King is quiet for a minute.
“What?” I ask, leaning up on one elbow. “She didn’t?”
“No,” he says.
“Then who?” I ask.
“I don’t think I should talk about this.”
“Come on,” I say, laying a hand on his chest. “I’m as much a part of the mafia as you are. I’ve told you everything, King. No secrets. Please?”
He sighs. “It was Little Al. My partner.”
“Shit,” I say, sinking back onto the pillows. “I’m sorry.”
“Which means I’m under the microscope to prove my loyalty,” he says. “And to make matters worse, the son of a bitch took off, and we haven’t found him.”
“You will,” I assure him. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that the mafia doesn’t let go of a grudge. They don’t let traitors hide forever any more than they let snitches disappear. Even Wit-Sec can’t hide most snitches, and nothing can hide a man who ratted out his own family for personal gain. Eventually, they’re found and punished.
“I’m supposed to kill him,” King admits. “What if I can’t do it, El?”
He turns to look at me, his dark eyes brimming with doubts and fears that have kept him up these past nights. I feel like I’ve been given a sacred gift in his sharing them with me.
“You can,” I say. “When the time comes, you’ll make the right choice.”
“But is that the right choice?” he asks, rolling toward me again, tucking his arm under his head. “What if we’re made up of all our choices, and every time, we tell ourselves it’s right, but really, we just didn’t want to make the impossible choice. And one day, we look at ourselves, and we see all those choices add up to make us a bad person?”
“You’re not a bad person,” I say firmly. “If it’s not the right thing, then you won’t do it. You’ll do something else. You said it yourself, that when it came to pull the trigger on Luciani, you didn’t think twice. You did what you needed to do.”
“I didn’t know him,” King says. “He wasn’t my partner.”
“Little Al may have been your partner in name, but if he was really a partner, he wouldn’t have tried to have you killed,” I say, anger rising inside me on his behalf. “If you can’t do it, I will. That asshole almost left me a widow at eighteen.”
Instead of smiling, King’s frown deepens. “I think about that every day,” he admits.
“Well, stop,” I say, throwing a leg over him and cuddling closer. “You’ll find him, and you’ll make sure he never gets a chance to leave me a widow. I know you’ll do it. You have everything it takes to fight and win.”
“And what’s that?” he asks, adjusting his arm to pillow my head before smiling down at me.
“You’re a good man, and you have loyalty to your family and a reason to make it home at night.”
“I think I’m starting to get it,” he says, squeezing me closer. “I thought love was the enemy, but it’s just what you make of it.”
“Sure, love is dangerous,” I agree, turning my head to kiss his shoulder. “But isn’t that what makes it worth it?”
“It must be,” King says. “Because I’d risk anything for you, Eliza. Whatever I have to do to keep you, to make you happy, to be your man, that’s what I’m doing to do. And it’s so fucking worth it.”
“I know you miss her, but maybe that’s what your sister wanted, too,” I say. “To die for love. Maybe that was worth it for her.”
“I wish I could have saved her,” he says quietly, pressing his lips to my forehead.
“I know,” I say. “But maybe she didn’t need you to. Maybe she didn’t want that. You can’t be a hero to everyone.”
He snorts. “I’m no hero.”
“Maybe not,” I admit. “But maybe a hero doesn’t have to swoop in wearing a cape and save everyone. Maybe you can be a hero just by showing up, by being there for someone when anyone else would have walked away.”
“Eliza, I’m never leaving you,” he says, turning my face to his. “You’re my wife.”