Deaf.
Blind. Rage.
Suddenly, pitch-black coats my irises, and I fall forward on my knees, a hard knock to the back of my head stealing the strength and sight from me.
I shake the hazy dark from my vision, slowly regaining a grainy view of the parking lot.
Growling at the gravel, I try to push up with my hands, but I’m kicked in the side, the boot of someone throwing me over.
I'll kill them.
I roll onto my back as fuckers circle me, and one face comes into view. I should have known.
Only one man can control his fist, the meticulous placement, the precision of pressure, the exact amount of both needed to render a man immobile.
Luca Butcher.
"Calm, son." My father drops to his haunches, blood spilling from his nose. Compliments of me, I presume. "That'll do." He grips my shoulder as I regain my senses, hearing the calamity of my men hit me square in the forehead. Hearing Aurora shouting orders. The cars leaving.
The parking lot emptying.
My father is still gripping my shoulder…And I'm certain he has never held me for such a time. And he is staring at me again with that uncomfortable intent. With regret. Andempathy.
I frown at him. What does that look mean to me? It reminds me of an eighteen-year-old boy after his first kill, after murdering a young girl. Of being rejected such empathy. It retells a moment of need, of wanting such understanding.
"Don't feel."
"You're a leader."
"A leader is always alone."
Perhaps he never said that.It was teachings from theCosa Nostra.It was my mother… And it was my old Don. It wasJimmy Storm.And I made his words synonymous with my father's, but they never were… were they?
Jimmy encouraged the segregation.
And I, I hid in it.
Christ.
I squeeze my eyes shut to the sensation of his fist gripping my shoulder. I've lost my mind. My absolute control, my logic, rationalities, utterly waring with my emotions. "Max," I hiss through my teeth.
"He will keep her safe, son."
Seeing only red in my mind, I open my eyes to find Bronson has moved in beside my father, a look of both volatility and pride firing within his glowing green gaze.
"Well, well," he almost sings. "There you are, my beautiful brother. And what a sight for sore eyes you are."
"We have to find them," I say darkly.
"We don't have time to chase them around the city, brother. So get up. Wipe your pretty suit off. And let's go get our brothers… andourgirl at the campsite."
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
clay
I fist the wheel.We go ahead with the plan. Bronson is with Carter somewhere in the thick, dense bush. Aurora waits at home with Luca and the men, ready to initiate a recovery operation should we not come back tonight.
And I drive alone.