Once the door shuts, Gracie turns to us. “Sorry about that. I forgot how they can be.”
I wave it off. “It’s fine, Ms. Hiroshi. I get it.”
She smiles. “Please don’t call me Ms. Hiroshi. That’s my mother, and trust me, she’s stuck up enough for both of us.”
Rosa steps forward and hugs her. “I’ve missed your sass.”
“You created my sass,” Gracie squeezes Rosa back. Once they break apart, Gracie’s expression turns thoughtful. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road. When Cyan called me to tell me he’s getting married, I wondered about you.”
“Don’t be concerned. Cyan is intelligent, unlike my other son,” Rosa says with a tinge of sadness. “Whom we shall not name. The fool responsible for your pulling back from the family.”
Gracie’s easy smile falters, the sadness flashing across her face.Thomas.She was with him before he married Lucilla. Beyond the pink hair, Gracie and Lucilla look so similar it’s undeniable. Thomas definitely has a type. But Gracie doesn’t let the emotion linger. She takes a deep breath, straightens, and smiles tightly.
“This isn’t the place, Rosa. My goal today is to give Aria the dress of her dreams.”
The memory sneaks in unbidden of my father walking me down the aisle, I squeeze my eyes close.Damn it. Not today.Opening my lids, I muster a smile and turn to Gracie. “Let’s try on some dresses,” I say, even as my heart aches.
“That’s the plan. But first, your groom sent a surprise for you.” The door swings open, and Johnny and Gabriel return, dragging in a flatscreen that resembles a person-sized touchscreen cellphone. Jake sets it up, his fingers moving efficiently over the controls.
Curious, I tilt my head. “What is this?”
Jake presses a few buttons, and the screen flickers to life. Three familiar faces appear. Nonna’s face fills it, with her vacant eyes and familiar lines. Next to her sits Dr. Saaha, dressed in a yellow sari, her long braid draped over her right shoulder. Pauline sits beside her, arm on her lap, presence serene, with her expression thoughtful.
The dam breaks. Full, uncontrollable sobs escaping, because joy without my family takes courage, and today, courage hurts.
Forty-Six
“To lead the wolves, you don’t just bare your teeth. You show them blood.”–Cyan MacBrady.
The chime on my phone signals a new message. Even mid-mission, I pull it out. Johnny’s words flash on the screen.Aria loved her surprise. A rare smile tugs at my lips.
“Do you think it’s wise to let her come to New York, given what’s about to go down?” Collin asks. From my expression alone, he knows who that text was about.
I understand the concern. Lorenzo’s gone underground, and technically, New York is still his.
“It’s safe,” I say, my voice sharpening as I slide my phone into my pocket. “I sent three of the Ten and a dozen men. She’s protected.”
Collin narrows his eyes. “Safe?” His brow furrows. “We still don’t know who from our syndicate met Leo.” I don’t answer.
The elevator slows as we near the top. Collin’s body tightens beside me, coiled and ready. My instinct, sharp as broken glass, scrapes through my thoughts. Can I still trust my men? Ping! The door opens. Collin whips out two blades without hesitation. Five lethal seconds later, both guards collapse, gurgling for air.
I step forward. The monster inside me rises, pleased. “Col, let’s make it rain red.” These old bastards cling to their rusted thrones like relics from another era. Giuseppe, Capo of Illinois, Lorenzo’s loyal consigliere, still thinks it’s the 1980s–blind to the cracks splitting the foundation beneath him. He called this meeting to cling to power.Fool.
Sebastian whistles. “You always take the fun out of these types of parties, Col.” He stands at the open stairwell. Troy and Thomas don’t speak; they drag the bodies out of sight and take their positions.
Collin and I move. The M134 is already in my hands. He slips out another pair of knives as the lads prepare to fling open the double doors ahead of us.
“Oi, fine day to you all, gentlemen,” I announce as we step inside. Every Capo and underboss turns. They’re unarmed thanks to Giuseppe’s precious rule: no weapons. His second mistake. “Seems my invite to this illustrious shindig got lost in the mail,” my tone smooth as a razor under velvet. “Wouldn’t you agree, Giuseppe?”
“You bastard spawn of an Italian whore,” he spits, the fat fuck lunging for his gun. He’s too slow. Collin’s blade sinks into his forearm. Giuseppe screams. “Ahh! Motherfucker! Tommaso, do something!” He turns to his underboss. Tommaso leans against the far wall, unmoved, his gaze locked on Giuseppe, burning, merciless.
The bastard assaulted his sister last year. That sin bought me his loyalty. Realizing no one is coming to save him, Giuseppe tries to retreat, but Collin’s next blade pins his arm to the table. I hand Collin the M134 and take his machete. Giuseppe’s eyes widen.
“Let me lay this down for you lads,” I say. “Disrespect my mam again…” I Step toward the bleeding relic.
“Kill him!” Giuseppe screams with a frantic glance at the others. No one moves. “You’re a mistake that should’ve been drowned at birth! Lorenzo will gut you like the bastard you are!”
I raise my hand. Next, the blade slices through his trapped arm, clean. Blood explodes across polished mahogany.
