by Eva Ashwood
“I’ve questioned her on multiple occasions,” Hale continues, “and I would be absolutely fucking shocked if she had something to do with this.” He leans on the desk and lowers his face to eye-level with his father’s. “If I were you, I would be more concerned about finding the mole in your own syndicate.”
Damian’s jaw twitches as he glances from his son to me. His eyes are hard, and it feels like his gaze penetrates right through my skin—all the way down to my heart as the poor organ thrashes against my ribs.
I do my best to stay still and calm, even as nerves prickle through me. I don’t know what he sees in my expression, or in Hale’s. Does he know what’s happened between us? Has he guessed?
And if he does know, will it mean my salvation? Or my death?
4
Zaid
Ciro switches between clenching his fingers nervously and rapping his knuckles against his thighs as he stares into space. The tattoos on his hands flex with the movement, and I stare at them to distract myself from wondering what the hell is going on behind that door.
My friend started with tattoos when he was young. I’d see him one day, and the next, he’d show up with a whole new piece on his arm or his shoulder. Most of them are from before he was taken captive for several months, but he’s gotten a few since then. It’s one of the only times he’s let someone touch him. Ciro is twitchy about things like that, but weirdly, the pain of a tattoo must override whatever other discomfort he feels when a person gets too close to him.
Tearing my gaze from Ciro, I glance over at Lucas, who sits across from me. He immediately looks up, and I swear I can practically hear his fucking thoughts.
Is she gonna be okay?
Fuck, I wish I knew the answer to that. Damian is a reasonable man, but he’s not a sentimental one. There’s no fucking way he’ll cut Grace slack just because her father was once an important player in the Novak Syndicate.
Especially not since Samuel Weston betrayed Damian’s brother.
Lucas lets out a long breath. I do the same without thinking, as if we’re mirror images of each other. We sit in complete silence, straining to hear anything from the other side of the door and waiting for the meeting to end. None of us says a word—not just out of respect for the people on the other side of the door, but also because none of us can think of anything to say.
It stung like a bitch to be kicked out, slighted like that by Damian. He trusts his son, which means he trusts us, but apparently not as much as I thought. I’m glad as fuck that Hale stayed behind with her, but I wanted to be there by Grace’s side, ready to protect her. To defend her.
I know that Hale cares for Grace, no matter how fucked up in the head he is about all of this. He’ll keep her safe. But with every second that ticks by, my body grows more stiff.
Shit, I hate waiting.
I hate being out here where I can’t see her, where I can’t anticipate harm coming her way—verbally or physically. I want to be by her side, even if she doesn’t trust me. I want to prove to her that my priority now is to protect her.
“So back the fuck off.”
Hale’s raised voice filters through from the other side of the door. It’s the first sound I’ve heard since we got kicked out.
I glance over at my brother, then at Ciro, my hands clenching into fists. We all know Hale respects and loves his old man, and to hear him speak with such fury toward his father means that Damian overstepped somewhere.
But for Damian to overstep…
Fuck, what the hell is going on in there?
“Shit,” Lucas mutters, glancing at the door.
All three of us seem to decide at the same moment that we can’t just sit around anymore. I stand at the same time Lucas does, and Ciro is right behind us. I take a step toward the door with my brother and friend flanking me, waiting for the slightest hint of a raised voice. If shit goes sideways in there, Hale will need us. Grace will need us.
And we’ll deal with the fallout afterward.
But before we have to decide whether to disobey a direct order from Damian and re-enter the room, the office door opens. All three of us stand to attention immediately, waiting for our command.
“Come in.”
Hale jerks his head, holding the door open for us. His expression is calm, but a muscle in his jaw ripples as he clenches his teeth.
We file in one by one, resuming our earlier positions behind Grace, and I'm instantly relieved now that I can see her. I have to fight to keep my gaze on the back wall of the room as I’m trained to do, not on her.
Is she okay?
My self-control is weak as fuck, and I glance down at her, assessing her posture. She remains seated in her chair, neck stiff and back straight, but Hale leans his body against the desk, looking at his father. By the glare on his face, it’s clear that Damian’s feathers have been ruffled as well.
I curse inwardly. It’s one thing for Hale to be on edge, but both of them?
Whatever went down in here while we were outside, I don’t think it’s resolved. At least, not fully.
The tension between the two is strange, uncomfortable. Hale and his father are two parts of a well-oiled machine, working together in harmony. Damian trusts his son more than he trusts his own men, rare for the mafia. Rarer still, Damian respects and loves his son. He’s never felt threatened by Hale or jealous of him, as other syndicate leaders have been with their first-born.
Hale returns the sentiment—he’s always been close to his father. While others plot to bring down their family members for their own personal gain and power, Hale would lay down his life to defend his father in an instant. His mother died a long time ago, and he’s aware that one day his father’s job will become his, but until it does, Hale’s support goes to Damian and Damian only. He’s in no rush to rise to power.
Damian snaps out of contemplation, turning to us instead, and Hale pulls away from the desk. Like a restless wolf, he doesn’t sit down, keeping his body angled in front of Grace’s as if to shield her from his father.
It’s okay. It’s a good fucking thing we’re all looking out for her, I tell myself, feeling a flare of jealousy at his defensive posture.
I’ve never been jealous of my friend. Jealousy makes you stupid, and it won’t get you anywhere but dead in our world. But in moments like these, I wish like fuck that I had the power to stand up to Damian and not end up with a bullet between my eyes.
“My apologies for keeping you in the dark,” Damian begins, directing the comment toward Lucas, Ciro, and myself. His voice has calmed, as well as his posture. “I know you’ve been a part of this mission from the beginning, but I needed to see where my son stood in all of this.”
He shoots a pointed look toward Hale, and Hale doesn’t say anything. I’m not sure if Damian found the answer he wanted, but nothing is betrayed in his face.
“I’ve always done my best to make sure innocent people don’t get caught up in our business,” the syndicate head says, his gaze lingering on Grace. She doesn’t flinch under his stare. “Despite the danger of our line of work, despite the fact that some may disagree with our ways of making a profit, honor can exist even in a life of violence and crime.”
He purses his lips, sweeping his gaze around the room. “You’ve all been part of my organization long enough to know that I don’t stand for violence where there is no need for violence. You also know that people who defy that rule find themselves… on the wrong side of a bullet.”
We all know what he’s talking about. There are people who want to join the syndicate because they think that by becoming one of us, they’ll get free access to drugs and weapons. They want to abuse that power. And Damian’s right. Our business may be organized crime, but we hold ourselves to a certain degree of decorum. Those who disrespect those rules find themselves exactly as he said—dead.
I don’t envy the bastard who finds himself on the wrong side of Damian’s wrath.
“So,” he continues. “I will allow that the
re’s a possibility Grace didn’t know anything about her father’s plans or dealings. Both recently and in the past.”
I break my resolute training for the second time tonight and look at Grace again, trying to read how she takes this information. She does her best to keep her face impassive, but her shoulders slump in relief with the news, her body betraying her.
Thank fuck. I let out my own breath of relief for her sake. For my sake.
I don’t know how I would have reacted had the verdict been different.
Stupidly, most likely.
“Why Samuel betrayed Landon, and whether or not he was still involved in the criminal underworld up until his death will continue to be investigated until we find answers.” Damian’s eyes narrow as he cocks his head at Grace. “Just because I’m not blaming you for your father’s actions, that doesn’t mean I can just let you go.”
We all knew this answer was coming. Grace was prepared for it, but she still jerks as if she’s been hit. My chest tightens, and I suddenly wish like hell that she’d taken me and my brother up on our veiled offer to let her go. We might’ve paid for it with our lives, but at least she’d be safe.
What will he do with her? We’ve got safe houses spread throughout the city, so he could send her to one of those. But the thought of Grace being under the protection and control of anyone besides the four of us makes my blood boil.
Calm the fuck down, Zaid.
Grace draws out the possessive animal within me, the primal instinct to protect. I know she can hold her own, but our world is vicious. I don’t want to leave her alone among the goddamn wolves.
Damian gestures toward us, his gaze still fixed on Grace. “As a compromise, you may stay under the protection and custody of my son and his men until we figure out what happened at your wedding and who the other group of attackers were.”
Thank God.
Every set of eyes turns to her, assessing her response. The only sign of her own emotions is the way she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, swallowing slowly. Then, with a deep breath, she pushes her shoulders back and looks Damian straight in the eye.
“Thank you,” she says. “Thank you for dealing with me fairly. If my father betrayed you, he betrayed me too. He lied to me and kept secrets from me, and believe me, I want to know the truth as much as you do.”
Damian inclines his head in acceptance of her words. There’s a hint of sympathy in his dark eyes. “As long as I find no evidence that you betrayed my syndicate, you will be taken care of, kept safe. But you can never go back to your old life, Grace.”
“I know.” She keeps her chin raised, her voice steady. “I knew that from the beginning.”
But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow now.
Pride blooms in my chest as I watch her stand and turn to Hale. She’s already been through a lot of bullshit in her life, but she’s never let it break her. She may not like Damian’s answer, but she’s not going to let that change her course.
“May we leave now?” She directs the question to Hale, not his father.
Hale’s lips twitch, and I see a flash of pride in his eyes too. Grace hasn’t been in our world for over six years, but she’s a fucking natural at the politics of power. In a subtle way, she just showed Damian that she’s looking to his son for guidance through all of this, that she’ll defer to Hale’s judgement, not Damian’s.
“Yeah. We’re good.”
“I look forward to seeing you again, Grace,” Damian says as a parting word.
Hale gestures the way out, and as we make our way back down the hall, something lightens in my chest.
I was worried for Grace when we brought her into this meeting, but to be honest, I was selfishly worried for myself too. For my brother. For Hale and Ciro. We’ve become so fucking attached to the woman with the gorgeous hazel eyes and honey-blonde hair that I don’t think any of us would have coped well with her loss.
Still, as relieved as I am about this outcome, I know she’s not happy about it. And how can she be? She’s not our guest, free to come and go as she pleases. As long as she’s in our home, she’ll be there because she has to be, not by choice.
I glance over at her by my side, giving her a reassuring smile that she can’t see.
I promise I’ll make things better, Grace, I vow silently. I promise I’ll fucking fix this.
Because as much as I want this beautiful, fierce woman in our lives, I want her there by choice.
I want her to choose us.
5
Grace
Blood rushes in my ears like a roar.
The men usher me out of the building, retracing the path we took to reach Damian’s office. We’re walking down the same hallways we traversed not that long ago, but somehow, everything and nothing has changed.
I may no longer be considered a prisoner. But under the protection of Hale and his friends, I’m still a captive.
I know I shouldn’t have expected to be let free after meeting with Damian, but a foolish part of me hoped for it. Zaid said something in the kitchen the night Brian was killed that made me think he and Lucas would look the other way if I tried to run again—that they’d let me go if that’s what I wanted. But I couldn’t accept the opening they gave me, because it could’ve gotten them killed.
And it probably would’ve gotten me killed too, in the end. I’ve seen firsthand the lengths Damian will go to, how determined he can be in the pursuit of someone who’s betrayed him. If I ran, I’d never be safe.
Not even witness protection would prevent him from finding me. Though Damian may be willing to accept—for now—that I had nothing to do with my father’s actions, I still know too much about his organization to ever be released into “normal” life, completely free of their watch.
For the rest of my life, I’ll be tied to the Novak Syndicate.
As I slide into the back seat of the car between Lucas and Zaid, the smallest flicker of relief washes through me. Did I even want a different outcome?
As ashamed as I am to even think about it, I don’t know if I truly wanted to leave. How would I have reacted if Damian tried to put me under the protection and control of someone else, rather than Hale and his friends?
How would I have moved on if I had been set free?
I expect Hale to get in behind the wheel, but instead, Ciro takes the driver’s seat. Hale doesn’t even get into the car.
“You’re not coming with us?” I ask.
“I have business with my father. I’ll see you back at the house.”
He taps the top of the car once, then steps back as Zaid rolls up the window. As Ciro pulls out of the alleyway, we leave Hale behind in the darkness, consumed by fog and shadows.
The drive through Chicago’s lamp-lit streets seems different somehow, even though I try to remind myself that nothing much has changed in the wake of Damian’s verdict. I’ll continue living with the four men, just like I have been. On the surface, my situation now is exactly the same as it was this morning.
But it feels so much different.
Because now it’s permanent.
“You know,” Zaid says slowly, glancing down at me. I know he can sense my change in mood, and he’s just trying to lighten things up. But honestly, I’m too tired for any of it. I don’t want to be cheered up. I want my warm bed back at home. Sleep. Oblivion. “Maybe this will just be like old times.”
I jerk my gaze toward his, catching a smirk on his lips.
“Remember that time Camilla and Samuel had to go out of town and you stayed with us?” Lucas says, drawing my attention. “The one where we—“
“Gave drugs to a minor?” I interrupt, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah, I remember that time.”
Despite the heaviness in my stomach, a small smile creeps across my face at the memory. My dad and mom had left town on mafia business, and somehow it was arranged that I would stay with the Novak family for the weekend.
I had wanted to go with my parents so badly. They were headed to New
York, and I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t allowed to go. So the twins ended up showing up at Hale’s house with Ciro, determined to cheer me up.
With a joint.
“You got so fucking high,” Zaid says, body brushing against mine as he chuckles.
“Yeah, because I was like, fourteen!” My cheeks heat at the memory of that night. I haven’t thought about it in a long time. “I’d never smoked before. I had no idea it would hit me so hard.”
“Neither did we.” Lucas grins. “We took care of you though, didn’t we? And you had fun?”
“Yes,” I admit grudgingly, my lips curving up a little more. “And… yes.”
At that age, I was too young to really question the feelings I had for the guys. I craved their attention, even then, but it hadn’t turned into something stronger, more visceral. It was just fun to be the center of four guys’ attention in a big-ass house. The twins always loved to have a good time, and that was back before Ciro became closed-off and passive.
“You were goofy as fuck,” Lucas says. “I don’t think I’d ever seen you so excited. You were in love with life and amazed by the world.”
“Yeah.” I swallow as memories of that night clash with my new reality. It’s hard to reconcile the two. “That was before I found out how awful the world can be.”
Lucas’s smile dims, and on my other side, Zaid frowns. I know I’ve brought down the mood just when it was finally beginning to lighten, and I almost feel guilty for the pain I see in Zaid’s eyes.
Silence fills the car as the neighborhood comes into view, and visions of that old freedom escape me, replaced by visions of my future. Not even reminiscing about old times is going to change the facts, the truth.
I’m still their captive. This house is still a prison.
“This doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It doesn’t have to be that way,” Zaid murmurs as if reading my mind. “In a technical sense, in Damian’s books, yes. But not to us, Grace. You’re not a prisoner to us.”
