“Fuck,” I whisper, running a hand through my hair as I spring to my feet.
It’s all over now.
I take a quick shower, then change into black trousers and a white shirt. Rai is still fast asleep on her stomach. She probably won’t wake up for some time due to exhaustion.
Sitting at her desk, I grab a pen and write until my knuckles hurt. She’s always said left-handed people like me have horrible handwriting, and I guess it’s true. But instead of writing a generic email or text, I’d rather leave one last personal touch behind.
I place the letter on the pillow, then brush my lips against her forehead, letting them linger there for a second too long.
“Mmmm…Kyle?” she mumbles in her sleep.
If she wakes up now, she’ll probably strangle me. I would deserve it, but I can’t die before I end it once and for all.
So I slide the covers up to her chin and close the door of our room for the last time.
If I had wanted to kill Rolan before, it wouldn’t have been hard.
He’s basically inviting snipers to buildings across from his clubs so they can finish him off.
The reason I haven’t done that is because he needed to suffer, and he needed to suffer more than Mom and Dad did.
It wouldn’t have been revenge if he didn’t face his sins. It wouldn’t have been satisfying if I didn’t have him writhing in his own blood at my feet, begging me to save him like Ma begged that time.
But the circumstances are different from when I first started.
He got Rai involved.
If those Albanians still had her, she would’ve lost her life by now. And that’s Rolan’s final strike. That’s the bullet with his name on it.
I might not have been able to prevent my parents’ death, but I’ll protect Rai even if it’s the last thing I do.
If I finish Rolan, the entire war with the Irish will end. Flame said most of the higher-ups on Rolan’s side think going against the Russians and the Italians is madness. Now that the Japanese and the Triads are bound to join too, it’s a pure suicide mission.
Rolan, being a dictator, killed anyone who was against him in the organization. He’s holding them with fear, and as soon as he’s gone, peace will return.
Rai will be safe.
I stare through my lenses at the man who’s sitting in a lounge area in the midst of the Irish’s club. He’s older now, in his sixties with completely white hair, but pure evil still lurks in his eyes.
My phone vibrates and I retrieve it without breaking eye contact with him. I can’t shoot now, anyway. There are too many people buzzing around him, bringing him reports and whatnot. I need a clear shot at him because a miss would compromise my position.
My lips part when I make out the name flashing on the screen.
Godfather.
It’s the first time he’s called me in ten years. I thought he wouldn’t have my new number, even though I kept his old one.
I swallow as I answer, “Hello?”
“What the fuck are you doing, punk?”
My finger remains still at the trigger. Godfather might be in his forties, but he still sounds as authoritative as when I was five years old and clung to him every step of the way.
“Popping some heads,” I joke, because that’s the only way I know how to talk to him after all these years.
“Heard you got shot.”
“Meh. Shots can’t kill me. Not in this lifetime.”
“Heard you got married.”
“Kind of, but it’s…over.” My voice lowers before I go back to joking. “Not everyone is made for married life like you, Godfather. Some are just complete bastards who drive their wives to the point of no return.”
“Be serious. What type of mess have you gotten yourself into this time?”
“Good old revenge.” I pause. “Remember the people I told you killed my parents? I found one of them. I still don’t know who the arsehole Russian who betrayed Mum is, but I don’t have time for that now, so I will just settle for my fucker uncle.”
“Then what? Do you think you’ll be relieved or that your parents will come back to life?”
“No, but it will feel fucking fantastic.”
“Kyle…”
“And it will keep that wife I drove to the point of no return safe.”
“Where are you?”
“In the place where the grand finale will happen.”
“Where exactly?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I’m here.”
I pause. “Here where?”
“In the States. Come meet me.”
“Why…why would you want to meet me after everything that happened? I thought you hated me.”
“I hated what you did, but I never hated you, Kyle. You were the son I had before I knew what fatherhood meant, and that didn’t change even after I had my own children.”
I gulp, then clear my throat. “You’re being sappy, Godfather.”
“And you’re being reckless again. Come meet me. Now.”