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“For?” Maxim asked.
Constantine sighed, glancing away as if still thinking about what he wanted to see happen. “Our legacy. There may be a time that brute strength won’t solve our issues. We need to allow those we care about to handle business in whatever way is necessary. I suggest we make regular contributions, eventually investing in real estate, stocks, whatever we decide is prudent.”
“Like a regular corporation.” Dante said, already fascinated by the idea.
“That’s not bad,” Gabriel said as he sat back in his chair. “We’ll have little lords running around soon enough. We can protect them in a different way.”
Lords. Their legacy would be to become the Lords of Corruption. Oddly enough, I liked the thought. “That’s a good idea, even if I have no plans on becoming a father any time soon.”
Constantine wagged his finger. “Never say never, my friend. One day you’re married. The next she’s pregnant. Suddenly, you’re worried about college funds. Trust me. It’ll happen.”
“He’s right,” Maxim said.
“Do you have news?” I had to ask.
“Savannah is pregnant. We found out yesterday.” He smiled broader than I’d seen him do before.
“That’s fantastic. Congratulations!” Constantine said first.
As the group provided the savage Russian with words of encouragement, I sat back and thought about Whitney. The light to my darkness. The good to my evil. What would happen if we had children?
The thought was daunting.
It was also beautiful.
Just like the woman who’d stolen my heart.
* * *
Death.
How many times had I thought about that deep dark world over the past few days? Enough to create a raw hatred of it in my mind. A hospital was a clear reminder of the fact life was short, more so for anyone condemned to a life born in blood and violence.
As I strode down the long corridor, I was struck by the number of medical professionals combing the hallways, heading to the next crisis on their list of doomsday activities. I couldn’t imagine facing death every day, although some would say that was a core product of my world.
Except there was a difference. Doctors used their abilities, years of training to save lives. All I had to do was pull a trigger to end one. The thought wasn’t far from my mind on a humid day in Philly.
The city of freedom.
Only I’d never felt so constrained in my life.
As I headed into Nico’s room, the sheer number of instruments used to keep my brother alive weighed heavily on my mind. He’d almost lost his life to save mine.
I hadn’t brought flowers or some ridiculous balloon to try to cheer him up. I’d come by myself, longing to feel the energy he’d always projected, his lust for life taken for granted. Instead, I felt dead air, as if he’d given up, succumbing to more than just his injuries.
His life had been fated to follow a certain path from the day he was born. Some might consider him royalty, but I knew differently. As the third son born in a powerful empire, he would never achieve the position of Don, never aspire to the level of greatness afforded the single man in control of a powerful empire. Until today, I never considered that his world was bleak, the choices he had so limited they were suffocating.
I moved toward his bedside, staring down at him as if I could provide the answers he needed. I wasn’t God. There was little I could do to alter his future, with a few exceptions. As I shifted my gaze toward the apparatuses monitoring his blood pressure and oxygen flow, a tightness developed in my chest.
He’d almost died because of my need for revenge.
The ache inside of me left a dense feeling in my chest, the weight nearly crushing. After a few seconds of studying his ashen face, I walked toward the window, staring down at the parking lot. Even the view was an ugly reminder that no one could escape the inevitable horror of death.
I didn’t bother looking at my watch as minutes went by, but I could swear I heard every second as they ticked a hard drum of reality.
When I heard the rustle of sheets I turned toward him, unable to keep from smiling as he opened his eyes. “The sleeping beauty awakes.”
Nico huffed then lifted his head, trying to find the source of the voice. “I’m going to venture a guess I’m the ugly duckling at this point.”
