Standing, I lift my shirt to show the rest of it. The slash from my left shoulder to my right pec. “It did nothing. Ryan didn’t even flinch. Not until I knocked him out.”
“She died in Pacino’s arms,” Capone says. “He got her down and held her as she passed.”
“She came from the life. She at least understood the risks of what we come from. Phoebe doesn’t deserve this. It’s just to get to me.”
My hands shake as I stare at the paused image of her on the screen with a hood over her head.
“Don’t hate me for asking this, but how is your family still alive?” Kannon asks. “You didn’t kill them?”
“Or Joanna’s family didn’t?” Penn adds.
I shake my head. “The commission didn’t allow it.”
“The what?” Jethro asks.
“The commission oversees the major families. Keeps order. They dictate what can and cannot be done. They didn’t find retaliation beneficial, so her father, John, and I were told to fuck off, basically. Deal with it and move on.”
“Benito’s always been a wild card, but things have changed. The commission might be willing to allow revenge now,” Capone says. “My brother says they’re not particularly happy with your father.”
I glare at him. “You think I’m going to check with them? They don’t own me anymore. I don’t report to those motherfuckers.”
“But John could get his revenge. Let’s give him a call and haul ass to Vegas. He can talk to the commission, and if they say no, fuck it. Like you said, we don’t report to them anymore.”
The idea of talking to Joanna’s dad makes me anxious. I told him I wouldn’t stand in his way if he defied orders and took out my father. As long as he took Ryan with him. The only person off-limits was my middle brother, Tanner.
Tanner tipped me off about what they planned to do to Jo. Told me where to go. Gave me the last moments of her life. And he’s the only family member I’d consider talking to if it didn’t mean Father and Ryan would get involved.
“I’ll call,” Capone says, seeing the hesitation. “I’ll catch up. I know the way.”
All I can do is nod and head out to my bike with everyone else following. I need to get Phoebe back. And when I do, I’m never letting her go again.
Chapter Thirty
Phoebe
Idon’t remember when I fell asleep exactly, but I must’ve. I open my eyes and try to look around, but everything is dark.
The hood.
My arm aches. That’s what it was. I felt the needle prick before everything faded away. I have no memory of the drive to wherever it is I am, and I’m not in a car anymore.
I’m in a… bed?
Scotty.
Oh, I hope Scotty’s okay. And the bars! I hope Tucker got home before anything caught fire.
My nose itches, and I can reach it with my hands. Instead of zip ties like before, I have chains. Shackles. And my nose and mouth aren’t covered anymore.
I could take it off. Just rip it up over my head, but I find more comfort in the darkness. Whatever surrounds me feels safer if I can’t actually see it.
“Phoebe Phelps.”
I jump, realizing I’m not alone. The voice is unfamiliar and older. But deep. Almost as deep as Tucker’s.
“You are not my son’s type. He usually likes them dark-haired and the offspring of my enemies.”
Well, that’s kind of a blow to my ego. The insecurities I’d started to push past come back front and center. I know Joannaand I looked different, much like Queenie and I do, but it’s kind of a blow to hear that multiple people believe I’m not Tucker’s type.
