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Your son made it home from school safely today. Your words right now will determine if he makes it through the night. Do not make us do this.


Pulling out my other phone, I dialed, waiting to be directed.


“Welcome to Melody’s Flowers…”


“Two dozen of Autumn crocus for the Boss.”


“Please hold.”


It took only a second before I heard his voice.


“Callahan.”


“It’s done. She recanted.”


“Good work. Sit on her, make sure she doesn’t try again.”


“Done.”


MELODY


“It’s been handled,” Liam stated, finally bringing his sorry ass into the room. He’d left hours ago with my damn cell phone.


“Well, aren’t you feeling yourself,” I sneered, not bothering to look at him as I stepped into my shoes. Adriana waited with my jacket.


“Are you still hungry?”


I was prepared to beat the shit out of him, but it looked like someone had already started. “What the fuck happened to your face and hand?”


“Olivia.” He sighed, stepping over to me.


“Does she look worse?”


“She feels worse.”


“I don’t care how she feels, Liam.”


“I’ll get the car,” Adriana stated as she took her exit.


He pulled me closer to him and kissed my lips so hard I could feel the cut on the inside of his cheek and I could taste his blood.


Knock.


“Come back later,” Liam yelled.


But they didn’t listen. The door snapped open and a person I used to know as Declan stumbled in with the same white clothes, now covered in dirt, messy hair and bags under his red eyes.


“Jesus Christ, Declan.” Liam released me, walking to him just as Declan fell to his knees sobbing.


“Declan…”


“Coraline has ovarian cancer. She won’t speak to me. She won’t even move. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fight this. I don’t want to lose her…I…”


“Breathe, brother. Just breathe,” Liam whispered, as he knelt down to hold onto him.


Walking behind them both, I closed the door. This was personal. This was family, and no one else needed to see this.


Liam looked up at me as his brother, not cousin here, they were much closer then that. Declan just sobbed in his arms. His eyes asked me a question with an answer I hated: How do we fight cancer?


I knew all too well that sometimes you couldn’t. Cancer was a bitch that didn’t know when to die. Placing my hand on Declan’s head, I stood there. I wasn’t sure what else to do. Why was this all happening now? Why couldn’t we just deal with one fucking problem at a time?


Because this was real life.


TWENTY-FIVE


“My mother protected me from the world and my father threatened me with it.”


—Quentin Crisp


NEAL


There were very few things I hated more than meeting my father in his old study. It brought back all my moments of failure, stupidity, and unworthiness. My father’s study meant something different to the each of us. For Declan, every time he was brought here, it was because my father needed help wiring something on his computer. For Liam, it was the place they bonded; the place they sipped on brandy, talked business. For me, it was the place my father reminded me of what a giant fuck up I was.


I knew after the shit with Olivia that Liam wasn’t done spewing; I just thought he would be man enough to confront me himself instead of calling Sedric. It took all I had not to roll my eyes at the old man sitting behind the even older oak desk, surrounded by the oldest fucking books. It was like I was having a flashback to my youth.


“You wished to see me, father?” I asked, not bothering to sit down. We would be at each other’s throats in a moment.


Throwing his pen onto the table, he leaned back, and stared at me before folding his arms. “Do you know who I am?” he asked softly.


“Yes, sir.”


“Remind me.”


I hated these Yoda moments.


“Remind you of what, sir?”


I could see his teeth clench as he lifted his hands, gesturing to everything around us. “Tell me the story I told you as a boy, Neal. Tell me how I came to sit on this chair, in this house, with this family name.”


“You were only twenty-two at the time, studying at the Loyola University of Chicago, when grandfather called, and told you that it was time to take over the family. Your oldest brother had been gunned down, mother was pregnant, and gang affiliated crime was at an all time high.


“Every day, Chicago was bleeding under the hands of five kingpins. They were just waiting for the chance to kill each other. You didn’t have the manpower, money or clout to get anything done, but somehow you managed to find all five of them and burn their bodies, but not before decapitating them. At twenty-three, you took over Chicago in one night.” I recited like a well-memorized monologue.


He clapped, rising from his chair. “That was the story I told you as a proud father. I spared you the details, and thus this is my fault. I made it sound easy. I didn’t tell you about the bullets I took, all the ribs I’ve broken, or scars I have. And I sure as hell didn’t tell you how your mother laid on top of you in the bathtub as one hundred and seventy-two rounds shredded through our apartment. She took a bullet for you. When I got there, I sat you on my lap, pulled your mother to my chest and promised the both of you the world on a golden platter. I swore that neither of you would ever want for anything and that you would always be safe.”


“No, you didn’t tell me any of that.” And I wasn’t sure why he was telling me now.


“I didn’t think I had to.” His face remained emotionless. “After everything I did, not once have I ever gotten tied in with the police. In fact, I prefer my name to never drop off the tongue of a blue blood.”


“I know this.”


“Do you?” He stepped forward. “You know nothing, boy!”


And so we begin.


“I find out today that your wife was the reason behind one of our maids talking to the police.”


“It was a mistake.”


“It was a mistake?” he roared, grabbing the side of my face. “Marrying her, that was the mistake! I knew this. But I allowed it because I foolishly thought what harm could one dumb wench do to us. I thought my son would be smart enough to control his wife. Our wives are a reflection of ourselves, and you are failing me! You are failing your brother, and you are failing this family.”


I tried to pull away from him, but he just held on tighter, forcing me to meet his eyes.


“I gave up everything for this life, this family; everything. And you stand before me telling me it was a mistake? You are my blood, my first born, and I love you dearly, but I need your wife handled, or so help me God, I will take her head next.” He pushed me away, and turned back to his chair.


“You and your wife should go pack. The both of you will now join Senator Colemen’s bus tours. You will represent the Callahan family far away for now, until everything blows over.”


He couldn’t fucking be serious.


“Liam needs me, Declan’s a mess—”


“And yet, even as a mess, Declan is still more useful. Liam needed his brother, and once again you chose another side over blood.”

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