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“Geo, my boy, you would let Connor kill your own father?” he asks, knowing full well that Geo hasn’t been his son for a very long time. “You would be so disloyal?”
“He made a promise to only shoot if shot at,” Geo says, stepping into the room.
Antonio straightens, his grip on the handle of his gun tightening. He nods, as if there’s an understanding between us. He thinks as long as he does nothing, then I can do nothing.
“But I made no such promise.” Geo lifts his arm, never faltering as he aims. “Go to hell.”
He pulls the trigger, and the air is split with a loud bang, blood splattering against the back wall. Antonio gurgles and falls, bathing us in silence.
* * *
The warehousein the back of the compound is crawling with people. The divide between those who were kept here and those who are here to help is clear. The victims are dirty, unkempt, and they all have dead eyes. Most of them aren’t even responding to any questions, but their flinches tell us enough. They have seen more shit than any person should have to. They have endured feeling like animals at the hands of their captors. And it strengthens my initial decision to murder everyone involved. Human justice would have been too good for them. They deserve to suffer for the rest of eternity.
I watch Wryn wrap blankets around hunched forms as Arie gently settles water bottles in hands. Ginny is on her knees, clasping hands and speaking earnestly. I notice that not a single man intervenes or tries to help. I step forward to do so, and I’m halted with a strong hand to the chest.
“Men aren’t allowed.” Geo’s voice stops me. “I’ve already tried.”
I nod, and together, we watch our women care for those hurt by our families. A stark pang of regret for what I allowed to go on for far too long shoots through me, and I rub my chest to dull it. We have a lot to fix, but this is the first step. And I’m proud to be on the right side for once. I’m thankful to have Wryn and my sister back and Geo by my side.
I know there is so much more to figure out. Joey is still a loose end, but we haven’t seen him. He wasn’t with his father today and has been absent from everything. No one has heard from Francesca, and I fear the worst for her. And there’s been rumblings of a new Leoni boss, though a name hasn’t reached my ears.
But in my little corner of the world, things are coming together. The five families can hopefully exist now without the black mark of trafficking against us. I would never give it all up, but I won’t stand for that injustice. We’ve paved a new way for ourselves. We will be stronger for it. I’ll make sure of it.
* * *
Wryn
“Little Bird.” Connor’s voice envelops me, his arms doing the same to my body as he presses himself to my back. His breath tickles my ear, and then his teeth follow, nipping at the sensitive skin.
Goose bumps scatter across my body as I move to wrap my hands around his. I stare at him in the bathroom mirror, where I was attempting to do my makeup, and then press my ass back against his hardening length.
“I had a different plan when I came in here,” he says with a long groan at the pressure. “But you look like this, and now …” He trails off, backing up and turning me, his eyes raking over my thin sleep set, which leaves little to the imagination.
“What was your plan?” I place my hands on his chest, massaging his nipples through the material of his dress shirt. The thin cotton is soft under my palms, and I grin up at him mischievously.
I trail down his abdomen until my fingertips hook his belt, pulling slightly. His hands grip my hips, fingertips digging into my skin underneath the silk, as he lets out a sigh.
“Stop distracting me,” he growls, bending to place his forehead against mine.
“I have no such plans,” I say, and he chuckles.
“Get dressed, or don’t. Meet me downstairs.” He backs away before biting his knuckles as he takes another long look. Then, he’s gone.
I turn and smile at my reflection, flushed cheeks greeting me. I make quick work of getting ready, and then I gasp in shock as I step into my and Connor’s room.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Brigette says as I press a hand to my chest. She’s placed a suitcase on our bed, and she’s pulling clothing from the closet to fold and place inside. “There’s a dress hanging on the armoire. He said you were to wear that.” She points at the garment, and I study it.
“Bossy man,” I whisper to myself as I walk up to the slinky light-lavender dress.
It has thin spaghetti straps and a scooped neckline, the fabric loose and draping over the chest area. As I unzip it and then take it from the hanger to slip it up over my hips, the cloth molds to my skin as if it was made for me. It probably was. The light color complements my dark hair, and I study myself in the floor-length mirror.
I have no idea what he has planned for me. Brigette places jewel-encrusted stilettos in front of me, and I take one look and giggle at putting them on. He must have lost his mind if he thinks I’ll be able to walk in those death traps. They are gorgeous though. I loop my fingers under the toes and pick them up, murmuring thanks to Brigette as I pad from the room, barefoot, the dress swishing around my legs gently.
I slowly walk down the stairs, where Connor is waiting at the bottom. He turns to stare up at me, his eyes darkening in a promise of dirty things to come. He has donned a suit jacket, tailored to perfection, the charcoal material hugging his body, and I can’t wait to strip him out of it.
He watches me the entire time until I’m a step away from the bottom, and he halts me. His gaze finds mine, a serious glint overtaking him, and I wait as he slowly licks his lips.
“Wryn,” he says.
