Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Fair point.” Gareth bends over to move the Russian. “Little help?”
Evander and Ford join him.
Carmine helps me lead Lanzo away. I angle us toward the side gate. I don’t want to go back inside. I don’t want to face Grandpop’s body again. I’ll have to do that sooner or later, but right now, I need to process.
“We’ll deal with your grandfather,” Carmine says, speaking calmly, exuding a comforting competence as he nods at me. “The official way. Burian gets thrown in a deep hole and forgotten. But your grandfather will be treated with all the respect owed, I promise.”
That makes me feel marginally better. Grandpop doesn’t deserve to be forgotten, and so long as I’m alive, he won’t be.
“He saved me,” I mumble, barely able to imagine a life beyond this moment. If it weren’t for Lanzo, I would’ve crumbled into ashes already. “He grabbed Burian’s gun. Tried to pull it away.”
Lanzo and Carmine exchange a look. “Brave man,” Lanzo says. “Very brave man.”
I cry as Carmine helps us into his car. I give the house one last backwards glance, and it looks strange, like I’ve never seen it before. Like I’ve become a stranger in the short time since I’ve been away.
It’s the last time I’ll ever see it.
The thought hits me with a sudden, horrible clarity.
I’m finished with this house.
My old life is in there. So much time spent in that place with Grandpop. Taking care of him, making his life as comfortable as possible. He won’t ever get the last days I wanted for him. Life doesn’t always work out that way. I hate myself for being too slow, too weak to bring it all together.
But he saved me. He sacrificed himself, trying to help me get away, and I owe him everything.
The least I can do is live a little. Like he always told me to.
I sit in the back seat with Lanzo, a towel pressed over his wound. He stares at me, never taking his eyes away, as Carmine drives fast toward his mansion, talking on the phone. Giving commands to his men, some to help the Atlas guys dispose of the body, some to clean up the scene at the house, some to make sure the doctor’s ready for Lanzo.
“You’re going to be okay,” I say, kissing his neck, his chin. “I swear, you’ll be okay.”
“You’re right, I will be.” He’s staring at me. Not taking his eyes away, like he’s afraid that if he stops looking, I’ll disappear.
But I’m not going anywhere.
“You know how you asked me to move in?” I ask, blinking to keep the tears away.
“The offer still stands.”
“Good, because I’m taking you up on it.”
“I love you.” He touches my cheek with the fingers not stained by his own blood. “I love you more than I ever dreamed I could love.”
“I love you too,” I whisper, kissing him softly. “You’ll be okay.”
He leans his head back, his eyes fluttering. “You know, I’ve never lived with a woman before.” He smiles. “I think I’m going to like it.”
Chapter 44
Lanzo
Six Months Later
The Oak is quiet on a Wednesday night. I squeeze Renata’s hand as we head through the lobby, past that magical tree, angling toward the bar. She slows her pace, staring up at the branches, at the leaves, and pauses before we pass through into the next room. “You know, when you first brought me here, I thought this was all a dream.”
“You did not.” I punch her arm lightly. “See, very much awake.”
She swats me away. “I’m serious. Think about my life before you came along. My parents abandoned me, Grandpop raised me, Grandma passed away. We had no money and nothing nicer than whatever second-hand stuff we could dig out from Goodwill. Then Grandpop’s dying and I’m desperate for money—” She pauses, emotion flooding her voice. I wrap my arm around her, hugging her close.
Even now, six months after it all happened, she still chokes up every time she mentions him. She’ll carry the guilt of what happened with her for the rest of her life, and it’s part of my job to try to soothe that the best I can. To make her see that it wasn’t her fault.
In the same way that I’m dealing with my own demons.
“You’re not desperate anymore,” I say softly, prompting her.
“No, I’m not. But back then, I was, and this place seemed magical. It seemed… I don’t know, it seemed fake. Maybe even a little obscene. Like there’s all this wealth and beauty right here, and barely anyone gets to enjoy it.”
“That’s life,” I say, not sure how I feel about that reply.
She only shrugs. “Our standards are way too fucking low,” she murmurs, looking up into the branches of the tree. “If there’s this.”
I squeeze her tightly. Neither of us speaks until she turns and kisses me gently.