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I knew that stepping into this role would mean taking on more responsibility, I just didn’t anticipate I’d be juggling thesemany things at once. I like to think I'm pretty damn equipped at handling situations, but this, this is something else entirely.
The leader of our organization was murdered in a war with his brother, which resulted in his death, too. And if that weren’t enough, his brother was the rival head from the east coast syndicate. Leaving both coasts in shambles to pick up the pieces and scramble to find a foothold. His new predecessor used to be a runner for our organization, but after a faked death and secrets that continue to unravel, he found himself on the east coast, heir to a massive fortune and criminal empire. He’s inexperienced, unqualified, and in over his head.
Between that, the feuds with factions here, and the pressure from the north and the south sectors, there isn’t a direction that isn’t coming at me with their hand out or a gun pointed to try to push me out of my position.
The stakes have never been higher. Only, I’d be wrong if I thought things couldn’t possibly get worse.
“Someone on the inside must be tipping them off,” one of my men tell me.
I turn toward him. “What’s your name?”
He shifts his gaze to the guy next to him. “Uh, um.”
“You have to ask your friend for your name?” I slam my palm onto the table in front of him. “You have one second.”
“John, my name’s John, sir.”
“John.” I roll it around on my tongue. “How long have you worked for us,John?”
I’ve never seen his face prior to today. There’s no telling ifhe’sthe fucking rat.
“Six years, sir.”
“Hmm.” I take a step back and look him over.
Six years is a long time to commit to something, but that doesn’t equate to loyalty. He could have easily turned but stayed here to help whoever gain an upper hand. Or, I could just be fucking paranoid. It’s difficult to determine who to trust, and the constant issues that keep coming up have me questioning literally everyone except Hayes and Bryant. Hell, I put more trust in Simon fucking Beckett than I do any of these men sitting in front of me today.
“Where are we at with intel?” I ask the small group of men.
John clears his throat. “Sir, we’ve taken the biggest hit on the northwest quadrant. Followed by the southwest. If I had to guess—”
“Guess?” I crash both fists on the table.
He flinches but otherwise remains there.
“This is not a fucking guessing game,John.”
John lowers his gaze to the paperwork in front of him. “Sir, yes, sir.”
Bryant kicks off the wall and approaches, placing his hand on my back. “Clear the room, give us five,” he tells the men.
They quickly scurry out of the room like their fucking lives depended on it.
Once they’re gone, Bryant latches the door shut and sits on the edge of the table next to me. “What’s going on, dude? You’re about to blow a blood vessel.”
I run my hand over my beard and exhale. “This John guy, what’s your read on him?”
“Well, I’m pretty sure he was about to piss his pants.”
I clench my jaw and turn toward him. “Not fucking helpful, Bryant.”
Bryant throws his hands up and slaps them on his thighs. "He's just a guy, Dom. He's worked for us for a long time. No infractions. No reason to suspect him of treason. I didn't get a vibe, only that he's afraid of you." He scoots onto the tabletop. "Everyone is fucking afraid of you, Dom. You can't mistake that for disloyalty just because they tremble in your presence. Because if that were the case, we wouldn't have anyone left."
“We can’t keep taking these hits.”
“I know.”
“We have bigger problems to worry about.”
