“Where’s he going to end up?” I ask. It’s not something I’ve ever wanted to know, but with this one, I need to.
“His bike’s already on its way to the chop shop. He’ll go into a fresh grave at the cemetery, covered with quicklime. The boys found one that looked only a few days old. They’re clearing the topsoil now while they wait for the body.”
That’s how it usually goes when the mob wants someone to vanish indefinitely. If they don’t leave the dead where they fall as a message, they hide them under a slab of concrete or slip them into someone else’s grave, forever swallowed up by the earth and forgotten.
It’s an old trick in our world—used for generations—because a fresh grave means no new dirt turned, no questions asked, and no one noticing a body that isn’t supposed to be there. It’s twisted, but it works.
Romeo and I dropped Emily’s pot plants at my place on the way home, a row of silent witnesses now sitting in my back yard, reminding me of the mess we just cleaned up. I’m not sure how I’m going to explain how her plants ended up here, but hopefully I’ll come up with something believablebefore I’m asked. Preferably something that doesn’t unravel the whole night.
Lucia is still awake when we arrive back at the house. I think she’s eager to find out how things went, but I won’t be telling her shit. Not even the kneecap I took out in her name. The less she knows, the better. Fewer details mean fewer chances something slips, which is why those damn plants are already stressing me the fuck out.
I don’t even know why I took them. That’s a lie, yes, I do. They mean something to her, and she’s already lost enough.
I trust Lucia completely, but trust doesn’t erase risk. Emily may have wanted out of her relationship with that guy, but I doubt she wanted him dead. No one needs the weight of our choices on their conscience.
“How’d it go?” Lucia asks, rubbing her small hands together.
“How’d what go?” Romeo counters, and I roll my lips to hide my grin. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Tight story, tighter mouths.
“Don’t play coy with me, De Luca.” Her comeback has me chuckling under my breath.
“We went for a drive. End of story.”
“Ugh. Liar.”
“Did Emily wake while we were gone?” I ask, stepping in before this turns into a fight I don’t have the patience for.
“No.”
“Do you mind if I have a shower here?”
“Of course not. Are you going to sleep in the room with Peach or Emily’s bed?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.
I grunt and turn towards the hallway. I’m not even going to entertain that question with an answer.
I grab clean clothes from my bag and slip into the bathroom, the door clicking softly behind me. The water’s cold at first, shocking me awake, so I turn up the heat and stepfully under the spray, letting it rain over me, washing off the grime, the sweat, and the remnants of what I’ve done.
My mind races, replaying every choice, every decision that led me here, and even in the quiet of the shower, I can’t shake the unease that comes with the unknown. Most of my childhood was spent never knowing what came next, and I carried that into adulthood.
Tomorrow’s a blank page. I don’t know what it’ll bring, but I hope, in some small way, it’s a fresh start for Emily.
Chapter 17
Emily
Iwake with a start, bathed in darkness. At first, I’m disoriented, unsure where I am. The soft, luxurious sheets surrounding me and the cloud-like mattress beneath are enough to tell me I’m not in my own bed.
I sit up and rub my hands over my eyes, wincing at the sting. Everything comes flooding back, replaying in my mind like a bad dream.
Mick losing his shit because I wouldn’t give him the little money I had.
The fight that followed.
Dominic showing up at the house unannounced and convincing me to leave with him.
Walking away from a life that felt unescapable.
The downside is I’m now homeless and broke. It feels like everything is spinning out of control. I can’t tell which way is forward. Mick isn’t going to let me leave him like this, and the thought makes bile rise in the back of my throat.
