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Angelo paces.
That’s never a good sign, but when betrayal runs deep in his veins, it feels all the more palpable. Everyone in the room stays quiet.
My shoulder is now strapped as best it can be until Sage can get here. The bullet only grazed me, thank fuck, but it still hurts like a bitch.
We’re in the large meeting room at the warehouse with the two-way mirror facing Cameron, who’s tied to a chair, bound and gagged.
Rocco is just itching to get in there. He’s almost got sweaty palms just waiting for the okay.
But right now, Angelo is dealing with the fallout, and Fynn is standing his ground.
“Did I not stress how important it was to be done with this years ago?” Angelo’s voice is eerily calm and quiet—definitely not a good sign.
I feel for my brother. I don’t like anyone coming down on him, even Angelo, when it’s totally warranted. I’ve always been protective of him, and he is over me, even though we fight like cats and dogs, get on each other’s nerves, and say we hate each other. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m pissed at him, too.
He lied to all of us, in a way. To me, his best friend. And now we have this to deal with.
Turns out Cameron isn’t one of the players in a very big game. He’s just one of the mules, nothing more. Just how much of an involvement he had, I don’t know, but that’s why we’re here.
“I fucked up,” Fynn says, his hands in his pockets, head hanging low. “I know that.”
“You didn’t think to call me. You didn’t think to say that you couldn’t go through with it? Fuck, Fynn, you didn’t even have to pull the trigger. Just make sure it got done. Who’s the fuckface we assigned to take care of it?” He looks to Rocco, who holds his hands in the air.
“Don’t involve me in this. I wasn’t in on this detail. If I were, he’d be fish food, and we wouldn’t be in this predicament now,” Rocco says.
Satisfied, Angelo turns back to Fynn, who’s staying silent.
Marco, standing next to Angelo and seeming just as grim, shakes his head in exasperation.
“Soldier named Carlos,” Enzo puts in. “He’s no longer with us, lucky for him. And Darko.”
“Darko thought I killed him,” Fynn admits. “It isn’t his fault.”
Angelo points at Fynn. “You had one fucking job to do! And after what he did to Sage, did you think he deserved a fucking slap on the wrist? Did he deserve to breathe air again?”
Fynn shakes his head. “He didn’t. But Sage knew what I was about to do, and she was in my head…I should have finished it…”
“You damn right you should have!” Angelo’s voice raises higher. “You should’ve come to me and told me that you couldn’t do it, that you made him swim, and that you took pity on a man who raped and beat the woman you love.”
I turned to look at Fynn. “He raped her?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “She never told me that.” He looks bewildered.
“Only he did,” Marco puts in. “And now this is all back to haunt us. He was at the shipping yard, and he stole from the Colombians. He’s the reason we all could have been killed in that car bombing. Do the laws of our brotherhood mean absolutely nothing to you?”
“Clearly not,” Angelo cuts in, the two of them standing before Fynn, as he doesn’t meet their eye. My blood boils. “Clearly, you had no fucking balls then, and you have no fucking balls now!”
He meets Angelo’s eye and then pushes him back in the chest. Angelo raises his fist back as Marco tries to shove them back. I step in front of Fynn.
“Leave him alone, Angelo. He said he was sorry. What’s done is done, and he was just a kid at the time. What did you honestly expect to happen if you left him in charge?” I snarl, holding Fynn back with both hands. His face is red and hot; I’ve never seen him like this before. His anger is starting to show.
Angelo’s eyes snap to mine. “Oh, so this is my fault? Typical of you to defend him. Maybe you left your balls back in the Charles as well? Maybe we should all go down there and hold your heads under and fucking check to see if we can retrieve them. What do you think, Marco?”
“Just cool it,” Marco replies, still struggling to hold Angelo back.
I shake my head. “Knock it off. This isn’t how we roll, Angelo. He was barely twenty years old. You shouldn’t have put him in a position to deal with that. The mistake is on you, not him.”
