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"Say what?" Tristan asks, wincing as the stitches in his scalp smart painfully.
"That was a waste of time." Liam cranks the wheel and they're off, his green eyes smoldering in the growing darkness.
"Not necessarily true," Tristan replies. "They talked to us, didn't they?”
"Yeah, then told us to get lost," Liam retorts. "Lucas has got them all wrapped around his damn finger.”
"I don't think so," Tristan replies. "They're coming around; you heard what Dalton said. He hasn't made his mind up yet, and that means we've got leverage. And more importantly, he was willing to entertain talks with us, which means the alliance isn't completely off the table.”
"And what about Vivian, damn it?" Liam asks. "Every second that passes is another chance for him to hurt her. You realize that, don't you?”
"More than you can believe," Tristan replies, his tone serious.
Liam sighs, letting his anger dissipate. If it were going to be easy, anyone could do it. But still… "So what do we do now?" he asks, turning to his friend.
"We take this back to Theo," Tristan replies. "We've still got a play here; we just need to figure out what it is.”
ChapterThirty-Eight
Icould chalk it up to my injuries, but the dream I have my second night back at the apartment is no fever dream.
I'm standing in front of a window that overlooks the entirety of London. Spread out in front of me is our kingdom: the city Theo has tapped me, Liam, and Tristan to lead, in all of its nighttime glory. They wanted me to be their mafia queen, the glue holding the alliance together, and that's exactly why they risked their lives and safety to train me. Business, leadership, combat… and using what they taught me is exactly how I clawed my way to the top.
A hand wraps around my torso, pulling me flush against a hard, muscular body. A pair of lips finds my neck, and in the reflection of the glass, I make out a familiar pair of emerald green eyes.
"Liam…" I murmur, letting my eyelids flutter closed.
He hums into my neck, and I can feel his arousal pressing against my hips through his jeans. I reach back to pull him closer when another mouth finds mine, a hand tangling in my hair as someone draws me into a passionate kiss. I let my eyes open and meet a silver gaze: Theo’s. His hands—or are they Liam’s?—are at my hips, sliding up my sides and down again, teasing me through the thin fabric of my tank top in a silent declaration that I'm theirs, and theirs only. I stretch up and wrap my arms around his neck, arching my back in pleasure as his mouth works against mine. I'm lost in the three-way kiss for what seems like an eternity, getting more and more tangled up in their limbs, losing myself in them, until I feel someone touching the small of my back, and I know without looking that it's Tristan. The third set of hands find their way under the hem of my shirt, fingers trailing over the sensitive skin of my lower back, and I moan into the mouth against mine, clinging to the bodies around me like they're my last lifeline.
I know what's about to happen, and as the newcomer pulls my shirt over my head, I can't wait any longer. I reach behind myself to find Tristan's wrist, gripping it tightly and pulling him around front. I need to look at him, to meet those sapphire eyes and know that I'm his…
Except when I break the kiss with Theo, my eyes opening once more, terror ices my blood and I find that I can't move. Tristan is there, but he's covered in blood, so battered and bruised that I can barely recognize him. My eyes travel over the black eye, the split lip, the bleeding wounds on his face and his hands…
My fault,I think, stepping back in a panic.My fault. Callie. Sienna. The car crash.
Liam lets out a cry of pain, and I whirl around to see he's bleeding now, too, his body broken and battered from the shootout with the first pair of hitmen who were sent after us. I thought we shot our way out of there, but I was wrong, so wrong…
Theo's hand comes to my shoulder, turning me around to face him, and a cry falls from my lips when I see blood pouring from a gunshot wound in his chest. I don't need to ask who pulled the trigger.
"Kid," Theo says, using the nickname he gave me that very first night at the bar all those months ago. "We would have fought for you.”
"Theo..." My voice catches in my throat.
"This was your fault, Vivi," Liam rasps. “None of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.”
"You did this," Tristan agrees, his face streaked with blood.
"We would have fought for you," Theo repeats, and I watch as the light begins to fade from their eyes, their voices joining together in a haunting chorus.
"How could you?”
I sit bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath and covered in sweat. My heart is racing in my chest, and my injuries are throbbing in time to the beats, pulsing pain through my neck and into my head.
Another nightmare. If I thought things were bad after Lucas shot me, I had no idea what I was in for. I fling the covers off and scramble out of bed, rushing to the painting Theo gave me without consciously thinking about it. I touch the canvas, my fingertips tracing over the layers of thick silver paint, and slowly the images from the dream fade from my mind... although the guilt remains, and so does the fear.
I worried before that I wasn't cut out for this. Even before I dragged my best friend into this life and got her attacked by Lucas's men, I worried I wouldn’t be the person the guys wanted me to be. But the only thing worse than the thought of disappointing them is the thought of getting them hurt, the same way I got Callie hurt.
And Iwillget them hurt. I know it. I can feel it deep down in my bones, whether it's because Lucas is finally going to make his move on me or because I'm never going to be what they want me to be... but if I stay here, I'm making that easier for him, and I'll be damned if I'm going to give the bastard an easy victory.
