Both men are looking at King to already make the heavy decisions, ones I know will weigh on his soul for an eternity—I want to stop him, I want him to run away. But I know this is his destiny which means it’s also mine.
King doesn’t even blink as he says. “If they’re of no use to us, then they’re of no use to the universe. Slit their throats.”
I hold my gasp in.
The rest of the room goes still.
Andrei holds out his hand as Maksim, his son, hands him a blade and, in two swift movements, slits both of their throats. Blood spills. And it’s suddenly over.
“Now clean up the bodies.” King stands to full attention. “Everyone is now suspect.”
I freeze.
He makes an announcement that I know we may never come back from and says, “From here on out. Everyone”—his eyes roam the room—“is now my enemy.”
Slowly doors open around the house, and men in suits come in. Some have FBI on their jackets; others are in black suits and look like the president’s personal security.
“Until we know who and why,” he announces in a strong voice, “everyone’s on house arrest. Hope you like fucking DoorDash.”
He grabs my hand as everyone gapes up at him like he’s lost his mind, and we start slowly walking down the stairs.
The group parts, I can see the rage on Ash’s face, Junior’s, the betrayal on Valerian’s, but I also understand it.
Because as of right now.
We’re living in our own version of dark Clue, where we have no idea who attempted to kill and no clue how to flesh them out.
We pass Phoenix and Andrei, who look way more relaxed than they should. They’re both drinking what looks like whiskey and talking in hushed voices.
I frown when King stops in front of them on the way to his dad’s old office. They both nod slowly, then open the doors and follow him in.
Nixon and Chase are next.
Sergio.
And then, to my shock, I see Valerian, Ash, Junior, and Tank go right behind them.
Basically, the most powerful men are all in one room.
And I have to wonder if that’s a good thing.
Or will it lead King to his doom?
I want to follow, but Serena grabs my arm and tugs me back, shaking her head slowly. “Let them talk.”
“But what if—”
She shakes her head again. “It wasn’t us. I know he knows that. Someone’s toying with the Families, but until we find out who, it’s best to make it look like he suspects one of our own.” She whispers in my ear, “Let him lead the way it needs to be; some things need to look… a certain way to find the mole.”
My chest gets tight. “You think there’s a mole?”
She blinks twice, slowly.
“Okay.” I sigh. “Okay, so what do we do until we can figure this out?”
“Hey, anyone want to play charades?” Tiffany shows up and does a little jig like the world isn’t actually exploding around us, then frowns. “What? I thought it would cheer everyone up?”
“God, Tiffany,” Roman says, coming up next to her. “Read the fucking room!”
“That’s what I got charades for,” she whispers back, then elbows him in the ribs, and I almost laugh as the rest of the wives disperse around the house; okay, let’s be honest, they all seem to be going into the kitchen busting out more wine bottles than I can count. The rest of the kids are getting herded into the movie room, and I’m left there wondering how this will end.
Will it end how it began?
In heartbreak?
Death?
Or can he fix it?
I look over at the office door and say a small prayer for him. He has to. And I believe he can.
Because he’s a superhero.
He’s a king of old.
He slays dragons.
He’ll find this one.
I just know it.
Because if I don’t have my belief in him, what do I even have?
Chapter Thirty-Four
“One day, a King will come, and the Sword will rise… again.”—Excalibur 1981
Roman
I hate this.
I hate how selfish I actually feel right now that while our Capo may never open his eyes again— I’m thinking of her, that all I can think about is my hands around her waist, and then weirdly, I imagine him with her.
King pressing his mouth to hers, a mouth that should be mine.
I’m so conflicted because I actually don’t hate him for being a fucking good leader. I just hate him for wanting what’s mine or what I thought was mine.
I’m so confused.
I stand watch at the theater room, guarding the rest of the cousins, who are watching Encanto and singing—the bosses made it clear not to tell them what was going on; according to them, it’s a weekend-long slumber party.
Do they really think it’s only going to take a weekend to find the culprit? The only enemy the Families have ever truly had, other than the Russians, has been the De Lange Family.
Are they behind this?
I feel suspicious of everyone. I also feel like something’s off. Who would dare attack the Capo’s wife? It would be like watching the Godfather movie only to see the main characters die within the first five minutes.
You’d have to have balls to do that, and you’d have to have a plan, which means you have participants, you have men and women behind you, but who has that much pull? It would take a lot of money and power in order to even get something like that started, and it would take more than months, possibly years.
I frown and then look down at my phone and send a quick text to King.
Me: Hey man, I have an idea… it could be shit, but…
The door to his office jerks open. “Get in.”
“But I’m watching the—”
“Lance,” he yells at another guard by his door. “Watch the theater room?”
“Whatever you say, boss.” A young guy with blond hair whistles as he walks by me smiles, and takes up guarding the door. He has an FBI jacket on, and I kind of want to punch him in the face; maybe it’s the dimples, or maybe it’s the fact that he looks way too smug on such a dark day.
“Keep them safe.” I jab him in the chest and shove him against the door.
He holds up his hands. “No need to get violent.”
“I’ll show you fucking violent if any of those kids are hurt.” I shove him again because I can and because rank-wise, he has shit on me, and then I walk into King’s office and nearly shit my pants when I notice all of the bosses are still there.
Ties are in disarray.
Alcohol is everywhere.
Shirts are all open, jackets long lost, and I notice even Ash is just sitting on the floor, his head in his hands while Junior pours him a drink and then holds the bottle to his mouth.
So, things are clearly worse than I thought.
Maksim seems to be the only one focused—he’s still wearing his black suit and is pacing—even the older bosses look ready to take a year-long nap.
“Wow, so this is cheerful,” I say.
Chase actually flips me off, which is terrifying. Doesn’t help that both Dante and Dom laugh like it’s funny when I’m ready to run in the opposite direction.
Why are all the bosses and made men insane? Why?
Phoenix and Andrei stare at me like they’re plotting my murder in their heads in graphic detail, like very graphic detail. I wouldn’t be surprised if they somehow found a way to bring back a T-Rex and are imagining its tiny arms ripping off my head and tossing it to a wooly mammoth just to see how long it takes for me to digest.