Page 25 of Shades of Loyalty
The families we’re connected to, whether in Chicago or elsewhere, never hesitate to eliminate anyone who poses a threat. But we’re not monsters.
Not completely, anyway. Maybe a little. We do kill if we feel like it. If we know it’s what we need to do in order to protect our people or our business.
But women who aren’t involved in the business? We protect them at all costs.
We're not the only family that does that. Many do. And we all understand why. Women aren’t meant to be harmed.We made sure every gang connected with us knows how serious we take this.
The little nightlight my mother gave them glows softly, casting just enough light for me to see them sound asleep.
I quietly walk up to the bed and sit down slowly, watching them. Jennifer is holding her little girl in her arms, which makes me smile.
It feels strange to just sit here and watch them cuddle, but it gives me a comforting feeling. The kind of comfort I didn’t know I needed.
The innocence of a happy, normal family.
An innocent family I couldn’t be a part of for a long time.
My parents tried their best to keep me out of the business, but let’s face it, even as a kid, you sense when something’s off. Kids might not know why exactly, but they know they’re not growing up like others.
I’ve always known, and now my goal is to ensure that the next generation growing up with us doesn’t know what exactly we do until they’re old enough. If I can achieve that... well, I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to ask my nephew when he’s older.
The whole "growing up differently" thing bothered me for a while, especially when I was old enough to understand. But then again, it was sort of fascinating as well.
And after a while, a few weeks after my father explained everything to me, I accepted it. I even liked it.
I loved the feeling of seeing other guys stare at me.
As a kid, it was uncomfortable. But once I understood why they stared— not because I was the only child around, but because they feared me—fuck, I loved it.
People’s eyes reveal many secrets, and as messed up as it sounds, I get off on the fact that people are scared to face me. Scared to face their death, perhaps?
But with Jennifer, it’s different. So fucking different.
When it comes to her, I’m torn. I see her as this beautiful woman who’s terrified, and I’m both attracted to her fear and sorry that she has to experience it. I wish I could protect her from all the hurt and violence going on in my world.
It surprises me that I don’t want her to be scared. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to be cared for, to be protected.
Back then, when I found out about the basement everyone went into, I begged my father to teach me everything about the family business. Just like Roy begged me to teach him. And fuck, did I love teaching this guy.
It’s a shame he’s gone—he was a good guy. Not just because he was a skilled hitman, but because he was someone you could sit and have a drink with after a long day. He had this calming aura.
It’s one of the reasons he was allowed to live here with us. Not many men working for, or with us, have the chance of visiting this building.
But Roy? My father took him in when he was just a homeless boy, left by his family. Roy grew up alongside me, though I was a little older. It never mattered.
Lost in memories, I sigh a little too loudly, enough for Jennifer to stir from her sleep. Shit. She’s supposed to rest. To sleep. To sort her thoughts.
Within a few seconds, she looks at me with these beautiful, yet tired eyes.
"Why are you here, Daniel?" she asks me, her voice still thick with exhaustion. I panic for a second before finding my composure. "I was about to go to sleep. Don’t worry. I just wanted to check on you and your little girl."
We fall into the most comfortable silence we’ve shared since we met. "Are you okay?" I ask her.
Her soft sigh says enough. She’sdefinitelynot okay.
"It’s…" She stops. "We shouldn’t discuss this in front of her. It feels wrong." Her hand gently strokes her daughter’s head. I nod in agreement.
"You’re right," I say. "We’ll talk later." I stand up to leave, yet I pause just before stepping out of the room.
