Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
All I want to do is get out there in the street with my guns and my killers. I want to slaughter my enemies, hunt them all down and make it slow, but the pain in her voice keeps me here. The fear of losing her keeps me in this room.
“I know you’re angry with me, but I will not fail you, Camille.”
“It’s not about that.” She lets out a low sigh. “It’s the war. How many more people will die because of me?”
“As many as it takes until the Italians are finished.”
“But what about you? What about your people? I don’t want to see them hurt. Those men—” She clears her throat, trying not to cry. “They were alive one second. And the next, they’re gone. All because I was there.”
“That is not on you,” I say firmly. “That is on the Pavone Famiglia, those cowardly scum.”
“I know that,” she says. “But how do we stop it?”
“We make you my wife.” I stand and pace across the room. “I will call Gareth once the grounds have been secured. I’ll instruct him to bribe a judge. Any amount at all.”
“Evander—” she starts but I turn on her.
“No more fucking games, Camille. No more back and forth, no more uncertainty, no more roadblocks.” I stride to the bed then kneel beside her. “I will do whatever it takes to make you my wife. I will protect you. I will kill our enemies. I will end this war for good.”
She stares into my eyes. I want her to say she believes me. I want her to kiss me, pull me close, let me breathe in her smell, taste her lips, feel her warmth. Instead, she lets out a long breath.
“And then what?” she asks, blinking back tears. “Gareth files the paperwork. Then what? You keep killing the Pavones? They keep killing your people in return? And what about us, do we keep acting like we’re really man and wife, when we both know this wasn’t meant to be forever? I don’t know what to do anymore, Evander, this has gone so far. You kept things from me and I can’t forgive that.”
“I won’t ask you to, but I will earn your trust again.” I feel as though my chest is cracking open. I want her to see my heart beat for her, to make her understand that I’m as open as I can be, that I am as much hers as I’m capable of being.
She shakes her head slowly and looks away. The tension grows between us. I want to snap it like the bones of my enemies but I hold the silence. I deserve the silence.
I should’ve told her about the delay from the start. If I had done that, none of this ever would’ve happened.
“Those men that died,” she says and glances at me. “Who were they?”
“I’m not sure who was on duty. I didn’t get a good look.”
“Can you do something for them? For their families, I mean?”
I nod slowly, pride blossoming in my heart. Despite coming so close to death, she’s still a kind person.
“I’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
“Thank you.” She pulls her knees to her chest, hugging herself. “I don’t want to be alone, but I’m afraid if I ask you to stay, you’ll get the wrong idea.”
My hands tighten. “I will stay.”
“It’s fake, Evander. We can’t lose sight of that. It’s all fake.”
My anger drains away. She looks so small and vulnerable, holding onto herself like she’s going to drift away if she doesn’t. I climb into bed, wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her close.
“I’ll stay right here as long as you need me,” I whisper as she leans her head on my shoulder, tears making her chest shake. “Real or fake, I’m here.”
Chapter 41
Evander
Helen arrives to take over with Camille. The two of them sit shoulder to shoulder in the living room drinking wine while Real Housewives shout at each other on the flatscreen.
I find Lycus downstairs. “Situation,” I bark at him. I’m on edge, itching to find my enemies, but Camille’s words keep playing through my head. This is fake, it’s fake, it’ll never be more than what it is.
No matter what I want. No matter how I feel.
Several of my captains and soldiers stand at attention, looking grim.
“Cameras got the shooting,” Lycus reports. “We have the plates and we’re running them now.”
“No need to wait for the results. It was the Italians.” I look around and nobody argues. “Get a squad together. Reliable men, good men. I want you to lead them personally.”
Lycus nods sharply. “Consider it done. What’s the target?”
“Burn Conti’s house to the fucking ground.”
There’s a long moment of silence. They stare at me, saying nothing, as the gravity of my orders falls on them.
For years, residential areas have been off limits. Businesses, clubs, that sort of thing, those are fair game—but Chicago rowhomes are packed too close together, and the risk of civilians getting caught in the crossfire is too high. Nobody wanted to be the ones to kill some kid by accident, but things are different now.