All Roman said is that they don’t know who was actually behind it.
I’m now suspicious of everyone, which means everyone is suspicious of everyone and that everything is complete chaos right now, and they don’t know which way to go what to do.
And for the first time in decades.
We’re calling in a Commission, bringing in every Family in the Cosa Nostra for a meeting of the ages.
And I have to lead it.
All the Families.
All of them.
From every inch of the world, will be here in less than four days, and I have to lead them. I have to do what my dad did, what my uncles did with him.
I have to be the hero.
I almost smile. I have to be better than Iron Man.
He would have laughed at that analogy.
The next generation. Our parents always told us the crown is heavy. What they never explained was that the sword and shield are too.
Even the armor we have to put around our bodies feels like it might choke us alive.
I would know, as I lay my hands on my father and say a prayer.
In my mind, it has jagged edges filled with years of bloodshed and tears, but on the other side, laughter, memories of peace, fun, memories of family. And at the end of the day, is that not what we have chosen to protect?
Family.
I tell myself to let one tear fall is okay, so I let it. It falls in slow motion onto his right hand as I grip it and exchange weapons.
I leave him my peace, my existence before—which was to learn, to train, to rest in his knowledge—and I take up Excalibur.
I pull it into my hands, and I kneel.
“I now knight you…” I hear my dad’s voice in my head. I feel his words in my soul as they clasp around my heart like a vise. “And make you… king.”
“You’re king,” I whisper to myself.
“You’ve always been mine,” he says in my head. “Now lead.”
I stand.
Changed.
Enraged.
Finally ready, and when I look up, it’s to see Del nod in my direction, her expression mirroring mine.
It’s time.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Del
I leave my mother-in-law, Mo, with her sleeping husband. I like to say sleeping because to say it’s a coma makes me too sad to even process words, let alone an explanation.
Something I don’t have.
Because I have no clue what happened to put him in this position, just like I don’t know why Chase is bandaged up.
I take King’s hand and feel the pressure, the weight, and it kills me that he has always felt like he has to take it on himself, so I try with every mental part of me to take it in, to share it with him, to break that crown in half.
One half of a broken crown will be mine from here on out, and I’ll carry it even if it pierces my skin and makes me bleed, for an eternity, no matter who I love or what my own wants are.
I will be his.
Always.
Because to want anything other than that is to want King’s own demise, and I wouldn’t wish what he has to do on anyone, not even my worst enemy. A part of me loves him more than it should and is willing to at least give him this.
My sacrifice.
Even if right now I can’t fully give him my heart.
“You were born for this,” I whisper as his hand touches the handle to the bedroom door.
He leans over and kisses the top of my head. “So were you.”
We walk out hand in hand.
The house is buzzing in low whispers as we continue our journey down the hall and finally stop at the top of the stairs.
Every single boss is present except a sleeping Tex, including my uncle. The most powerful men in the world except the remaining two bosses from Sicily look up at us with their wives, their men, our men, my friends.
I want to ask what now?
Instead, King releases my hand and puts his hands on the wooden banister bracing himself like he needs something to hold him up for what he’s about to say. “As of now, I’m the acting Capo. You can try to shoot me, but that would be stupid considering I have a hundred men already surrounding this place, more cameras will be installed, and…” He hesitates. “The FBI has been very helpful in digging into who would try to hurt Uncle Chase and my father while they were out at dinner with their wives—I find it odd that they’re unscathed, but Tank has been extremely helpful in having the feds dig into what could possibly cause a fucking bomb to go off.” His chest is heaving. “He fucking covered her with his own body. His own body!” he yells, slamming his hands on the banister over and over again until I wonder if he’s going to break his palms in half. “What the hell is wrong with you? That any of you would want so much power so desperately that a mother, a wife, would open a birthday present and have seconds before death only for the man she’s loved her entire life to take the blast for her? What sort of person? I just keep asking that over and over again. Mom’s birthday. Dad’s surprise. Uncle Chase and Luc could have died, and we know it wasn’t for him; it was for her. Why?” He shakes his head.