Page 34 of Oblivion
I walked toward the cupboard on the opposite side of my office, just behind the door, where the notebook that was passed down to me from our previous Prez lay. I took it out from the first drawer, my fingers dragging over the worn-out brown leather.
In the past, I’d decided not to use the numbers stored here, because I wanted us to succeed on our own. But looking at those numbers, these contacts told me that I needed help. We needed help.
We needed alliances that could pull us out of this mess.
Every molecule in my body rebelled against the idea, but I had no other choice. The numbers written here were to be used only in situations where there was no other way out for Sons of Hades. My predecessors made sure that we would have a plan B if something like this happened, but I never thought I would have to use it.
My feet carried me back to my chair, my body slumping down as I finally sat, hating the weakness still coursing through my body. Logically, I knew that it would take me some time to get back to my full strength, for my muscles to recover, and for everything to go back to the way it was.
But the irrational part of my mind hated being this weak. It hated having to rely on other people when we were used to doing everything on our own. I trusted my men, but I still hated the fact that they all looked at me as if I were fragile now.
All of them except for Atlas.
He had a vendetta on his mind, and I knew that look in his eyes. I carried the same expression so many times over the years. I was worried he would do something reckless, something he would never be able to come back from, but I had no time right now to worry about him and his mental state.
I made a mental note to talk to him later about the things that were obviously bothering him, but we weren’t an emotional bunch. We never knew how to discuss the things that were eating us alive, and maybe that was the main problem.
Lack of communication.
Lack of understanding.
I vowed I would change that once I became the president, but I did nothing so far. I only added more oil to the already raging fire, and we were now in a situation where everyone walked around, ready to explode from the inside out. The things they weren’t discussing were bubbling inside their souls, threatening to erupt.
Opening the notebook, I shook my head, bringing myself to the here and now, trying to focus on the task at hand. We had a long road ahead of us, but the priority was healing the broken pieces of our club. Everything else could come later.
Faded pages in front of me held the numbers of people who could help us, but nothing came without a price. Everything we did in this line of work had consequences, and nothing was for free. I skimmed through the pages, looking for the one number I needed right now.
If they didn’t want to help us, then I would find another way.
With steady hands, I picked up my phone, tapping out the number left years ago. I just hoped it would still work.
I pressed the phone to my ear, hearing the ringing sound. One ring, two rings, three—
“Well, well, well,” a voice I had never heard before spoke, chuckling through the line. “I never thought I would see this day.”
“That makes the two of us,” I grunted, leaning into the chair. “Who am I talking to?” I asked, knowing that their leadership changed several times over the years as well as ours. The old bosses were no longer among us, and I hoped that the man on the other side would uphold the agreement our sides had made a long time ago.
“Nico.” He chuckled. “Nico Romano.”
Blood froze in my veins, but I swallowed down the words threatening to erupt. Nico Romano was now apparently the head of the Italian family, the strongest one, the powerful one we needed to get through this mess.
“Nico,” I started. “My name is Storm Knoxx, and—”
“I know who you are,” he said, amusement evident in every single word. “And I think I know why you’re calling.”
“Good, because we need to talk,” I murmured, hating myself for succumbing to this. “We might need your help.”
“I’m all ears, Storm. Talk,amico. We don’t have the whole night.”
What was I getting us into?
* * *
The throbbingin my skull was no doubt the result of my conversation with Nico. I didn’t like the man, but he did have a point—we needed each other if we were going to survive in this new world. The players on the chess board had changed, and if we didn’t work together, both of our families would fall down and crumble.
The only problem was the demands he had.
Blood for blood, he said, and like a stupid fool, I’d agreed because I saw no other way. Nico didn’t want money, he didn’t need more soldiers, he didn’t need protection. But he did need to strengthen his bloodline, and for that he needed me.
