“Even if you give him Elena back, he won’t agree to a ceasefire. Anthony isn’t like his father. He isn’t reasonable. Elena running off is an embarrassment to his family. He’ll serveher the worst fate you could imagine and want to make an example of our family. He wants Vegas for himself. I don’t even know if we could have ever truly had peace. I think he just wanted Elena off his hands,” Lorcán throws out.
Finn stares down at Declan before turning to face our half-brother.
“So you’re saying no matter what we fucking do, we’re going to be at war with the Amantes?”
“No matter what we do,” Lorcán confirms.
Finn looks at all of us and then at Rory’s bleeding hand. I wonder if he’s going to call our father, but I doubt it. As much as our old man can be a micromanager, as of late, he’s really been loosening the reins. He even started spending more time in Ireland than he does here.
He wants us to prepare for taking over the empire, and part of that means making decisions without seeking Daddy’s approval.
Finn clicks his tongue.
“Then let’s send our own message. Dec, do you still have that contact at the morgue?”
“Aye.”
“Call them, and let’s go,” he snaps before looking at Maeve. “Will he be alright?”
“Yes, but I’m not cleaning up all this blood,” Maeve snarks back.
Finn looks to Declan, who shrugs. He knows there’s no controlling his ma’.
When we get to the garage, Cian, Tadhg, and Cormac are waiting in two separate SUVs. We split up, Declan and Lorcán taking one car while Finn and I take the other. With the four-car caravan in place, we make our way to the morgue.
He rubs his scarred jaw the entire ride.
I refuse to fucking apologize for how everything went down. No matter how we went about the Elena situation, Anthony was likely planning on attacking and not fulfilling his end of the contract.
The contract had been in place for nearly four years, set up between Elena’s father and my own. No one could have expected the man to die as early as he did. The plan was to wait ‘til Elena was ready and then make it more natural. Matteo would give Lorcán permission to pursue her, and then he would introduce her to us. Matteo may have been a lot of things, but he clearly knew his daughter well enough to know she would need to find a pack on her own terms.
“What are you going to do?” I ask Finn, who is radiating pissed off energy. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found him beaten to shit tomorrow morning from participating in an underground fight.
“Sending him a piece of his sister to send a message.”
I know he’s obviously not sending any part of the real Elena to Anthony because we’re headed to the morgue. Plus, my brother may be a lot of things, but hurting an innocent Omega isn’t something that he’s capable of.
“Don’t you think that might make things worse?”
He spins to look at me, his gaze filled with frustration and anger.
“How can things get worse? I’m being forced to bond with an Omega I don’t want—that my two brothers seem fucking hopeless for—who’s my fucking scent match. I have an angry Italian shooting at my men, making demands. And worst of all? I had absolutely nothing to fucking do with it. I told Da’ it was a bad idea to get involved with the other families, that we should have just stayed in our lane, but no. Now, here we are. Rory’s missing a fucking finger. The Omega is working at a sex club, and we’re on our way to the fucking morgue.”
I let Finn finish his dramatic monologue, leaving him in silence to calm down a little before I finally speak.
“You don’t have to bond with her to be pack, and you know this. Don’t act like you’re completely indifferent. We both know that’s a lie, brother. Not even you are strong enough to deny your scent match.”
He says nothing as we continue our drive.
Suddenly, the SUV that Cian was driving explodes in front of us. The boom is loud, and the blowback from the explosion rattles the car around us. Tadgh pulls over, all of us exiting the vehicle and watching as it burns, knowing it signifies the start of a war.
Not only did Rory lose a finger, but Anthony just killed a good man. Cian only just turned twenty-five. He didn’t deserve this.
We’re looking around the freeway when a loud pop hits my ears, and pain radiates through my thigh.
Finn helps me to the ground as I watch blood drench my pant leg.
“Motherfucker,” Finn hisses, taking off his belt to use as a tourniquet.
