Lies.
One regret.
There’s fucking blood splattered all over her face. Too close.
We have a rule. The women never witness the violence of our lives. Never. The women could clean our wounds, but they never saw what we did to the other guy. That’s what makes the system work. And tonight, I broke that one sacred rule. Because she took the dog for a walk.
I can’t believe I was the one who broke the rule. Me. The fucking Heir Apparent to the Four Families.
We have to get out of the city, lay low. The cabin’s the best option because it’s off-grid and most of my enemies aren’t woodsy guys.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Of course she is, and she should be. But it’s my fault she’s even in this situation to begin with.
I don’t know how to feel. Conflicting emotions swarm around my head and heart. But the biggest one is fear. It’s the what ifs that are killing me. What if I didn’t get there soon enough? What if they killed her? What if they killed the dog?
The fear is too much.
What if she spirals or goes to the cops? What if she betrays me, my family, and brings the entire empire down?
What if she leaves me because I shot someone?
Shit.
The what ifs will drown me.
And none of this would have fucking happened if she had stayed in the house.
I’m busy checking to make sure we weren’t followed, trying to soothe my raw nerves. Enemies are everywhere. Is that really a mom in a minivan? Or is it a hitman sent to eradicate my family.
“Joey?” She says quietly with childlike ache in her voice.
“What?” The word sounds harsher than I intended, and in the corner of my eye, I see her flinch.
“Never mind.” She shrinks down in the seat and twists her fingers into knots, unwinds them, and starts playing with the hem of her shirt.
My fearless cozy girl.
I try the word again, softer. “What do you need?” Nope, I still sound like a dick.
“Nothing.” Her voice is even quieter than before.
“Are you hurt or scared?”
“Emotionally or physically? Self-inflected mental abuse? Or what the shithead did to me?”
My mouth fills with saliva, and the tension in my shoulders might snap me in half. I swallow and roll my shoulders back before saying, “Are you physically injured?”
“My throat hurts a little bit, but it’s nothing compared to what the Narrator Lady is saying to me.”
Narrator Lady?
Jenny shifts and glances out the window. “She’s using the same fuck you voice she uses whenever I screw up.” She mumbles, “I haven’t heard her this aggressive since I was a teenager. Something kinda nostalgic about that.” She’s quiet for a few minutes, but then… “But the fear is new.”
Be nice, be softer. "Those guys won’t bother you again.” Nope, that didn’t work either.
We hit three green lights in a row before she speaks again. “It’s not them. I mean, I’m pretty sure they’re dead. It’s you.”
