by Coralee June
“I’m here,” she whispered, and for now, just that affirmation was enough. God, she fucking sounded terrific.
The next day, I craved a stiff drink. Something that burned on the way down and made me forget about the burning of my legs. Something terrible happened last night, but I couldn’t remember what. The drugs were stronger today. Sunshine hadn’t returned.
The day after that, they kept checking my legs. My eyes opened. I could see the blurry room, hear the concerned voices. I grumbled a few cursed syllables in their direction.
Sunshine arrived after they changed my catheter. A nurse emptied a bag of piss in the toilet while my girl—my wife—walked in, carrying what looked like a burner phone in her palm. I blinked once, knowing that making a sound had its consequences. The same nurse that was kind enough to let me know what was happening had informed me that the smoke I’d inhaled burned my throat. I was literally burnt on the inside and out.
She held the phone up, waiting for the nurses to leave before sitting beside me and placing it against my ear. Immediately, Ryker’s voice sounded. “Gav. We’re working on getting Grace. We found her, and she’s alive.” My heart clenched a bit. Not once had I thought of my sister while I was here. Not once had I thought of them. What kind of leader didn’t worry about his men, his empire? All of a sudden, I had a million questions running through my mind, but a soft hand on mine quieted the noise and the need for control.
“Sunshine says you’re pretty banged up. She says you can’t even talk back to me,” Ryker continued with a small chuckle. “Sucks, doesn’t it? It made me think of the time you broke my jaw. Karma’s a bitch. And maybe it makes me a pussy to say this while knowing you can’t talk back, but I’m going to do it anyways.”
I took in a shaky breath, hating how I could feel each inhale and exhale burning along my mouth and throat. Even my nose felt like fire. “Sunshine is really fucked-up about you right now. I know pretty soon you’re gonna be able to talk again. You’re going to be better; it’s what you do. But don’t you fucking dare take this out on her. Don’t do the usual Moretti thing, you know damn well what I’m talking about.”
I looked over at Sunshine as he spoke, wondering if she could hear his growled words. “I know you, Moretti. You’re gonna wake up mad at the world, fighting for control, and fighting anyone that loves you. You’re gonna be cruel and lash out. I’m asking you not to. I’m asking you to wait until I get there, then you can punch the fuck out of Blaise and me. You can make us bleed if you really need to. But Sunshine? You have to save her from yourself because we aren’t there to stop you.”
I hated him a little bit for telling me this when I couldn’t punch his face in. I guess this made us even then. I looked up at Sunshine once more, noting the way her dark eyelashes were clumped together from moisture. She’d probably been crying. I hated the small patch of hair shaved away on her scalp, where a red and glaring scar taunted me. She was alive. She was alive. I was in control. She was alive.
Ryker then said one more thing before Sunshine took the phone away and pocketed it. “You can control yourself, Gav. You can’t control anything else, but you can control yourself, you can control the way you stand back up from this.”
I wanted to kill the asshole for being all wise and sentimental and shit. Here I was on my deathbed, and he was busy telling me how to approach the situation with Sunshine. And damn if it didn’t make me respect him more for it. This was why we worked. This was why empires failed, and blood didn’t matter. Family was a choice. The Bullets were forever.
And I owned them all.
Chapter Two
Sunshine
Present Day
Thirty-six percent.
Thirty-six percent of Gavriel Moretti’s body was burned. The back of his thighs. His back. He had inhaled so much smoke that it singed his nostril hairs, making him prone to colds. It burned the inside of his mouth, stealing the taste of food. Every inhale now aggravated his throat, and he’d go into coughing fits that hurt him even more. After getting discharged from the hospital, we disappeared to Vermont, to a safe house in the mountains peaceful and quiet enough to heal and cope with all the bad news thrown our way.
“You should sleep,” a soft voice said to me. I turned to look at the kind nurse Gavriel hired to stay with us as he recovered. Courtney was her name. We’d developed a routine and kinship of sorts. She’d tell me to get some rest, and I’d roll my eyes.
How could I sleep knowing that Ryker and Blaise were still out there, facing Santobello and struggling to get Grace back? Last we’d heard, they had a plan to sneak her out undetected from his home, but that was over a week ago. If I wasn’t obsessing over Gavriel’s health, then I was worried about my other men. Worry was officially my default setting these days, but it was an emotion I was used to.
All of us had our vices, I supposed. Gavriel had his desire to control us all. Mine was my addiction to wanting everyone to be okay. Blaise once accused me of hyperfocusing on them to avoid my own shit, and he was right. But right now, I didn’t give a fuck. He wasn’t here to chastise me about it either.
I knew it wasn’t fair of me to be angry at them for leaving. I would have done the same. But sometimes the resentment was like a thorn at the bottom of my foot, hurting more and more the longer I stood on it. It kept burrowing into my skin, making it possible to ignore. Even if I didn’t fault my guys for leaving, it didn’t make the pain of missing them any less.
“You know I don’t do the whole sleep thing,” I replied with a sad smile. I also didn’t do the whole eating thing. Self-care was low on the list of priorities lately. I didn’t feel like I was doing anything useful. I was just existing, watching, waiting to be helpful but never really living up to the expectations I was putting on myself.
I let my hair down and ran my finger across the angry scar covering my scalp. For the most part, I could comb my hair in a way that hid it, but it was always there, reminding me of the night Paul Bright died and tried to take us with him. I quickly smoothed my dark hair and threw it back up in a bun. I didn’t like things that reminded me of the fire, which was probably why I didn’t like myself most days.
Two hours ago, Nix sent a coded message to the burner phone I kept practically glued to my palm. It said that they’d be arriving tonight but couldn’t explain much more.
“You can’t pour from an empty cup, my dear,” Courtney said, pulling me out of my thoughts with a lighthearted laugh. Empty? I didn’t even have a cup to pour from these days. None of us did. She rolled her eyes for a moment before placing a soft hand on my shoulder.
I was wearing a tank top and some sweatpants, long ago giving up on making an effort towards my appearance. It’s not like Gavriel really saw me anyways. He was always too busy staring out the window and thinking. He made me feel like a ghost, and most days I found myself wondering if I really did survive the fire. Questioning Gavriel’s and my existence was one of those things my mind kept doing.
“They should be arriving soon,” I said in a hopeful tone to Gavriel, who had just stopped standing by the window to slowly move towards his leather wingback chair beside the west-facing window. I prayed that having the gang back together again would bring him back to me.
A deep soreness had settled into his bones since the fire. No amount of walking or physical therapy seemed to help. He just... hurt. Courtney once said to us that most of it was a mental battle, and he threw a glass of water at her in response. She’d never mentioned it again, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it. How could we get Gavriel back to the domineering and powerful man that I knew and loved?
“Is everything ready?” he asked. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of excitement in his tone. I’d gathered that there was no brotherly affection that Gavriel held for his sister. She was a responsibility to him. Everything was a responsibility to him.
“Yes,” Courtney and I replied simultaneously as he stroked his chin with his index finger. She and I were doing that a lot lately�
��speaking at the same time. Guess that’s what happened when you spent a lot of time with someone.
“Good,” Gavriel replied.
I still remembered my time in the hospital. One of his skin grafts on his lower calf tore, and in a moment of weakness, he mouthed that it hurt to exist. Even though he couldn’t speak, it still felt like a scream. I left the room before he could see me cry, and I couldn’t stomach going back until the next day.
But even through all of this, there was one thing that remained constant about his personality: his determination to love and care for me. The only times he broke out of his dazed staring at the world was to make sure I was okay. His check-ins were brief and subtle, but I grabbed hold of them with the hope that things would get better soon.
“Make sure Grace’s room is ready,” he told Courtney. I still wasn’t used to the rough tone. He’d always sounded so domineering, but now there was a gravelly quality to his voice. I kind of hated it. Not necessarily because it was unpleasant to hear, but because every time he opened his mouth to speak, it reminded us both of what had happened.
Courtney interrupted. “Already done. I have the medical team waiting downstairs. The psychiatrist you’ve requested is here, too. They’ve all signed the nondisclosure agreements and have been paid what you requested. They won’t be telling anyone about this place,” she assured. “I also have a... kit… prepared. To test for trauma of a sexual nature. That way we can check for diseases and make sure she isn’t pregnant.”
Gavriel twisted abruptly to stare at her with eyes so black and cold that even I shivered in fear. “Leave,” he growled. Courtney immediately dismissed herself with a small smile and a wave, heading out of his bedroom door and down the stairs. She long ago stopped being intimidated by Gavriel, despite his every effort to push her away. I wasn’t sure if her nonchalant attitude about him was hurting or helping his mental state. I think he liked knowing he could still terrify a person.
“You think they’ll be okay?” I finally asked Gabriel after a long moment of silence. We had to be careful. Santobello wanted us dead. Gavriel assured me that no one aside from the Bullets and a tiny team of men that stayed loyal to him knew about this place, but the worry was still there.
While we were at the hospital, we were safe—or at least as safe as we could be. Santobello wasn’t stupid enough to plan an assassination in such a public place, not so close to my father’s death. Gavriel was being monitored too closely by the doctors, media, and nursing staff. The world wanted to know what was happening to the other victims of the fire that killed Paul Bright. Santobello was already struggling to cover up the explosion. And if Gavriel—or Sir—mysteriously died during his recovery in the hospital, it would look even worse.
They ended up framing a general contractor that had worked on the gas line a week prior. My father had it all planned out, and it ultimately worked in our favor, even though it killed me to be on the edge of exposure like that. But the moment Gavriel was strong enough to be released, we escaped to here, a tiny town in Vermont, hidden in the mountains and hidden from Santobello.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I said, answering my own question when Gavriel didn’t respond.
Gavriel spoke up. “I need my medicine,” he croaked. I stood up and shuffled across the dark wood floors towards his nightstand before heading to the attached bathroom. I then filled up a glass in the sink with water. Holding the small, white pill in my palm, I waltzed over to him, admiring the way the setting sun was casting shadows over his tired body.
I couldn’t see his expression in this lighting, but I assumed that he had that sad, dazed look about him. And once I was standing next to him, he didn’t bother grabbing the glass from my hand; he grabbed the pill then downed it dry.
“You are ridiculous,” I said while rolling my eyes. “I don’t know how you do that, especially with your throat scarring.” Just yesterday, he told me that if he couldn’t stand the feel of whiskey anymore, then he’d die a dry man. It was one of the more dramatic moments that we’d had since the fire, but he did drink significantly more water now. It was just random times like this that he liked to remind himself that he was tough.
Such a lovely contradiction my mob boss was. He considered himself strong enough to swallow a pill but weak enough to need it. Couldn’t he see that I thought he was strong regardless? He saved my life. He saved Callum’s life.
“I miss whiskey,” he grumbled.
I miss you, I thought.
I clung to his little statements of pain and focused on getting him better. There was no room for my own guilt and shame. Not when I had a man hell-bent on destroying himself. I bit my tongue, determined not to ask him for the millionth time if he was feeling okay. I had this instinctual need to ask him over and over and over again until his answer changed—until he told me the truth.
“Are you okay?” I internally scolded myself for spitting out the question despite my best efforts to swallow my concern.
“Yep.”
“You’re so chatty today,” I replied sarcastically, forcing a light tone in my words. Gavriel smiled a bit at that.
“I feel fine, Mrs. Moretti. No need to worry. I’m grumpy because I don’t know what to expect. I hate not knowing. Not being involved in decisions or rescue missions.” I nearly gasped at his honest admission. Maybe things were getting better.
“I hate not knowing, too,” I replied.
“I hate knowing my time to hoard you to myself is up,” Gavriel added. “I know it wasn’t the honeymoon you deserved, but…”
I rolled my eyes, thankful for this brief, playful moment with Gavriel.
“A romantic couple of weeks in the mountains? It was every girl’s dream. And don’t forget the candle-lit dinner we shared at the hospital,” I joked.
“Oh, how could I? I wore my best hospital gown, you know the one? With my ass hanging out for you to see.”
In an exaggerated move, I licked my lips and fluttered my lashes at him. Gavriel flip-flopped between handling things well and sulking. I’d learned to go with the flow and take whatever moments I could. I guess nearly losing someone made you appreciate every fucked-up side of their personality.
A knock on the door to his bedroom pulled my attention away from Gavriel, and I turned to greet Callum. He looked rough, his beard a little longer than usual, his hair a little more unruly. He was wearing dress pants that fit just right and a button down shirt that was wrinkled. He was why I refused to allow myself to wallow in all the guilt being thrust upon me. Callum Mercer felt enough guilt for all of us. “Hey! Need me to help you down the—”
“No. I don’t need your goddamn help.” Gavriel stood, albeit slowly, before turning to face me fully. Oh God, his face. His beautiful, perfect face. No amount of scarring on his body could take away from how enthralled I was whenever he looked at me. He had dark eyes that have seen what hell looked like and came back to tell the tale. His right cheek was scarred, red and patchy, but still beautiful, in a terrifying and unconventional sort of way.
“Oh, of course,” Callum replied, his voice barely a shameful whisper.
Gavriel moved more slowly now, but it merely accentuated the stoic way he commanded a room. Even with all the scars and torment in his eyes, he looked like a man that could still break you. I hated that the world took what control he’d been clinging to, but Gavriel Moretti always came back swinging. Even if he hadn’t realized it just yet.
Gavriel straightened himself and adjusted his crisp jacket. “Stop staring.” I stopped looking at him to stare at Callum. Poor, poor Callum. He gave into the darker sides of himself and was punished for it. He was cursed with empathy, and in one fleeting, maddening moment of courage and rage, he lost himself.
We both knew that day would come, but none of us ever expected that it would be Gavriel to pay the price. Callum had taken on most of what was left of Gavriel’s responsibilities as of late. I wondered if he hated himself for practically running a dying crime syndicate, or if he c
onsidered it his due punishment. Callum Mercer was all about justice, after all.
I wanted to tell Callum that I missed him. I missed all of them. I craved the physical closeness and comfort they each provided. We’d all distanced ourselves while trying to put together the broken parts of our group. I mostly stayed with Gavriel while he healed, but I missed Blaise and Ryker. I was thankful that, as of tonight, we’d all be back together. Maybe now, the five of us could finally work towards being a family—or at least being whatever it was we were.
“Blaise and Ryker are already downstairs if you’d like to see them?” Callum asked with uncertainty. I couldn’t help but wonder why he seemed so unsure, but my heart raced at the reality that they were here. They were finally here.
“Okay,” I replied with a swallow, for some reason feeling a sudden mixture of anxiety and excitement over seeing them. Even though only six weeks total had passed, I felt so...distant. We’d talked, they’d occasionally called to check on Gavriel, to give updates and check on me. But I didn’t know how we’d just dive right into a relationship. Did I greet them with a hug? A kiss? Why was I even overanalyzing this?
“What’s wrong?” Gavriel asked. His voice startled me.
“Nothing,” I immediately replied.
He then rolled his eyes, taking a step closer while staring me down, his determined nature coming to the front of his expression. I really was the only person he acted like himself for. “Tell me,” he ordered. I was wondering how I could possibly voice something that felt so trivial in comparison to all the things he’d faced.
“Just nervous to see Blaise and Ryker is all,” I mumbled while looking down at the ground. I half expected Gavriel to chastise me, but instead, it was Callum that stepped forward and placed a tender finger under my chin, directing my gaze up to meet him. His blue eyes pierced through my defenses as I spoke. “It’s dumb, I know. I wish I could turn off these anxious thoughts, but what if their time away made them realize that whatever is happening between us isn’t going to work? This isn’t a...conventional relationship. And it’s selfish of me to expect you all to be okay with sharing me.”
