Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“Why did you care so much? He was a bastard.”
“He was my bastard.” She smiles sadly, shaking her head. “He put me through hell but back then, I would’ve said it was worth it. If you ever meet someone, I hope you feel that way about them, I really do.”
The truck parks and Cillian looks over his shoulder. “As touching as this conversation’s been, you two need to shut the fuck up and follow orders. If either of you hesitates in doing exactly what I say, I will kill the other. Understood?”
I nod once and my mother stares out the window. I try to picture her loving Genaro the way I love Fynn and can almost understand why she’d put up with his bloody suits and his temper and his drinking and his late nights. All that fear, all that uncertainty. And beneath it, the knowledge that she cheated one night, and that the truth about my conception could tear her world to pieces. She lived with that stress for ten years, and when it finally exploded, it burst spectacularly.
I hate that she blames herself. I don’t blame her, not one bit. She did her best with me and never once made me feel like I was a burden, even though it’s obvious I was, especially after Dad left. She loved me unconditionally, and I love her too.
Which is why I have to save her life, even if it costs my own.
“Out of the truck,” Cillian says, opening his door.
I open mine. Mom shuffles to my side and we get down onto the pavement together. Cillian takes my arm and drags me behind him, and Mom hurries to keep up.
There are other cars in the lot. Cars I think I recognize—SUVs, big ones, and several of them are Range Rovers, just like the ones parked in the Bruno garage.
Cillian’s father and three guards enter the club first. It’s brightly lit like all the house lights are turned up to high. There’s a big bar in the middle filled with bottles and glassware and a massive dance floor on the right. Standing tables fill the left space, and there’s a DJ booth in the back. The decor is industrial chic, with lots of glittery orbs hanging from the ceiling, and I can imagine this place sparkles at night with the proper ambiance, music, and crowd, but right now it feels ugly and daft.
Cillian and Gavino stand at the far side of the club. They’re on the other side of the bar. Several Bruno soldiers stand around them, fully armed, wrapped in body armor. Just like Cillian’s men. I feel Cillian’s excitement pulse through him as he tugs me along and we go to meet with the Bruno Famiglia in the middle of the empty expanse of the dance floor.
“Stay and don’t move,” he says once we reach the edge of the wooden rectangle. He continues on with his father and two guards. The third remains behind. I have no clue there the other men are, probably spread out in the building, watching for an ambush. The guard left with us is a pug-nosed, square-shouldered man of middling height in his thirties with thinning hair and an ugly scowl. He holds his rifle like he loves it.
I shift closer to Mom. “I’m going to do something,” I whisper in her ear. The guard glances at me, frowning. “When I do it, turn and run. Don’t look back.”
She narrows her eyes at me. She’s about to respond but I step away and shake my head.
“Stop that shit,” the guard barks, and Mom shuts her mouth.
But I can see the worry in her eyes. She doesn’t like this, not one tiny bit. She’s terrified of what I might do and I can’t blame her.
I plan on finishing this now.
I realized something last night. I realized that no matter what, I can’t live with myself if I betray Fynn. I’ll be a walking corpse, a zombie of my former self, just a rotten ghost still floating bodily through the world and waiting to move on. But I can’t just leave my mother in Cillian’s hands and let them do whatever they want to her in revenge.
Which means my only option is drastic.
Fynn comes forward, leaning heavily on his cane. A pulsing spike of excitement runs through me when his eyes meet mine for one brief moment. There’s so much in that look, so much I want back and so much I’m going to miss. I wish I could talk to him and tell him how sorry I am for leaving, tell him that I only did it to find out the truth about me, tell him that I fell in love with him and will always cherish what we had.
However brief, however crazy.
I love that man more than I’ve ever loved a living soul.