“Neither was I,” he agrees, reaching down to take my hand. He curls my fingers with his and squeezes. I squeeze right back, offering comfort when he needs it most.
“But I do have some conditions,” I add, and Grey gives a low, refined chuckle in response.
“Such as?”
“Your mother’s head,” I offer up, and Grey pauses to think for a minute.
“I was going to kill her myself, but if the opportunity presents itself, then fine.”
I should probably be surprised that a man can so easily discuss murdering his own mother, but then, I grew up in this life, too, remember? Also, I’ve met the woman. She’s a fucking nightmare of a human being.
“What else?”
I take a deep breath.
“I don’t know how possible it is to sniff out the exact men—and I mean literally, the exact ones—who came to my house that day. But I want to know who they are so that I can cut their dicks off, slit their throats, and bury them in a shallow grave out back.”
“Mm,” Grey muses, nudging the camping lantern with one foot. “I know who they are: my father’s A-team, essentially. And I have good news for you: I have an idea of where they might be in the coming weeks.”
I look sharply in his direction, heart racing. Please don’t be bullshitting me, I think, trying not to get too hopeful. I want to kill these men almost as much as I want to be married to Beast. It’s that important to me.
“You better not be shitting me right now,” I warn him, but he looks over and gives an elegant shrug of one shoulder.
“Why would I lie about this? You want to kill them; I need them dead. Even if I were able to get to my father tomorrow and run a blade across his throat, what would it matter? These men would hunt me down like a traitor and bury me in the same grave.” He looks at me in the shadowy darkness, and I get this itchy, antsy sort of feeling, just like I did when I was in the room with Beast.
The world is on pause right now, but we’re about to hit play and move this shit forward—fast.
“So tell me,” I say, and Grey nods.
I’ll need all four men with me to get this done, that’s for sure.
I just need to hope that Sin and Grainger make speedy recoveries.
And not just because I need their help in this.
Because, even though it almost kills me to admit it, I need them.
I need all four of them.
Crown is waiting in the doorway to his—my—our—bedroom when I descend from the attic, leaving Grey behind so that he can have a moment to himself. Even when someone doesn’t love you, when someone isn’t the right fit for you, it still hurts to be rejected.
“Did mafia brat pull his dick out of his own ass and realize you and him were never going to be a thing?” Crown asks as I move past him into the room, and he closes the door behind me.
“You heard all that, huh?” I ask, and Crown grunts. I ignore him, sprawling out across the bed and frowning when I realize that this is a different blanket than before. “You took the ketchup blanket away,” I remark, but he ignores me.
“He’s no good, Gidge.”
“He’s our only chance to close this war with minimal casualties and walk away with the losses we’ve already suffered as our only sorrow.”
“Hate to tell you this and ruin the illusion, but the war is already on. Three more chapters of DBD are already on the way; the streets of this city are going to run with blood.” Crown crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against his dresser, watching me.
I can’t help but wonder what, exactly, he and Beast talked about yesterday.
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” I reiterate, sitting up and feeling my brows draw together in annoyance. “You realize that if we pit the might of the club against the might of the mafia, we all suffer?”
Crown doesn’t say anything, but I can see in the way his mouth tightens that he already knows that. He always seems to know what’s going to happen before anyone else does. “There were six Daybreakers outside of that house. And only then because Crown demanded it. Your father didn’t think we needed anyone at all.” Sin told me that, referring to the day my sisters were murdered.
This man is the voice of reason in the club; he knows I’m right, even if it’s hard for him to admit it.
“Well, that’s the way things are heading, and neither of us can stop it by wishing,” he tells me, releasing a heavy sigh. I notice that he keeps his distance from me, as if he might break if he gets too close.
