Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
He leads me deeper into the maze, then shoves me to the ground behind a large stack of crushed cars. “Stay down,” he breathes.
Holding his gun ready for action, he stands in front of me, peeking around the metal.
Gravel digs into my palms, my breaths burning up my throat.
Liam.
My eyes fall shut, and all I see are images of bodies and blood. All I hear is gunfire.
Liam.
Intense guilt rips my heart clean from my chest.
It’s my fault.
I didn’t know it would be a trap. I just wanted the box of memories.
Still, it’s my fault, so many men are dying tonight.
Chapter 39
Liam
Every body that drops next to me takes a swing at my heart.
It’s a fucking blood bath, but we fight back, killing the twelve Sicilians who came after us.
That’s twelve fewer fuckers to worry about.
Kiara.
When Collin takes out the last man, my arm slowly lowers to my side, extreme exhaustion warring with the adrenaline flooding my veins.
My eyes scan over the bodies of my enemies, then I look around me at my fallen men.
Aaron. Sebastian. Nolan. Silas. Gavin.
My brothers.
The intense loss shudders through my body like a tidal wave.
“You’re bleeding,” Collin says. He takes hold of my arm, but I can’t tear my eyes away from my fallen men. “Just a flesh wound.” When I don’t respond, he asks, “Boss?”
I snap out of the grief and lock eyes with each of the men who survived the attack. “Take care of our own and burn the fucking Sicilians,” I order.
Turning my eyes to Collin, I lift my hand to the back of his neck. The familiar feeling of disgust ripples over my skin, but he’s only eighteen and already one of my best. Pulling the boy closer, I say, “You did good.”
I let go of him and start walking toward Waylon. “Where’s Kiara?”
He nods toward the exit, then follows me out of the warehouse. “Declan?” I shout.
“Is it clear?” he calls from the junkyard’s direction.
“Yes. Come out.”
I expect to see Declan first, but Kiara comes flying from between a stack of cars. “Liam!” She slams into me, then she rambles, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
I wrap one arm around her shoulders, the image of my fallen men’s lifeless faces flashing through my mind.
She’s safe.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.
She’s fucking safe.
“Let’s go home,” I murmur, the exhaustion setting in fast as the adrenaline fades away.
We all head back to the SUVs, Collin and the other men, carrying the dead Sicilians out of the warehouse and loading them into the sedans.
Stopping by the passenger door, I wait for Kiara to climb in, then I slam it shut.
This is my fucking fault. Kiara didn’t know better because I haven’t taught her a single fucking thing about the mafia.
That’s changing tonight.
I walk around the SUV and slide behind the steering wheel. Starting the engine, I glance at the box by Kiara’s feet.
I put the vehicle in reverse and steer us out of the warehouse. The drive back to the penthouse is filled with crushing silence, but I can’t bring myself to talk yet.
The loss is too fresh, and I just need some time to process it.
I can feel the worry coming in waves from Kiara, but I don’t have it in me to comfort her right now.
Aaron. Sebastian. Nolan. Silas. Gavin.
An incoming call grabs my attention, and seeing Will’s name on the screen, I press the button on the steering wheel. “You need to go to the scrap metal warehouse.”
“I’m already here. What the fuck happened?” he asks, disbelief coating his words.
“Finn set a trap at Kiara’s apartment. I went to the warehouse for backup.”
“Are you okay? Collin said you took a bullet.”
Kiara’s eyes snap to me. “What?”
“Not now,” I mutter to her, then tell Will, “As soon as everything is taken care of at the warehouse, I need you to take care of the lease on that fucking apartment and clear it out.”
“Okay.”
“Make sure our men’s families receive their payments.”
“Will do.” Will sucks in a breath of air. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine.”
I end the call and steer the vehicle into the basement.
“You were shot?” Kiara asks, her voice filled with caution.
“It’s nothing,” I mutter as I shove the door open and get out. I slam it shut, and waiting for Kiara, I take hold of her hand and walk to the elevator, the box beneath her arm.
As soon as we step into the penthouse, I let go of her and stalk to the cabinet on the side of the living room. I pour myself a whiskey and down the liquid.
Jesus.
My men.
Kiara could’ve been killed.
Fuck.
Bracing my hands on the cabinet, I lower my head, working through the loss I suffered tonight.
Shoving the grief into the darkest corner of my heart, I lift my head, and pushing away from the cabinet, I turn to face Kiara.