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King keeps himself locked in the cabin doing God knows what, and when he’s not home, he’s at Sinners getting private shows and drinking himself to death in a private room.
Meanwhile, Eli is back to bending his assistant over his desk. I know this because I caught him once. I’d gone to see him at his office two weeks after the fire. I’d walked in without knocking, and he had Elena bent over his desk. He was thrusting into her with the most stoic expression I’d ever seen.
What the fuck is wrong with them? Tate existed, and we killed her. They set her death into motion, and now they’re living seemingly without a care.
We always vowed that nothing and no one would ever come between us, but that vow was broken the minute she came into our lives.
Back intomylife.
I always knew she would be capable of being our undoing, and I was right.
I stare at King, aware that my brows are pulled into a deep frown. There’s no reason for him to be here. There’s nothing he can do or say that will change the way I feel toward him. The resentment I feel can’t be undone.
“There’s been a fire.” Those four words were the last I expected to hear from him.
two
ELI
“At this time,the police do not have any suspects. They are asking for help from the community to identify those responsible for the fire at Luigi’s Pizza.” The newswoman’s voice fades into the background as I lower the volume of the television. I grip the remote so tightly my knuckles turn white, and I nearly crush it in my grip.
Luigi’s Pizza is the second Triad-owned business that has caught fire within the past two weeks. According to the news anchor, the police still have no suspects.
Someone is intentionally burning our businesses, and we still have no fucking idea who.
When I was notified of the first fire, I’d called King. We hadn’t spoken in weeks. He’d dragged Rowen out of that underground fight club where he likes to go to wallow in self-pity, and the three of us were quick to jump into action and step into business mode. It felt nice to come together again with my brothers. Terrible circumstances, but it felt comfortable having them by my side again.
We haven’t been the same since Tate died. With each passing day, I know that we’re drifting further and further apart, and we may never be who we once were.
I always knew she was capable of being our downfall, and look how fucking right I was. We’re not the same anymore because of her. We allowed pussy to weaken us, and we let a woman come between us. We all did.
Rowen and King both blame me, and that’s how I know how truly weak they are. But she’s dead, and I’m over it. I have to be. At least that’s what I tell myself.
One of us has to be strong and in control.
I wish they were able to get over it too.
Now that we’re at risk, our enemies are starting to creep into our city and put down roots. Word has spread quickly through the underworld about the Triad being vulnerable, and we’re proving them right by letting others set up shop within our city limits.
When the Westside Disciples were dealing in our city, we should’ve killed them to send a message instead of trying to make a deal. If we had, we wouldn’t be in this fucking situation right now.
We should’ve done what we did best and eliminated them. Instead, we devised a ridiculous plan to kidnap and trade Tate for them to leave the city. I knew that plan was stupid, and I should’ve stopped it. Especially once I realized that there was no way that Rowen would be able to let her go. Not again.
I should’ve known, and maybe if I had come up with a different plan, she’d still be alive. Maybe I’d have my brothers by my side again. I have regrets. Many, many regrets.
My anger is boiling as I throw the remote to the coffee table. The battery cover pops off, and the batteries spill out. I grab my phone and scroll through my contact list until I reach Detective Roberts’s cell number.
He answers on the first ring, and I interrupt before he has the chance to complete his opening. “Tell me you have some information.”
“Eli. I’m good, how are you? Would it kill you to try to make small talk?” He chuckles, probably thinking he’s the funniest fucking guy to exist,
“I don’t have time for small talk. Do you have any goddamn leads?” I growl. I’m losing my patience each day that goes by without any additional information.
Two weeks. Two fires. No fucking suspects.
“You’re a lot more unpleasant these days,” he mutters. “The answer is no. There are no leads on the fire at Luigi’s. We have no further information on the destruction at the warehouse or on the fire at that house.” The first fire was at a warehouse we own. Luckily, it was empty since we had just purchased it and hadn’t decided what to do with it yet.
“What about similarities between the three?”
