by J Bree
I needed the redemption of making out drunkenly with Aodhan last night. I needed the high of finally crossing that line with him now that I don’t have my brother breathing down my neck. What right does he have to ruin my night?
I take a deep breath before I open my front door to him. He’s wearing a Tom Ford suit and a pair of Prada loafers, charcoal socks and a Rolex. It’s the one I gave him years ago which almost takes my breath away but there’s a file tucked under his arm so clearly this isn’t a social call. Luca is with him of course but in the light of day I really don’t want to see him.
He was the one to find Aodhan and I in the Jackal’s rooms.
Don’t think about it, Avery. Harley’s words echo in my head, don’t drown.
“We need to talk.”
I frown at Atticus but he looks at me, unrepentant for his lack of niceties. “You have my number, a phone call would have done the job.”
His hands slide into his trouser pockets. “Can I come in or are you going to insist on doing this out here? I’m not going to hurt you now you’re alone here.”
I roll my eyes at him and step aside. “Just you, I’m not having your men walk their dirt through my house.”
It’s only Luca outside but I can’t look at him, let alone say his name. Atticus frowns slightly but when he glances back at Luca he’s already leaning back on the car with his sunglasses back on, looking up at the clouds like that’s a useful pastime.
I understand he’s being kind and giving me space but Atticus doesn’t. He’s keeping his word to me and lying to his boss.
I’ll need to remember to tell Ash and Harley to ease up on him a bit.
I walk Atticus through the foyer and into the kitchen. He looks around politely but I have no doubt he’s already got the layout of this place on file. I once invited him here to see it when the renovations were still underway but he’d told me he was too busy. It hurt back then… still stings to think about but at least now I know why.
He was trying to keep his distance as much as possible so no one would ever find out about me.
I sigh just thinking about it and he casts me a look as I gesture at the table for him to take a seat as I fix us a cup of coffee each. He doesn’t make a move towards it, just stands there within arm’s reach of me like this isn’t my home, like it isn’t wired to the hilt with security that a member of the Twelve himself monitors for the Wolf.
“I can go out if I want to. It’s none of your business who I spend my time with, Crow.” I speak firmly but quietly, keeping my eyes on the task at hand.
“It’s not as simple as just going out, Avery. I’m not trying to control you but there are bigger things at play here.” His irritation at me using his Twelve name darkens every word and mentally I give myself a point for it.
I tilt my head at him. “Fine. Tell me what these bigger things are and I’ll promise to take them into consideration.”
His eyes narrow just a little bit and he stops to look me over properly. I’ve taken too much care in my appearance to be worried about him noticing a goddamn thing wrong with me. If there’s anything I can do perfectly in this world, it’s dress to impress no matter the state of my world.
“I came here to do just that. I wasn’t expecting you to be on your way out though. Spending the day with the Stag again? Or is the Butcher taking you out to some hovel in the Bay?”
I turn to face him as I turn the coffee machine off, wiping my hands on a clean towel even though my skin itches to wash them properly. “Neither. I’m preparing myself for the night ahead of us. Why shouldn’t I look my best to represent the Wolf at the Twelve meeting?”
He grimaces and I give myself another point. Of course, I’d be wearing this stunning white suit, full of lace and skin bared in the most unlikely places for the Twelve meeting.
I’m not exactly subtle when it comes to my loyalties.
He finally takes a seat, sliding the file across the table to where I take my seat after I place our coffees down. He picks up his cup like it’s been years since he last touched one. I’m sure it has been but I don’t start my mornings without caffeine. Not ever. My eyes drift down slowly to the words written in his perfect lettering in black ink across the front of the file.
The Lily Heart Killer.
I shuffle through the pages but all of them show the same thing over and over again. A serial killer who kills indiscriminately, men and women of every race and age. No pattern in victimology to be found, none of them linked except for the signatures in the way their bodies are left behind. The chests carved open and their hearts removed with precision. The women have a lily planted in the open cavity and the men have dirt sewn into the chests. All of the victims are left with a scripture from the Bible, referencing men of God.
And the Devil.
“This doesn’t mean it’s him.” My voice gives away nothing, not the fear pooling in my stomach or the way my heart is pounding in my chest.
Nathaniel Morningstar Graves may be Lips’ brother but he’s also a threat to everyone who wishes to continue breathing. I have no doubt that he would kill me and my family without a second thought if he so much as suspects we have become a threat to his blood.
He’s not on my list to look into for a reason and Atticus is risking us both by digging into these murders.
He doesn’t show any fear about the repercussions of his actions. “He’s a player on the board, if we overlook his actions purely because of fear then he has an advantage over us.”
I straighten the pages back up and place the pile back onto the table. “He already has the advantage. He’s the Devil. There is no stopping him.”
Atticus shrugs. “The Devil is only the name he has chosen for himself. He’s still a man and can be taken out if handled correctly.”
I sigh.
I can’t help it, I can’t help but feel as though he’s trying to force me to choose and there are a lot of things I would choose Atticus over but my family isn’t one of those things. He should know this already and the fact that he’d even try this pisses me off.
Unless there’s more at play here. “Why would you want to take him out? What exactly has he done to you?”
Atticus stares at me, assessing my every breath. I think half of the reason I’ve become so good at reading people is because I’ve tried to see what he sees when he looks at me this way.
The other half would be surviving Joey and Senior.
“He’s a serial killer. Have you suddenly become tolerant of criminals who kill dozens, if not hundreds, of people?”
I try not to show my irritation at him. Of course, he brings up my father, brings up the hell that was my childhood dealing with a man who enjoyed collecting girls and women to rape and torture to death.
Am I so sure Nate is different?
No. I’m really not, but it isn’t my decision. Lips gave me all the time I ever needed to decide on my blood, how could I possibly offer her less than that?
“Ash has killed for me, and I know that there isn’t some magical number that he would stop at just for the fear of killing too many people. The Wolf has killed dozens at least. The Butcher hundreds for sure. How many men have you killed, Crow? How many deaths have you ordered? I’m not sure you should throw stones.”
The corners of his mouth turn down at me calling him Crow again but that’s exactly what I wanted to happen. I want it to be a direct hit because he needs to remember that he’s not innocent here. Just because he’s righteous in his own mind that doesn’t make it any better.
Lips has always killed for a reason.
Illi has too, for money or for love. Why is that any different than Atticus?
I slowly push the file back over to him. I’ve read the contents and there’s nothing in there that I couldn’t find for myself if I needed to. He stares at me for a second but even though I just woke up, I’m too tired to deal with this anymore.
“I’ll see you out.”
He sighs and stands up. “We can’t b
e friends anymore?”
I scoff at him, the derision dripping from my tone. “I don’t want to be your friend. I have never wanted that and, frankly, I don’t think the Crow of Mounts Bay has friends. He has people that he cultivates alliances with, people that are useful to him. I am no one’s pawn, not even yours.”
I start towards the door but I can’t help but see the smirk on his face that chips away at the ice casing on my heart. “Floss, you don’t have friends either. You have family and pawns. You think I don’t know that you vetted the Wolf before you let her in? We’re the same that way.”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
It’s always been easier for me to shut out that he’s the reason I was given that name, that he’s the reason I don’t want to be called that nickname by anyone who isn’t my family and only because they’ve called me that for so long that I’d have to explain why I wanted them to stop.
Ash would not take it well.
I wait until we’re back at the front door before I reply to him. “Maybe you’re right, maybe I don’t have friends but you’re the one who chose to not be a part of my family. You wanted to give me up for the greater good so now you get to live with that choice. You don’t need to protect me and you definitely don’t get to tell me where I’m allowed to go. Goodbye Atticus.”
Chapter Four
I’m not proud but I definitely go back to bed after Atticus leaves.
It’s that or I’d have to redo my kitchen and I’m very conscious of the fact that I have to go to the meeting and I don’t have time to have a full-blown cleaning meltdown.
I can save it for later.
When I finally have to get up, I pick out my outfit with the utmost care.
A de la Renta dress that falls just below my knees, a Balmain couture tailored jacket, and a pair of Choos on my feet, I’m dressed entirely in white and with the same understated wealth that anyone born in my social circles is. Nothing with garish logos but still dripping in money.
None of that matters to me anymore.
I’m dressed in white because I’m attending the meeting as the Wolf’s proxy, the delegate she’s sending in her stead to sit in the meeting and make decisions about how the next Game will run. She trusts me with this and I’ll do everything in my power to not only make the right decisions but also to learn what I can about the other members here.
I need to watch them all carefully, pick up on what their plans are, and make our own moves on the board accordingly.
Illi arrives on time to pick me up, the BMW he drives immaculate and a lingering scent of Odie’s favorite perfume in the air.
He gets out and opens the car door for me, cracking a joke about not dressing to the occasion.
I slide into the seat and wait until he’s back behind the wheel and pulling the car back down the driveway before I answer him. “I’m proving a point… and I’m gathering data. We need to know who here is going to question Lips and our family.”
He drives a lot like Harley, like the car is an extension of his soul and I’m sure that he’d love to be racing his way over to the warehouse that has been chosen for the meeting but with me in the car he’s showing restraint.
It’s sweet in a very Butcher way.
“The kid is lucky you’re into this shit, neither of us enjoy political bullshit. Stab first and all that,” he mutters, and I shrug at him with a smirk.
“Both of you have played the game for years without me. I can’t pick up a gun and help defend our people the way everyone else can, but meetings? This I can do in my sleep.”
Illi shrugs as he weaves through the traffic. “I’m sure you could pick up a gun if you needed to, Queenie. I think the kid and I have done everything we can to make sure that you can defend yourself if you need to.”
There’s a little photo hanging on the visor of Odie in a vibrant blue dress, the color of Lips’ diamonds, as she sits in a cafe in France. There’s this grin on her face that she only wears when she’s staring at Illi and it makes my chest ache a little.
Why is everyone I’m surrounded by in love and happy and complete while I’m desperately trying to scrap together the pieces of myself so I can just exist in peace?
Great.
The signature Blaise Morrison Pity Party has somehow infected me.
Illi notices me looking and shoots me a lopsided grin. “Our honeymoon. That was the day after I cut her cunt father’s heart out. He was a piece of shit, a different kind of bad than yours but still fucking shitty.”
That clears my head a little. “At least you’ll know exactly what not to do.”
I’ve already congratulated him on the drive back from the party when the margaritas were still strong in my blood. He’d looked so happy.
The meeting is being held at is one of the Bear’s now ruined businesses. Illi drives up to the warehouse and waits for a second before the roller doors slide up and then he drives through. There’s enough tools and scrap metal lying around that it’s obvious this was once a chop shop for cars but it’s been gutted by the raids.
Illi catches me taking everything in and chuckles under his breath. “It used to be a big money maker… lots of big rigs went through here but this is the shit that happens when you side with a dickhead like the Jackal. He’s lucky he only lost his business and not something irreplaceable.”
I nod slowly. Lips has never told me the full story of what happened between the Butcher and the Jackal but I know enough. I know enough that I’m once again glad that the psychotic asshole is dead.
“What ended up happening to his body? I’m usually more… careful about knowing the details but after everything that happened, I just left it to Ash and Lips that he was definitely taken care of.”
Illi pulls the car beside Aodhan’s Impala and I keep my face carefully blank at the sight of it. Illi doesn’t pry into my life but you don’t get to be a man of his statue in the Bay without keen observation skills.
He doesn’t move to get out for a second and he grunts a little under his breath before he finally answers me. “I know you’re not cool with gory shit but I took D’Ardo’s head off just to be sure the little fuck couldn’t have some sort of Jesus-resurrection moment and fuck our lives up. If anyone could pull that shit off, it’d be him. The body was cleaned up by the Crow, you’ll probably find him stuffed somewhere in his basement like a fucking trophy.”
Thinking about the Jackal’s head being cut off doesn’t make me feel sick at all.
If anything, it makes me feel sick to know that I wasn’t there to see it for myself, to know for sure that he’s definitely gone because sometimes when I shut my eyes, I can still see him standing over me with a knife.
I can still feel his lips pressing against mine.
I shake my head to clear those thoughts away, it’ll never be the right time or place to think through that stuff but now definitely isn’t it, and then I open my car door only to find Aodhan there waiting for me.
I smile at him and take the hand he’s holding out to me to help me up. “You’re early.”
He grins at me and keeps a hold of my hand as he shuts the car door for me. “I didn’t want you facing the Crow’s bullshit by yourself.”
Illi stalks around the car and even when his eyes dip down to our hands, he doesn’t comment about it. “He showed up to her place today to get that shit out of the way so there weren’t witnesses. Queenie can hold her own.”
I blow out a breath and roll my shoulders back a little, shifting them in the blazer. It’s stunning and fits me perfectly but that doesn’t mean it’s the most comfortable thing I own.
Beauty is pain.
“I can deal with him better than you can, your face looks terrible.”
His grin doesn’t falter, if anything it gets wider. His jaw is bruised and his knuckles are scuffed up on both of his hands. His dark hair is tied back and instead of the roguish look he usually has he looks like some kind of tortured artist.
It’s not a bad look.
> The butterflies in my stomach are ridiculous, I should not be getting weak in the knees over him, but the moment Illi turns his back on us to lead the way Aodhan lifts my hand up to kiss my palm and I just about melt into the disgustingly dirty warehouse floor.
“I’m sorry the Crow ruined our night, Queenie. You were supposed to be getting a night to let loose and instead you got more fucking politics.”
I shrug as we walk, leaning in close to him to murmur back, “Politics is all I know. Don’t worry about it, Stag, maybe we can go out again sometime?”
We step into a large room covered in posters with naked women on them and dirty rags left everywhere that you couldn’t ever force me to touch. My skin crawls and I want to run away screaming. My fingers tense around Aodhan’s and he pulls away from me slowly, and when I glance back up, I see we’re the last ones to arrive and there’s a few eyes already on us.
Aodhan must have thought I was uncomfortable about being seen too close to him when really, I couldn’t give less of a fuck about what these pathetic criminal lords think.
I can’t voice that now though.
Illi holds out an arm for me to take, ever the gentleman, and I slip my hand into the crook of his elbow. Atticus refuses to look at me, even with the Jackal gone and every line of my body straightens until I’m holding myself up like the ice queen Illi always teases me about being.
Let the games begin.
“There’s no point in running the Game again until the Wolf returns.”
Now that the Jackal is dealt with and the Lynx isn’t here throwing sultry looks at all of the men she’d like to manipulate into her bed, the meeting is much faster and more bearable than they were before.
I’d only been to one meeting before the Jackal turned on the entire institution of the Twelve but Lips had told me they were always like that. Ego stroking men and petty fighting over things that don’t really matter… it’s all sort of pathetic.
