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Chapter 25
Philippe
I shouldn’t be fucking surprised that Greta and whoever the hell works for her would choose this day of all days to cause trouble in my city. She probably assumes that I will be so busy with the wedding that I won’t be around to fuck her up for this. Because while I have men to do some of my dirty work, this is a problem that requires me directly. Drugs in my city - hell no that’s not happening. I have worked hard to keep narcotics at bay so that the most vulnerable of the population won’t become even more so, not to mention the kind of crimes that tend to come along with the use of heavy drugs. Stealing money to keep paying for them or the things people do while high. I am not putting up with that shit. But I have my bride waiting for me, and I don’t want to leave her without a wedding.
I know Carla, and I would lose her forever if I stood her up. But my first duty is to this city - the one that I call home and watch over for the Clans. This marriage means little if I let Munich go to hell.
I look out the window and then back at Luna, a million curses going through my head as I know what I am going to have to do. I can be late. I can’t miss my wedding day, but I can afford to be a little late. I don’t think Carla is an exception to the rule that brides tend to be fashionably late anyway. It will give her longer to get ready without guests getting antsy that I am there, and she is not. Hopefully, I can snuff this out and get to the church in no time. "Okay, we are going to have to deal with this. I want to drop you off at my place first since we are closer. You do not need to be involved while pregnant, and I will need to get back up," I tell her. She looks down at her swollen belly and nods, gulping nervously.
The two of us have not connected in any way since me finding out she is pregnant with a child she claims is mine, and I start to feel bad for it. I am sure that this all affects her in some way. I don’t want to marry her or be with her romantically, but I am sure it is hard to think of having a baby with someone who is getting married to a woman from a powerful family while being kept at a distance. Carla’s attitude can’t help either, though part of me knows she has every right to be angry. Her temper is just a little dangerous.
"Thank you for your help," I tell her, and she looks up at me and flashes a smile. It feels uncomfortable but I feel I have done my good deed today. Maybe karma will be on my side in case of a shootout with this Czechoslovakian bitch and her dealers.
We drive up to the house on my orders, and I help Luna into the house quickly, in case anyone is watching us or going to make sure that I can’t take care of this problem. When you’re a mafia Clan leader, you learn to be paranoid about anything and everything.
I make sure to get her settled with everything she needs before I go to my security team and let them know what's happening, that I need as many as possible with me and just a couple to stay behind and make sure Luna and the baby are safe. Though, I doubt once I am out and headed for downtown that anyone will try to attack my house. It wouldn’t do them any good. These people go after blood, not money, even if it seems to be about money on the surface.
My men take off in several cars while another waits outside. I tell two of my men to just check in on Luna every once in a while and keep a lookout outside before going and grabbing more bullets and another Glock out of my stash. I get the feeling I am going to need it. But as I turn on my heel to leave the confines of my closet, I see Luna standing right in front of me, much too close, a large vase in her hand. That is the last thing I know before a shattering sound leads to my vision going black.
***
I wake up on the floor with a bad headache almost like a hangover, but it’s sharper than that. My hand flies to my head, and I gasp at the feeling of the lump that's there, likely from whatever the hell was used to knock me out.
Apparently, I have been paranoid about the wrong things. I hope that I am wrong, though, as I think of other possibilities. I have heard of women getting pregnant and the hormones making them crazy especially if they already have underlying conditions. If that’s the case, the baby could be in danger. But there is a part of me that thinks back to Carla’s dislike of her and her prompting for me to force Luna to get a paternity test done. Plus, the fact that I don’t even remember having sex with her, so even if it happened, I clearly could not have consented in my drunken state. I have just been blinded by the fact that I want to be a good man and do right by my child and the mother who is seeing to it that the child makes it into this world safely.
I force myself off the floor and lean against the wall to get my bearings. I probably have a concussion. It wouldn’t be the first one, but I know it can make me disoriented and in a lot of pain for doing anything. And the drug threat could still be real, not to mention my wedding. I need to be able to make it out of here.
I slowly make my way to the bedroom door and find it closed but not locked. Hopefully, I was knocked out to slow me down and not so much to keep me hostage. I feel for the gun I had picked up and the bullets to find they are gone, but when I follow my pant leg down, the one I have hidden there from before is still there. It is small and only has one round of bullets, but it could be enough to get me out of a sticky situation.
I go slowly, looking every which way as I make my way through my own house, suddenly feeling like it is Halloween and I am expecting ghosts and goblins to step out and scream at me. I have never thought I would be a hostage or attacked in my own house. It has happened to a few Clan members before, but nothing here in Munich. I have been relatively lucky when it comes to my safety, or maybe I am just that fucking good at keeping things under lock here. Now, whatever Luna is up to is ruining that spotless record for me.
I make it to the front door without incident, which also worries me about the state of the guards I had left to take care of Luna or the car that is waiting for me outside. Is it even waiting anymore? I have no way of knowing how long it has been since I was knocked out. I paid no attention to a clock when we got back here and do not intend on straining my painful vision to find out what time it is now. I just need to get to the church and get married. Then, I can worry about the rest. I never should have been so hyped up about the drugs. I can go after Greta and sweep the streets clean after I say I do.
I wiggle the handle to get out and notice that I have been locked out. A new handle sits on the door. How did Luna have enough time and know-how to change the locks like this? And the key lock is on the inside, so I can’t go anywhere. Not unless I can climb out a window and survive the drop, which I am not risking with my head in this shape. I am better off busting through the door.
Feeling for my hidden gun again, I pull it out, glad that I have been a little cocky, to the point I have never put in bulletproof doors and locks. I have to pray there are enough bullets to either blow out the lock or blow a hole through the door so as to ruin the integrity.
I begin to shoot, each bang ripping through my skull with an excruciating pain.
