Shatter before my very eyes.
“WHY!” Chase screamed. “Ti Amavo! Ti Amavo!” he roared it over and over again.
I loved you. I loved you.
“Io, sono morta.”
I am dead too.
El ducked her head against my chest and sobbed.
And I watched.
I watched a man unbecome.
And I knew, nothing would ever be the same.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
El
I DIDN’T LET go of his hand the entire ride back to the house.
The women were lined up outside waiting.
Every man limped out of their cars, dripping in their own blood, blood that Dante had no choice but to spill.
I know why he did it.
It was the only way out.
In.
And each of them were thankful in their own way, you saw it in the way they suddenly looked at him, like they should have never doubted his loyalty, his honor.
I felt it in the way he walked, his head tall, his shoulders heavy with guilt, with the hard thing he had to do to the very people he vowed to protect.
This was our future.
These were our moments. However short and violent.
They were ours to hold, ours to keep, ours to treasure until more war. But at least we had them, and at least we were together.
Mo ran into Tex’s arms and kissed his face.
Trace held out their child to Nixon who grinned and squeezed his baby girl so tight she didn’t stop giggling.
Frank kissed Trace on the head while Bee launched herself at Phoenix and spoke softly to his face as she held their boy to him and pressed a kiss to his mouth.
I watched as everyone celebrated.
I watched as everyone waited.
And my heart broke when Chase, slowly, got out of the SUV.
Without Mil.
Without his heart.
Missing his very soul.
Mo gasped and covered her face with her hands while Bee started sobbing in Phoenix’s arms.
And Trace.
Trace ran.
She ran so fast, so hard into Chase’s arms that he fell over backward. She held his face between her hands forcing him to look at her. “This is not your fault.”
“Trace—”
“Look at me!” Chase closed his eyes. “Fucking look at me Chase!” She yelled beating his chest with her fists.
He opened his tear filled eyes.
“This isn’t your fault.” She said it over and over again, and kept saying it until Chase broke in her arms, until a part of the man came back, until emotion filled his cracked voice. She rocked him in her lap.
Nixon handed his little girl to her grandpa.
Walked over to Chase.
And wrapped his arms around both Trace and Chase while Chase continued to cry.
I’d never seen a man so broken.
I clung to Dante harder while he swore under his breath.
“You did what you had to do,” I spoke against his chest, needing to feel his heartbeat against my face. “I’m sorry, I was trying to help her, I didn’t know she would try to take me, I had—”
Dante pressed a kiss to my mouth. “This wasn’t on you, El. This death, this betrayal…” He shuddered. “It was on us.”
“But—”
“Us,” he repeated firmly. “This is something we should have stopped, something that could have ended very differently, all right?”
I nodded and clung to the front of his shirt. The sound of Chase’s guttural sobs were the only thing filling the air.
Dante frowned, and stopped walking with me, then turned on his heel and walked right up to Chase and said. “She gets a real funeral.” He looked around to all the shocked faces. “As far as anyone knows, she died with honor, no double crossing, we keep this quiet — not for us — but for Chase. Agreed?”
More silence.
And then Tex pulled out a blade and sliced across his palm and held out his hand to Chase.
Chase took the knife with shaky hands, slid it deep across his palm, and slammed his hand against Tex’s as he pulled Chase to his feet.
Nixon pulled Trace away, and slowly people gave him space, until it was just Sergio standing in front of him.
The one man who knew pain like no one else.
Who lived to tell about it.
Who got a second chance even though he didn’t deserve it.
It was hard not to watch the silent exchange between them, the haunting moment when cold ruthless Sergio pulled Chase into his arms and whispered something in his ear, refusing to let go of him.
“Let’s give them time,” Dante grabbed my hand. By the time we made it inside, there were at least ten bottles of wine scattered around Nixon’s table.
Frank was already on what looked like his second glass.
We surrounded the table.
Frank lined shot glasses in the middle.
Filled them with vodka.
Then did the same with wine glasses.
One for each of us.
And then left three empty wine glasses, three empty shot glasses in the middle of the table.
He raised his shot. “To the fallen. Blood in. No out. May you find peace, Luca Nicolasi, Andi Abandonato, Mil Abandonato.”
With shaking hands I took my shot and then held my glass and sipped.
Nobody told me this life would be easy.
Nobody told me it would break my heart.
I leaned against Dante, I needed him more than I needed my next breath, I needed a reminder that there was more than death, more than blood.
I didn’t realize I was crying until Chase locked eyes with me as if he was sorry I had to share his pain.
As if he wished he could take it all so none of us would have to feel even a fraction of what he felt.
But I couldn’t help it.
So much death.
When does it stop?
“Everyone,” Tex cleared his throat. “Tonight we drink, tomorrow we rest.” He sighed and clasped hands with Chase. “Tomorrow night, we make arrangements.”
Sergio slowly pulled out a few med kits and started sewing up whoever needed sewing up, the shocking part was that he was able to even do it with a gunshot wound that still bled through whatever bandage he’d already put on it.
“Medical school.” Val sat down next to me and watched her husband with terror filled eyes. “I could have lost him.”
“But you didn’t.” I put my hand in hers.
She blinked back tears and nodded. “I know. It’s just… it hurts to know it happened within these walls.”
She said what everyone had been too afraid to admit out loud.
Sergio stopped his sutures.
Nixon shared a look with Tex.
And everyone fell quiet.
Chase was already on his next glass of wine and well on his way to being drunk so I hope he hadn’t heard it.
A loud banging had me shooting up from my seat just as the door to the garage opened and Nikolai made his way through clutching a woman’s’ hand. She was gorgeous with dark jet-black hair and model like features.
She looked like she belonged on Vogue. Not in our living room.
“I came as soon as I heard.” He dropped her hand as she walked around and hugged Sergio, like she knew him. I frowned. Nikolai must have seen it, he made his way toward my seat and knelt down. “I am sorry.”
“What?”
“Sorry you must stay in this life.” He spoke slowly. “And stop staring at my wife like she’s the enemy, she’s no more Petrov than you are.”
“Petrov?”