“We have a funeral every single day this week. Everyone knows what’s happened here, so we’re in a position of weakness. And we still have to keep up with the business. A lot of shit has happened throughout the years, but never something like this.”
“True.” War had never come to our doorstep.
“Wolfe annihilated everyone who was a part of that job, and all those who were in business with the Lombardis have divested themselves of the association, so even though we took a major hit, Wolfe reclaimed our status among the other gangs.” He gave a slight shake of his head before he dragged his hand over the bottom part of his mouth. “Everything will be alright—but I’m not alright right now.”
I stepped out of the main doors of the house and onto the stairs, and I found my brother standing at the bottom, a cigar in his mouth.
“How is he?” he asked, leaning against the stone banister with one hand in his pocket.
All I did was shake my head.
He released the smoke from his mouth and gave a sigh. “Never seen him like this.”
“I get it,” I said. “Did we ever figure out who the traitor is?”
“No. None of the soldiers knew who it was. They might be dead…or might still be alive.”
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out eventually.” And by we, I meant Wolfe.
“I’m not so sure. Wolfe killed everyone who knew who he was, so…”
I heard the distinct beep of a tractor in reverse and looked across the clearing between the buildings to the oak tree in the distance. Wolfe had told me not to look at whatever was over there, and as soon as my eyes shifted in that direction, they looked away again and focused on something else.
Roman appeared at the top of the stairs behind me. “Leo, Don wants to see you.”
Leo pulled his cigar out of his mouth then waggled his eyebrows at me. “Wish me luck.”
I gave him a little nudge in the arm when he passed me. My eyes immediately shifted to the tractor working the dirt in the distance again, but thankfully, there wasn’t much to see anymore. Whatever had been there had mostly been cleaned up. But then I felt that stare against my flesh, felt that heated blaze that could puncture holes in my bones.
I turned back toward the stairs and felt the origin of that stare from the terrace. My eyes found his, dark like the earth after a heavy rain. My entire body paused—my heart, my lungs, everything, just went silent.
He stared at me like I was his, just in case I’d somehow forgotten.
Then the pause ended and life continued.
He reached the stairs then came down to join me. Wolfe wore a charcoal-gray t-shirt and black jeans, his dark ink acting like literal sleeves that completed his shirt. He moved to the other banister, keeping several feet between us, a distance that we never shared when we were alone together.
He stared at me.
I stared back, my nerves in a tight bunch.
He continued to look at me like we were in the middle of a conversation that I’d missed.
“Why are you staring at me like that?—”
“Did you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
He didn’t move or flinch, but somehow, he made his inferno of rage known.
I quickly realized my error. “He’s just not in the right place right now, Wolfe.”
He didn’t blink. Hadn’t blinked since he’d joined me. And all that anger surged in his enormous muscles.
“He has a funeral every day this week. You know it’s not the right time.”
He worked his jaw slightly, eyes mad as hell.
