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“I want him.” I need to steal the breath from him, to snatch it, to torture him and give him pain just like he inflicted on her. “It should be me.”
“Ren, what’s more important? Revenge and pride or Lilly?”
“It’s nothing to do with pride. I should be the one to squash that piss ant.”
Dante nods, “Yeah, maybe. But what’s the point. You will put a target on our backs, on Lilly’s back.”
“I say we take him to the yard.” Tommy lifts his chin, casting his vote.
“Yeah, let’s go pick him up, huh?” Dante shakes his head. “That fucker has at least five men around him at all times, all carrying.”
“We’ll take them all out.”
They continue their bickering, and even though I scream inside to do as Tommy says, what point would all this be if I can’t give Lilly a better life? If we handle this ourselves then the war with their family would only just begin and could last for years.
“Enough.” I stand from the desk and get both of their attention. “We use the club. But if he moves against our family in the next couple of days, all bets are off. He. Is. Mine.”
I spent the rest of the day away from Lilly. My mood was dangerous, and I’ve had to put on the mask of the cold-hearted leader of the family. Even just hearing her voice pokes cracks in my armour. She isn’t quickly becoming my greatest weakness, she already is.
The house is a fort, and we’ve set up a command centre out of it. We’ve been in this position a handful of times, but this is the first under my post. Tensions are high, but luckily all the men are on board. Not just my close team, but all under that follow.
Night has fallen, and I need to leave the monster that’s been living inside me all day, because I have other plans for tonight.
First, I have to find her.
It doesn’t take very long; Lilly’s laughter is bright, and it lifts my mood instantly when I hear it coming from the direction of her bedroom.
“No, no, no.” Her voice is clearer as I approach. “What are we? In a back alley on Oxford Street. Why would we ever have graffiti?”
“It’s hip?” I hear Winston’s voice answer.
“Hip? Hip? What the hell is hip?”
When I get to the door, I lean up against the frame and watch her sprawled out on the bed with the laptop open, on a video call with Winston.
“They’re not paying a fortune for hip!” She slaps her hand over her face, dramatically.
“What you’re talking about is going to cost a fortune. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Exactly. It’s exclusive. One of a kind. The screens around the pod will be able to change colours, or go sheer, or blacked out for a bit of fun times. Wink wink.”
“I can see you. You don’t need to say wink wink as well.”
“Probably. But you used the word hip with a straight face, so it sounds like I needed to spell it out for you.”
I laugh, and just like that, the troubles fall away and I’m back. Her head turns to me, and her smile brightens the dark day.
“The boss just walked in, should I ask him if he wants his club to be hip?” she says turning back to him and using air quotes to make her point.
“No, but should I tell him how much all this is gonna co–”
“Aahh…clink, clack.” She makes static hissing noises. “I’m going under a tunnel. You’re dropping out.”
She closes the laptop and turns to me smiling.
“Ignore everything he just said. It was a bad line.” She hops off the bed, walking over to me.
My smile has only gotten wider. “Ah huh.”
