forever. She was telling the truth and I can’t stand it. Tonight, I will lose the woman I love.
My gaze drops to the phone on the bathroom counter just as Jase knocks on my bedroom door.
“In here,” I call out to him and turn on the faucet to wet my razor. The shaving cream is already slathered on my skin. Since leaving her last night, I’ve fallen back into my old habits and I’m distracting myself by focusing on the war and everything else involved in this business.
He talks as I shave, ridding myself of the stubble and preparing to look the part of a man in control of an empire. “I have a proposition,” he starts, and my eyes move to his in the reflection of the mirror before moving back to my jaw.
Each stroke of the blade is precise and smooth, skimming along my skin.
He takes a step forward, filling in the doorway. “I think our problem is that we’ve been content.”
“Our problem?”
“The reason men think they can steal from us, the reason Romano is creating competition and involved us in this war.” I consider him for a moment before going back to shaving, tapping the razor against the sink before bringing the blade down my skin again. I couldn’t give two shits about any of it anymore. I’ll kill those who defy me or stand in my way. And I’ll be fucking content with that regardless of whether or not Jase is.
He tells me with a raised brow, “We aren’t expanding.”
“We have other ventures. The club. The restaurant.” I don’t know why I bother reminding him. I can see the look in his eyes. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.
“That money doesn’t compare. You know, I know, and everyone else knows it.” He speaks hurriedly like he can’t wait to make his point, but I drag it out. Just to torture him.
“We’re moving into Crescent Hills,” I tell him.
“Because you want to take on that place, not because there’s money there.” His voice is flat, his expression expectant.
I can’t argue that truth. “It’ll be worth it to be closer to the docks,” I tell him, and he shakes his head in disagreement. My patience ebbs as I tap my razor again on the sink and hold it under the running water.
“I think we need to go north. A true expansion,” he tells me and waits with bated breath.
“Talvery territory?” I question him, my eyes on his in the mirror and he nods his head. “I already gave it to Romano.”
“It hasn’t been taken yet, and Romano can go fuck himself.” Jase’s voice is harsh and his persistence shines through. Jase keeps his gaze on me even though he’s breathing harder with excitement. “We were going to give Fallbrook to Romano and he already has the entire upper east. Talvery turf should be ours.”
His eyes dart over to mine, waiting for a reaction but I give him none. I didn’t sleep for shit and I don’t give a fuck about expanding.
“Are you that bored?” I ask him dully. I remember what it was like to take control, what was required to have my name permanently carved into this territory. The sickness of it all and the risk. It’s not worth the money it makes.
“Bored?” Jase breathes out forcefully. “It’s a lost opportunity.” I don’t respond. Instead, I finish shaving, careful not to react when Jase adds, “And what about Aria?”
I rip the hand towel from where it hangs at my right and dampen it under the faucet. It’s hard to contain what I feel for her. The loss is too real. It’s too close.
“What about her?” As I clean off my face, ignoring the screaming pain in my chest, he tells me, “I heard about how she’s handling things.” I grip the towel tighter, praying my brother doesn’t say something that drives me to break his fucking jaw. Last night… I can’t even think about how the truth stabbed me in the heart like nothing else has before.
He tells me, “I think she’d want this.”
My brow furrows and I focus on breathing and controlling my expressions. “Want what?” Speaking hurts. Even breathing hurts. Everything fucking hurts.
“I think she’d want to still have the territory… maybe for her?” he offers, tilting his head and raising his brow. “Can you imagine how she’d react if we killed her family and gave her land to Romano?”
Using the dry section of the towel, I run it over my jaw, knowing exactly how she’s going to react and hating it. I swallow thickly, knowing I can keep her here. Physically, I have the means to keep her here, but that will only add to her hate. And I want her to love me. I need her to love me.
“What if, instead, we do as little damage as possible?” He moves out of the doorway as I toss the towel into the sink and make my way past him to my dresser for my cufflinks. I’m running through the motions, focused on every mundane detail that’s led me to this point in life.
“Any damage we do will break her, Jase,” I tell him halfheartedly.
“I’m telling you, this is a good idea, Carter.”
He stands a few feet from me, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “We already told Romano, but I say we hit them back to back. Talvery, then Romano and we take it all.”
“With what men?” I ask him, feeling the tingling rage creep up my spine. “Do you remember the cost of it all? How many men have to die for you to be satisfied?” My voice is raised, and my pulse quickens. I swallow back the anger when he doesn’t respond.
He flinches at the severity of my tone.
I add, “This isn’t a game and every move has consequences.”
“It’s all a game, brother.” He looks me in the eyes as he says, “A well-played and thought-out game.”
He stares at me and I him as he tells me, “If Aria was able to convince those men to do what she suggested yesterday, we would have the upper hand. Talvery and Romano would lose men, and we’d be waiting to take out the rest,” he talks with an evenness that sounds so reassuring.
“Only Aria doesn’t know that,” I tell him while taking a step forward and reaching for my jacket, which is draped across the dresser. “She doesn’t know how many will die. And she will never be okay with wiping out her family.”
The hint of a smile that was on his lips falters. “She has more to learn,” is all he can say.
“Tonight, her family legacy starts to fall, and she will never forgive me, let alone rule alongside me.” Jase’s smile completely vanishes, and he glances at his feet before looking me back in the eyes, ready to say something else, but I don’t let him. “Do you think she’ll want to rule when her territory is nothing, but a graveyard of old memories and people forgotten?”
It fucking kills me knowing how she’ll react. “She’s going to fucking hate me,” I bite out the words, grinding my back teeth against one another.
My breathing is ragged as he nods his head and runs his thumb over his bottom lip. “So, you’re saying it’s too late?” he asks.
That’s exactly how it all feels. It’s too late to keep her.
I let his question sit with me as I shrug on the jacket and button it. “I still think she would want this. Even if the war leaves a path of death to her throne, not everyone will die. She’ll have some.”
“Like Nikolai?” I reply with spite barely above a murmur, and it only makes Jase smirk at me.
“I have a feeling that fellow isn’t going to make it,” he jokes but it doesn’t do anything to soothe the nerves that won’t allow me to relax.
&
nbsp; “In thirty minutes, they’ll open fire,” I tell him as I observe the little hand on my watch marching along steadily. “The next time you have an idea about damage control, maybe come to me sooner?” I suggest, and he huffs a laugh while shaking his head.
“The war has only started,” he says, not giving up. “Just tell me you’ll consider it.”
Screwing over Romano is inevitable; doing it at the right time is crucial.
But the worst mistake Jase is assuming is that Talvery can already be counted as dead. I’ve made that mistake before, and I won’t make it again.
“I consider everything, Jase.”
Chapter 70
Aria
Three canvases are spread out across an old bedsheet on the floor of the living room. Three canvases with three profiles on each of them. Two men I love, and my mother, who’s long gone make up the three. All the while, my mind focuses on the news that plays on the television in the background.
The list of names goes on and on. I can’t look at the faces. I can’t look at the scenes as they show them on the screen.
Addison is cuddled up on the sofa, staring blankly at the TV. The names don’t mean anything to her, but to me, each name means far too much.
I’m barely holding myself together, knowing I should be at their funerals. Knowing I failed to save them. There’s a mix of contempt and dread for Nikolai. I wonder if he even tried to move them. He knew, and what did he do? I remember what he said though, it was an army he didn’t control.
It’s only a matter of time before his name is spoken, added to the mounting death toll of the senseless murders between rival gangs, or so the reporter tells us on the flat-screen TV. Even the thought, forces me to choke on a dry sob, but I hold it down.
“Does this happen a lot?” Addison asks me, and I can feel her eyes on my back, but I don’t trust myself to look at her, so instead, I place the flat brush in the cup and watch the red pigment bleed into the water.
“No, not like this,” I answer her with my back to her. I am so used to death that it shouldn’t break me like this. But it’s the first time I tried to stop it.
And I failed.
“Do you need anything else?” Eli’s voice comes from the doorway to the stairwell and I peek up at him, but I don’t respond. He got me the paints from the corner store a few blocks down. The other things were in the package from Carter. I need a lot of things, I think. But as my lips pull down into a frown and my throat goes tight, I don’t look back at him. Instead, I just shake my head no.
I hate him for standing by and doing nothing while men are dying. I hate myself for hating him, which is even worse.
“I want to go get them myself,” I tell him as the thought hits me. I need to get out of here and go for a walk. I need to clear my head. I need something. I squeeze the cheap bristles over the cup before rinsing it again. “It would be nice to get some fresh air.” I’m surprised by how even my voice is and how in control I seem. It’s only because of Addison. If she weren’t here, I have no idea how I would react to tonight.
The metal ferrule that holds the bristles clinks softly on the side of the glass as I tap it and then set it down gently on the paper towel.
I finally look up again and Eli’s watching me closely. Addison’s looking between the two of us and the air is tense among all three of us. She doesn’t ask questions though and tonight, I can feel anger growing inside of me from her not wanting to know any more than whether or not this is normal.
“I want to go for a walk to the corner store, so I can buy a few things… please,” I say the last word through clenched teeth.
“Give me an hour,” Eli responds and then adds, “please.” He mocks me, but in a way I know is meant to ease the tension. It doesn’t though.
Giving him a tight smile, I nod once and watch him leave, although I still can’t find an even breath. Everything is tense, and nothing is right. I feel like I’m breaking down. I’m losing it every second I sit here, guarded and watching the list of deaths grow.
“Are you okay?” Addie asks me as the sound of Eli’s footsteps diminishes.
“No,” I answer her honestly.
I wanted to help my family, and Nikolai ignored me.
I told Carter I loved him, I chose to stay with him, and he left me.
I’m a fool. I’m a fucking fool.
I’m helpless, hopeless and I feel like I’m at my limit.
The sofa groans as Addie slips off of it and makes her way toward me. She’s quiet as she sits cross-legged next to me and leans in to give me a hug.
“I wish I knew what to say or do,” she consoles me in a quiet voice and I instantly regret the thoughts I had moments ago. I’m so eager to lash out, I could see her being the misguided target of my frustrations, but I would never forgive myself.
Grabbing on to her forearm and giving her a semblance of a hug back, I tell her, “I wish I knew too.”
Time passes slowly until she grabs the remote and turns off the TV. The click of the picture going black is louder than I’ve ever heard it before. I want it to stay on, so I’ll know what happened, but I’m grateful she turned it off because I can’t take any more.
“Do you want to talk?” she asks me, and I shake my head. I’m ashamed of how much of myself I give to Carter, only to have him hold back in return. I don’t think I could tell her without her hating him even more. And after the night she had with Daniel, I couldn’t do that to her.
“You could distract me and tell me what happened last night again,” I offer, feeling a swell of jealousy and pain grow in my chest. Last night, I felt used. For the first time, I felt used and foolish for loving him.
“It was just a good night,” Addie says, moving her hands to her lap. I know she doesn’t want to rub it in, so I just nod and let it go. I stare at the doorway as if Eli will magically appear and let me go outside. The thought makes me roll my eyes. I’m stupid to think I had any sense of control.
Before I can spiral down the path to self-pity that kept me up all last night, Addison asks me, “Do you want to read my tarot cards?”
I watch her chew on the inside of her cheek, waiting for an answer. I’m so grateful for her that I would do anything she asked right now. For the distraction, for the genuine friendship, and so I nod.
“Let’s do it,” I answer her.
With a deep breath, I scoot backward and turn to her, sitting opposite her and cross-legged too as she reaches behind her on the coffee table for the deck of cards Carter got me however long ago.
“Okay, what do I do?” Addison asks, placing the deck of cards in front of her and staring at them like they’ll magically shuffle themselves.
“Knock on them first,” I tell her in a deadpan tone, knowing full well she’s going to look up at me like I’m crazy.
“I’m serious,” I say again and nod to the cards, folding my own hands in my lap. “You have to knock on them to get rid of any previous readings and put your own energy into the cards.”
She does what I tell her, lifting the deck and knocking weakly on the back card although she’s grinning the entire time. Already I feel a thread better. Only a thread, but it’s one more than I had before.
“Now shuffle the deck and think about something you’d like insight to. Or don’t.” I shrug and stretch from where I’m sitting, feeling the ache from leaning over the canvases for the past few hours. Just glancing at them reminds me about everything and I’m quick to turn back to Addison.
“Is that enough?” she asks me, holding out the cards and I offer her a soft smile and then gesture to the deck. “Split them into three piles, however, you want, and then stack them on top of each other into one pile again.”
“Is this how it’s always done?” she asks me while doing as I say.
“No,” I tell her, feeling a deep ache in my chest. “I learned to read cards from my mother. But she didn’t do it like this.”
“Oh, how did she do it?” she asks me, and I have to grab the c
ards and look at them rather than in her eyes when I tell her, “I don’t remember. I just had to learn on my own when I decided I wanted to use her deck.”
It’s quiet for a moment, but she continues the conversation, steering it to a more positive side. “Are these hers?” she asks me as I lay out the cards one by one.
“No, these are ones that Carter got me.” Somehow that pulls even more emotion from me as I set the final card down. I don’t tell her that I was locked in a cell losing my mind when I was given these cards. And that Jase is the one who actually gave them to me. That day, or night, comes back to me and I nearly get sick.
“This is the horseshoe spread,” I tell her as I lay out the cards, refusing to fall backward; I won’t go backward. “The significator is in the center, but each place in this spread has a unique meaning and the seven other cards are spread in a horseshoe around it. The significator, this card, is basically you at this moment.”
“The four of wands is me?” she asks me although her eyes are on the card I’m currently touching the edges of.
I nod and then add, “There are four suits: the swords, the wands, the pentacles, also known as coins, and the cups. They each represent something different in life and the wands represent creativity. Swords are conflict, pentacles are money, thus also being called coins, and the cups are emotional wellbeing. More or less.
“The four of wands in this deck— “
“I feel like this is a professional reading,” Addison exclaims, barely holding in her excitement and I have to give her a small laugh.
“I’ve read a lot about cards. A few years ago, I thought it would bring me closer to my mother.” I wish I hadn’t said that last bit, but Addison doesn’t focus on the negative. Instead, she says, “Well, this is freaking awesome.” She reaches behind her for the glass of wine and then sits up at attention. “Please, continue.” She gestures comically and takes a sip of her wine.
I have to let out a snicker that’s almost a snort and remember where I left off. “Right,” I say out loud, “The four of wands. In this deck, the four of wands is a literal marriage.” As I say the last word, I breathe in deep, realizing how emotional Addison’s been and watch her reaction, but she only sips her wine and listens. It takes a lot of pressure off of me, so I continue.
