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Chapter Nine
JULIAN
“Hmm . . . What is it?” I ask groggily into the phone. It’s a Sunday and Sundays are days designed specifically for a lay-in. With my hectic office schedule, and Family business keeping me occupied all hours of the day, I try to carve out a little bit of time every Sunday morning to stay in bed for just a little longer. I’d spent a fortune redecorating my bedroom last year, making it into a quiet space to unwind and yet I felt like I rarely got to spend time in my own bed.
A quick glance and my alarm clock tells me that it’s 8:30 a.m. and I can barely keep my eyes open as the voice on the other end of the line tells me my presence is required downtown, in the Church Quarter. Sitting up, I swipe a hand over my face, trying to wake up and process the information coming at me.
An attack.
St Mary’s.
Church Quarter.
Death.
So much pointless death.
When it finally sinks in, that an attack has been launched on one of our churches, I jump out of bed. Grabbing clothes from my walk-in wardrobe, I hastily throw them on, not bothering with a tie but taking time to brush my teeth and comb my hair. I was still a Family representative, and I still needed to present the right image even in the face of a crisis. A knock on my bedroom door tells me that Creed has arrived, and so taking the stairs two at a time, I head downstairs.
The Family has several churches that are frequented by members of the organization throughout Newtown but St Mary’s was one of the largest. A design quirk of the city, or poor planning on the city’s part, means that there’s an area downtown not far from the docks where there are multiple churches built only streets apart, earning it the name ‘The Church Quarter’. These churches aren’t all ours, but it’s where St Mary’s sits and it’s supposed to be neutral ground where people can pray and pay their respects but this…this is a violation of everything.
It’s been eight days since I last saw Rosie Gambino. Eight long days and while I’ve been thinking of her, imagining her naked in my bed, remembering how she tastes, how she feels in my arms, she’s been plotting. Planning how she’s going to steal my kingdom out from underneath me, but this is a new low. Even for the Queen of Hearts.
We arrive at the church as the fire service extinguishes the last of the flames, the police cordoning off the immediate area as a small gathering of spectators watch. A news van pulls up, but the police keep them as far away from the scene as they can.
My heart aches at the blackened remains of the structure. Whatever remains of the shell crumbles and collapses in on itself under the weight of the water from the hose and a part of me shrivels up inside too.
There is no way survivors will be found.
There’s nothing left.
One of the firemen speculates that this was a terrorist attack as it was definitely arson, but I know better. There’s only one person in the world with this much hatred in their heart, and I’ve known it all along. I could have stopped this. I should have stopped this. These deaths were my fault, and once again I’m drowning in guilt.
I’m barely listening as the fire chief, who’s one of us, explains that it appears the congregation were barricaded inside while gasoline was poured on the exits and set alight. Add in a few strategically placed flammables and the whole thing went up like a tinderbox. It would have been too fast to stop, especially on a sleepy Sunday morning when no one was expecting it. It wasn’t just a mockery of the sanctity of the church and The Family, it was down-right cruel. Those people, my people, suffered for some petty games manipulated by a pretty blonde with a vendetta.
I thank him and his men for their work as he returns to shift through the rubble. I stand in silence, watching as they drag charred and unrecognizable bodies from the remains.
“Julian…” Elijah growls beside me. I can feel the anger radiating off him as we watch on the sidelines. My phone has constantly been ringing and I’d already called Daniel into the office to field calls. People were outraged. They were hurting and they wanted someone to be held accountable.
The Sunday school hadn’t been spared either. Children were not part of this war and yet Rosalyn Gambino had gone after them like the bloodthirsty bitch she is. I had been deluding myself when I thought I knew Rosalyn, she told me she was poisonous. She was the Queen of Hearts, a crown she wore proudly, so why hadn’t I listened?
“Jules,” Eli growls again, and I can feel the sob he’s holding back as we see them bringing out bodies too small to be adults.
“I know.”
He hisses, “She has to pay.”
“I know!” I snap. Rosalyn has crossed a line and some things can’t be taken back. I should know.
Antonio Bruno, my Consigliere, walks towards us. He’s an older man in his early sixties, with greying hair and dark eyes. He’s wearing a navy peacoat, a yellow scarf and a grey hat that he tips towards us as a sign of respect as he walks past and to his car. He was a friend of my father, and a staunch traditionalist but he was also my advisor, a role he took very seriously. My temples throb, warning of an impending headache. I knew I’d be hearing from him later regarding this situation and how he thought we should handle it.
Lawrence, one of my Captains, is close behind him. His dark inky black hair was slicked back and greying at the temples, his forehead heavily lined and pinched into a frown as he spotted Elijah and I. He had also been a friend of my father while he was still alive, and I wasn’t under any illusions that Lawrence or Antonio particularly liked me or thought me capable, however they did have respect for hierarchy and convention, which worked in my favor. Most of the time.
“Julian, Creed,” Lawrence intones as he glares at us. He has to look up at Elijah and I since he’s barely five-foot-seven, something that seems to rankle him every time we talk like this. “I don’t need to tell you this is unacceptable.”
“Of course not, Lawrence.” Eli bows his head, hoping his submission would defuse Lawrence’s temper, but the shorter man balls his fists, features twisted with rage.
Jabbing a fat, pudgy finger into my shoulder, he gets close enough that I can smell stale cigarettes on his breath as he hisses into my face. “When I get my hands on that little bitch, I will make her pay for this. She will bleed. Her screams will be my new ringtone. I will fuck my wife to the sounds of her begging me for mercy. Do you understand?”
Without thinking, my hand darts out, and I grab the lapels of his coat. Lawrence was a sick son-of-a-bitch, who liked to torture people for fun. The things I’d heard of him doing with hot irons and fire pokers made my skin crawl, and the only reason I kept him as a Captain was the loyalty he’d shown over the years to Belcastro and my father.
Yanking him to my chest, forcing him almost onto his tiptoes, I lean in and growl. “If you don’t keep your hands off my…Rosalyn, there’s going to be a problem. She is my issue, and it is my job as the head of this Family to punish her. Not yours.”
Lawrence sputters, and if looks could kill I would be withering up in painful agony right about now. Sliding an arm between us, Eli puts some distance between me and Lawrence. He helps Lawrence smooth down his coat and we watch as the older man turns away in disgust.
“Oh, Lawrence,” Eli calls, and we both give him hard stares. He sneers back at us, his bravery returning now that he was out of arm’s reach. Tucking his jacket back so that his gun and hunting knife are exposed, Eli sucks his teeth, making a dismissive noise. “If you lay a finger on her without Julian’s permission, I will remove all ten digits and shove them up your ass. Do you understand?”
Lawrence snorts, “Your little attack dog won’t always be able to fight your battles Julian, you need to put this Family first. Are you strong enough for that?”
My cool facade back in place, I look down my nose at him as he climbs into his car and drives off. It seemed that if I wanted to keep a handle on the reins of my Family, I would need to capture a particularly stubborn filly and break her into a million pieces, so that she never rose again. I clench my fists, Eli and the other Family members weren’t the only ones angry at this blatant and disgusting attack. An institution under the protection of The Family lies before me, nothing more than cinders and ash and I’d just defended the person responsible.
“What the fuck was that, man?” Eli whispers as we walk back towards where we’d parked. Glancing down at my phone, I wince, seeing twenty-nine missed calls and thirty-six messages. Damage control and reassurances were desperately needed before I made my way home tonight, it was going to be a long day.
“I…don’t know.” Fuck knows why I’d stepped in to lay some weird claim on her. I was planning on punishing her too, so what did it matter who did it? Except…except it did.
“Your Rosalyn?” Eli narrows his eyes, his anger still simmering away, like the embers glowering in the rear-view mirror as we drive to my office building.
“Shut up.”
“Are you sure you can do what needs to be done?” Elijah and I share a look.
“Family first, Eli. Always.”
