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She came close to dying, honestly. Too fucking close. She was unarmed, staring down the barrel of that gun, and if we hadn’t gotten here when we did…
I shake my head, not wanting to finish that thought. I can’t focus on it, or I’ll lose every scrap of control I have.
Willow seems to be of the same mind, because she stiffens her shoulders and takes another deep breath. I can see the fear and worry edging out of her eyes, leaving behind conviction and determination. She’s gathering her strength, letting this incident firm her resolve against her grandmother instead of breaking her down.
That’s one of the things I love most about her.
Nothing can break this woman.
“Get his mask off,” Malice tells Ransom, gesturing to the body closest to our brother. They each take a body, tugging the masks off, and I release Willow so that I can reach down and do the same to the man leaking blood and brain matter into the carpet.
I have to maneuver the mask a little to get it off his mangled head, and as soon as I do, I let out a harsh breath.
Across the room, Ransom makes a noise of displeasure, and Malice explodes to his feet, hurling the mask in his hand against the wall.
“Ethan fucking Donovan!” he rages, kicking the body again.
I look from the man at my feet—whom I recognize as one of Donovan’s men—and look over to see the familiar face of Donovan himself. He’s the one sprawled out near Malice, and another one of his seconds lies near Ransom.
“Still in Olivia’s pocket, I guess,” Ransom mutters, his lips curling with disgust. “She either offered him a lot of money, or she had something she was holding over him the same way she did to us. Hell, if he didn’t hate us so fucking much—and if he weren’t dead—he almost would’ve been a good candidate to help us go up against her.”
“Well, he’s not helping us with shit now,” Malice bites out.
He kicks Ethan’s body again, harder this time, and I wince. It’s not because I object to violence against a dead body, especially not a slimy asshole like Ethan Donovan. But every time Malice jars his body, more blood leaks out of him.
The living room is a complete mess. Bodies and blood everywhere, the couch all shot up, glass broken and bullet holes in the walls. I hate it.
“We should get out of here before someone calls the cops,” I say, glancing between my brothers. “We increased security as much as we could, but obviously, it wasn’t enough. In a building like this, with multiple ways in and out, I couldn’t tighten things up enough. We need to go somewhere else. Someplace Olivia will have a harder time finding us.”
“You think moving will keep us safer?” Ransom asks, crouching by the body of Donovan’s second and rifling through his pockets.
“It’s all relative at this point. She’s getting impatient and closing in. Nothing will make ussafe, but we just need to buy ourselves enough time to make our move against her and take her out of the picture. Even if we’re only one step ahead of her, we need to stay one step ahead until this is over.”
Willow wraps her arms around herself, her gaze darting around the living room. I know this place once belonged to Troy, so it’s not like she’s emotionally attached to it in that sense. But it’s also the place where the four of us created a small, makeshift version of a home for ourselves.
It’s not Troy’s any longer. It’sours.
And I hate that once again, Olivia is forcing us out.
“Okay.” Malice rubs a hand over his jaw, leaving a small streak of blood. “Ten minutes. That’s all we’ve got. Grab all the shit we’re gonna need, and let’s clean this place up. We’ve gotta get these bodies out of here too. And Vic, I want a full perimeter check. Make sure there isn’t an ambush waiting outside for us.”
I nod, and we all spring into action. Ransom grabs the spare duffel bags we bought and starts packing up weapons and ammo first, then goes through and gets clothes and basic toiletries, anything we might need. Malice strips the sheets from the bed and comes back to roll the bodies of the dead men in them for us to take down to the car.
I clean up as much as I can, making a face at all the blood. The carpet is probably ruined, and I make a mental note that if we ever do come back here, I want it all ripped out anyway.
Willow grabs her things, quiet and withdrawn, and I find myself hoping that this will be the last time she’ll have to vacate an apartment where someone died.
We take everything down to the car, stuffing the bodies into the trunk and throwing our shit into the back seat. It’s a tight fit, the vehicle so crammed full that Willow has to crawl onto Ransom’s lap in the back seat, where he wraps his arms around her protectively. I take my usual spot in the front passenger seat as Malice gets behind the wheel.
As we peel out, I wipe the security footage from the penthouse and the surrounding areas, just in case Olivia tries to use that to find out where we went.
“Keep your eye out for a tail,” I murmur to Malice. “Anyone following us.”
“On it.” He nods, already glancing in the rearview mirror. “We’re clean.”
“She’s probably expecting Ethan to check in at some point. When he doesn’t, she’ll figure out that the hit went sideways.”
“Fuck, I wish I could see the look on her face when she finds out her pet goon is dead,” Ransom says bitterly. “And with their leader out of the picture, dead thanks to Olivia’s bullshit, I bet she won’t be able to keep the rest of the Donovan crew under her thumb. They weren’t that tight of a gang in the first place, and without Donovan to hold them together, they’ll fall apart like leaves in the wind”
