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I had a feelin in the pit of my stomach that his journey would be the one that pushed all of us to the breaking point, and exposed everything.
We would win the war, but there was no guarantee we would all be amongst the living when it was over.
Bonus Epilogue
ROMERO
I had an empire.
I had my own personal hell right outside my door.
I had an army at my beck and call ready to annihilate anyone who fucked with me.
I had two brothers, a family that would do anything for me.
None of that shit mattered. It couldn’t touch what was right in front of me. My beautiful, dark fucking queen was the best thing that ever happened to me. In her arms was my best motherfucking achievement.
Adelaide Deville came into this world six days early, on the sixth day of May, at six sixteen in the morning. Her hair was dark blonde, her eyes still newborn blue. She was quiet and calculating, already as beautiful as her mother and as lethal as her father.
There may have been an accident where the doctor ended up dead, but Uncle Cobra and a nurse got her out just fine while Arlen stood by as doula.
It was almost as if she was aware we were a week away from going to war, and needed to be present right fucking now.
Cali knew I was standing in the doorway, just watching the two of them, probably thinking I was there to collect my extra limb. She’d just finished feeding, now fast asleep on her chest.
Her hypnotic blue eyes met mine, and she smiled.
She still looked at me like I was the only man in the fucking universe, and she was still everything to me.
“You know you got this,” she said as I finally approached our bed.
“No, Pixie, we got this.”
Bloodshed is what we did, but she was right.
No one came to the devil’s playground and beat him at his own game.
Prelude
“Fléctere si néqueo súperos Acheronta movebo”
My world is cruel, merciless, and full of despair.
There are no superheroes, knights in shining armor, or handsome princes to save damsels in distress.
It’s kill or be killed.
Man eats man.
Survival of the sickest.
Cannibals, gangs, and hedonistic warfare are what thrive in the Badlands.
I once fought every day to be an exception.
I had crippled wings and a splintered halo. My soul had turned a little blacker than I’d like to admit, but my heart was still solid gold.
I did my best to stay on a moral high-ground.
