Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
A young man with an unpatched leather cut appears around the corner, squinting his eyes to look into the car.
“Fuck.” I wind the window down, plastering on a fake smile. “Hey! I’ve got to head out and pick something up from the town. Open up.”
He’s young with curly hair and innocence on his face. Poor kid probably has no idea what he’s getting into. “I don’t know… Wicked said no one leaves or enters.”
“Mmhmm… and who am I?” I ask, brows arched.
“Wicked’s old lady?”
“Correct. Open the gate, please.”
He nods, rushing off to the gate and flicking it open. I take no time accelerating and zipping off down the road. There would be no way that Wicked would allow me to leave without him, but this is my business, not his. I have to handle it the way I know how. The way I was raised to handle it. I watch as trees pass by the faster I go. Turning down the familiar roads, I wait until the gates come into view, this time all the lights off. Memories of when I was a kid, and ran safely around the property, being his perfect little girl fill my brain and tears fall down my cheeks as I drive the G-Wagon through the gates. I’m angry that I care. That I’m not as emotionless and heartless as I pretend to be. “Dammit, Mama.”
I park next to his car, opening my door and sliding out.
“I didn’t think you’d come…”
I roll my eyes, slamming the door closed. “Well, I’m strapped, so there is that.”
“I’m wounded that you would think I’d do that to you…” Gio puts his hand on his chest in mock pain. “Hey, cuz, heard what happened.”
I let his arms wrap around my body and sigh into his embrace. “I don’t know what to do, G. I’m a mess. After all this. What am I supposed to do? Just move on and run La Rosa like I need it?”
He hooks his arm around my shoulders and directs me through the front doors. “Well, you’re still a La Rosa, so why not?”
“The wrong one, though,” I grumble, swiping my eyes.
“Look, the elders are inside with a couple of the other outfit members and commissioners.” I stop walking. “Hear me out. You know we have to handle this in-house. As much as Wicked is a descendant and technically a made man, this can’t involve the MC. You know this.” I do. He doesn’t have to explain anymore because I knew that the second Papa—Victor—came clean with everything.
My stomach drops to the ground as I enter the foyer. The familiarity is no longer a solace, it’s a pain of what I thought I had. A pain for the little girl who was lied to. My eyes shoot up the grand stairs and I wince.
“The pope has blessed the house and we got it cleaned for you. I know you don’t want it, but it’s yours.” I ignore him and make my way through the hallway and to the family room, where I hear chatting.
It pauses when I stop at the threshold, and all of a sudden I’m a child again, looking up to my aunts and uncles like they’re my superheroes. This could go one or two ways. They could hate me, kill me, or they could take me in and guide me. I don’t know which is worse.
“Bubba.” My aunty, Gio’s mama, pulls me into a gentle embrace, kissing the top of my head. She was closest to Mama. Always around, cooking and baking together.
I squeeze her back and go through each of them before finally taking a seat on the lounge in the center of the room. The very one Mama used to sit on. “I’m sorry for what happened and how it was handled.” I place my hands on my lap, straightening my shoulders. “Unfortunately, he didn’t give us much choice and managed to ruffle the feathers of the Bratva, there was no way around taking him off them.” No one speaks, and I go around the room, meeting all of their eyes. My uncles are old school. When I say old school, I mean in every single way.
“You are to take over now, Ruby Rose. There’s no getting around the fact, you know that, right?” My uncle ends in Italian. I knew this was coming, and in the back of my mind, I think I knew there was no way I could escape it. I don’t have the luxury of choices. I have the luxury of death, murder, crime, and the family I have around me.
“I understand, yes.”
“Good,” Uncle Tommy says, leaning back against the leather chair and resting his ankle on his knee. “You know there’s no escaping, baby girl, and we love you. We are your family. We do not claim Victor’s choices nor did we know what he was doing. We thought you were his child.”