I want to burn the whole block down. I want every Bratva rat to choke on smoke and gunpowder. Instead, I drive away with blood on my hands and bile in my throat.
When the pressure threatens to crack me open, I slam my fist into the dashboard, splitting skin across my knuckles. Matteo drives in silence, his white-knuckle grip on the wheel saying everything.
I get the wounded to a safehouse and call our doctor, then make the call I’ve been dreading.
Lorenzo picks up on the second ring. “Alessio.”
“We had a problem tonight.” I fill him in on the attempted raid, Logan’s death, having to retreat. Each word feels like swallowing glass.
Silence. Then, “What the fuck were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that Lightning killed another kid last night. I was thinking that we had a lead on a dealer and we’re running out of time before the DEA?—”
“You think I don’t know that? You went in hot, got a man killed, and accomplished nothing.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. Logan had a wife. I’ll have to look her in the eyes tomorrow and explain why her husband isn’t coming home.
Ten more minutes of Lorenzo tearing strips off me, each word earned. When I finally get back to the club, Matteo heads out to check our other security points while I lock myself in my office.
The failure tonight has me on edge about everything. If I can fuck up that badly with a simple raid, what else am I missing? What if something happens to Nina and Austin while I’m playing soldier?
I sit there replaying the whole night. The door I missed. The cockiness that said we had it handled. Logan dropping. All of it.
“Fuck!” My fist cracks the desk.
A knock on my door interrupts the self-loathing. Starla pokes her head in, taking in my stormy expression.
“Everything okay, boss?”
I’m not about to tell her about the clusterfuck tonight. “Yeah, everything’s fine. How are things around here?”
“Everything’s running smoothly except for a no-show tonight. Nina.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
I’m out the door before Starla finishes talking, driving like the devil’s chasing me. I text Nina’s bodyguard, but I’m at her place before he can respond. His car’s still parked across the street.
The front door’s unlocked. Fucking unlocked.
I storm through, not bothering to knock on her bedroom door either.
Nina’s halfway across the room when I burst in. “Jesus, you scared me.”
“I scared you? Where the hell were you tonight?”
“I tried calling you, but it went straight to voicemail, and then I?—”
“You should’ve tried again. Or called the club.” My voice climbs with each word. “How am I supposed to keep you safe if you disappear?”
Part of me knows I’m being unfair, taking tonight’s disaster out on her, but I can’t stop.
“I have a bodyguard?—”
“You’re not taking this seriously.”
“How dare you.” Her voice goes cold. “I agreed to uproot my entire life because you convinced me Austin could be in danger. I let myself be followed around like I’m under surveillance. Don’t tell me I’m not taking this seriously.”
“Then why?—”
