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“Oh, hell yeah.” Tatum tosses it back, barely wincing.
My mind whirls as I process this information, and I land on one very crucial point. “Brooklyn only has sons.”
Every single woman stops and looks at one another. I can feel the chill in the air, sensing that I’ve stumbled onto something vital, a piece of the plot that could reshape my understanding of everything.
“Yeah,” Jani drawls before unleashing that unsettling laugh of hers. “Desmond isn’t in charge.”
“I caught on to that. His mom is.” Desmond may be the public face that the other families are aware of, but he isn’t the one calling the shots. Brooklyn is.
“You’re going to need this.” Harlow pushes a shot glass toward me, her brown hair spilling over her shoulder. “Brooklyn won’t be in charge forever.”
I grab the shot glass and throw it back. Despite not having eaten much today, I take the damn shot. Apples and spice create a trail of heat down my throat, pooling in my belly. “Lay it on me.”
“Brooklyn wanted girls. She had this vision of a matriarch, of women taking down every crime family on the East Coast,” Harlow says softly, pouring a dark drink into five glasses and topping it off with bubbly. “Traditionally, women got the shaft.”
Autumn snorts, her pale skin flushing at the sound she just made. “Even though my dad would follow Brooklyn to the ends of the earth, he still comes from blood money and dark debts. My existence alone…” She pauses to take her own shot. “Listen, men raped many of our women,” she says bluntly. “Some of us and our mothers were products of rape.”
I’m no fool. I can read between the lines here, especially as the room falls silent, the only sound the sips we make as we pick up our drinks.
“Got one for me?” Brooklyn asks, surprising all of us. “Nonalcoholic, please.”
My face flushes red as Desmond’s mother walks in, dressed in high-waisted black pants and a cropped black shirt. She looks comfortable and beautiful.
“Coming to party with us, Mama?” Harlow asks, but her eyes don’t quite meet Brooklyn’s.
The matriarch of the family, who is barefoot, steps up to the island and pours herself a shot. We watch as she tosses it back and takes a deep, soothing breath. Her eyes are like burning embers as she looks at each of us.
“Harlow, I’m not angry with you,” she says, looking at my friend. Harlow’s shoulders sag, and she sighs, nodding once. “I understand why you did what you did, but you took a risk.”
Harlow twists up her face. “Desmond watched her every day for two years,” she mumbles. “He already chose her. I just?—”
“Forced his stubborn hand?” Brooklyn finishes for her. “My son is as stubborn as they come, but you’re right.” She turns to face me. “He already chose you.”
“Sounds a little stalkerish.” I spin my glass around, unsure I want to meet her eyes, but I do.
“I’m looking at the future of the Black family,” she says softly. “The five of you will take over one day. You will rule and ensure that women in crime willnever” —her voice hardens and then breaks a little as she says the word— “have their consent stolen again. You will guarantee our daughters will find peace, and our sons will speak up where their forefathers did not.”
“Yes, Mama,” the others whisper.
“You included me,” I say, turning toward her, confusion pulling my brows low.
“My sweet child,” Brooklyn says softly. “One day, my son’s wife will take my place.”
I’m pretty sure she could have shot me dead right then. Her son’s wife. She can’t imply that I will… No.
She grins as she speaks. “Just because this is a matriarchal society doesn’t mean I don’t endorse arranged unions.”
I might choke on my own spit.
Satisfied with herself, Brooklyn grabs the drink Harlow made and saunters off, a dangerous smile on her face.
“No,” I whisper, turning back to the others. “You can’t be serious,” I hiss.
“She looks like she’d give out free hugs at a pride parade,” Tatum says with a slight shake to her voice, her eyes on the door Brooklyn just walked through, “but she’d just as easily slice a man’s throat without hesitation.”
“While wearing white,” Autumn adds.
“Luckily,” Harlow speaks up, “it’s all a formality for you.”
