Page 16 of Chains of Recompense
“You all right?” I ask quietly.
He shrugs. “Getting there.”
“How’s Evi?”
That earns me a real smile. “Stronger than I am, somehow. She’s resting. The doctor says she and the babies are healthy.”
Babies. Plural. Twins, just like me and Sandro.
When he told me about it, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
It’s a miracle, after everything they’ve been through.
A part of me is jealous—not in the way that wants what he has, but in the way that grieves what I’ll never get back.
My wife and I talked about children once.
Genevieve would have made a good mother, though I’d hesitated to bring children into my father’s world.
And now, we’ll never have the chance.
That’s the kind of thought that can rip a man apart if he lets it linger too long. So I don’t.
“I’m glad,” I manage. “You deserve something good, Brother.”
His eyes soften. “We all do.”
“So, what now?” Miko cuts in.
“We take our time. We plan,” Sandro says, his eyes holding mine. “We rebuild. We find out who can be swayed to support our cause.”
I raise a brow.
Sandro’s always been the one to throw himself into a fight headfirst.
Now, he sounds more like… well, me.
And I can’t quite put my finger on why that bothers me. Perhaps it’s because he’s always been the best of us.
I don’t want to drag him down with me.
So I can’t help but razz him. “And how do you suggest we do that? Send out invitations to the next massacre?”
He doesn’t answer, because we all hear it at once—a low rumble of engines approaching from the main gate.
The guards out front start shouting.
Miko’s hand goes to his gun. “Were we expecting company?”
I shake my head, glancing outside. “Not unless the pizza I ordered comes with an armored convoy.”
Sandro moves toward the window again, peering through the curtains. “Irish.”
Looking over my twin’s shoulder, I recognize the vehicles.Speak of the devil…Our unexpected guests aren’t just Irish. “It’s the Murrays.”
The name alone tightens the air in the room. Miko and I share a glance.
Maybe Sandro’s determination that they would come around isn’t so ill-placed, after all. Still, I can’t stop the bitter taste that floods my mouth.
