The shift is immediate. His jaw locks, his brows pulling tight. “None of your fucking business.” The crack in his voice slices through the air. I flinch before I can stop myself. He’s been smug, arrogant, possessive. But this? Ice-cold. I hit something buried deep.
I huff, crossing my arms. “Touchy much? It’s just a question.”
Cyan exhales through his nose like he’s grinding his teeth. “Yeah, well, some questions don’t have good answers.” I guess he has some demons there, but it doesn’t matter to me; it’s not my business. Cyan MacBrady is the man who kidnapped my grandmother and forced me into his world. Through his actions, I’m branded as the office slut. I’m not here to unpack his trauma. The car slows. Relief floods me when the building finally comes into view. Before the driver can move, I shove the door open and step out.
“Aria, wait.” My name stalls me mid-step. I turn slowly, my eyes meeting Cyan’s. He hesitates as if he’s about to say something else. Maybe an apology. But no, of course not, and I’m a little hurt.
“I’ll be out of town until Friday morning.” The controlling bastard is back. “Rosa will stay with you. You’ll take Friday off at lunchtime. There’s somewhere I want to take you. It’s already cleared with your boss.” And just like that, he reminds me, I’m not free; I’m not in control; this was never a conversation; it’s an order.
Tilting my head, I test the bars of the cage. Maybe the person who was eating breakfast with his family is in there. “And if I say no?”
“You won’t.” His tone is velvet-coated steel. “Because Aria I’m holding all the cards.”
The fucking arrogance. I force a cool smile, smoothing out every jagged edge inside me. He expects resistance. What he won’t see is the plan forming behind my eyes. “Sure thing, Cyan. Any other instructions I need to follow?” A flicker of something passes through his gaze. It’s impossible to tell.
“No, that’s all.” I don’t say another word as I walk away. But in my mind, the pieces are already moving. I have until Friday. That’s my window. Cyan will be gone. Rosa is the key. I’ll play along, let Rosa think I’ve accepted this situation. Let her lower her guard.
I’ll get her talking about Nonna, about where she is, about how they’re keeping her and if kindness doesn’t open a door. I’ll pickpocket her phone. I’m getting my grandmother back.
Twenty- Nine
“He built his empire with blood-stained hands. Tonight, I return every drop.” – Cyan MacBrady.
The East River glistens under the moon, silver light slicing across the restless water. Its reflection twists and fractures as the boat cuts through the water. Everything tonight is a reckoning. Lorenzo started years ago when he ordered the hit on my family. He took my parents and my sister, leaving me with ghosts instead of a childhood.
Collin, Troy, Thomas, Gabriel, Sebastian, and I stand on the deck of the weathered fishing boat. Shifting I hear my boots scuff the deck. I’ve prepared for this since that night so long ago when I set my childhood home on fire with my parents’ and Ciara’s bodies inside. Every choice, every kill, every scar has led me here, the first move in Lorenzo Rizzotto’s downfall.
“Let’s move,” I order as the boat docks. We disembark, boots carrying us down the pier. Tonight, we don’t wear tailored suits. Tonight, we wear torn clothes, our faces smeared with grime. If anyone sees us, they’ll forget us as most people instinctively avoid street dwellers. We slip into the alley behind The Vista. Lorenzo’s first restaurant, his most sentimental asset, and the heart of his money-laundering empire. A relic of pride–and tonight, the first domino to fall. Lorenzo still plays by the old rules. Still believes he’s untouchable. What he doesn’t know is that I rigged the board against him. The new DA and police chief are desperate for a headline. I fed them enough breadcrumbs to drag them here. They’ll never know I lit the fuse.
I turn to my brothers. “We sweep the building. Top to bottom, plant the explosives. Clean in. Clean out.” They nod, six killers fueled by retribution. A whisper echoes in my mind.Aria’s voice. How can you even sleep at night knowing someone died because of your choices?I made my choice long ago. But Chester’s blood is still warm in my memory. I won’t bury another family member.
I turn to face them. “Lads, we make it home. Every one of us.” A beat of silence follows.
Sebastian nods. “We’re with you, C… all the way. We all know what tonight means. No regrets. Only success. When the flames rise, we make sure Lorenzo learns what happens when you cross the Irish Fist.”
Thomas steps forward, his jaw set. “This isn’t just about blowing up a building. We’re ending what he started with our family.”
Troy snorts, rolling his shoulders. “Enough with the sentimental shit. The Vista is the first chain in the whole fucking necklace.”
Gabriel nods. “Cyan, your loss is our loss. We don’t forget. We don’t forgive.”
Collin cracks his knuckles. “We’re past the point of no return. If one of us falls tonight, that was our choice to follow you, C. Don’t start mother-henning us; it’s fucking annoying.”
Troy flashes a grin, the sharp glint of anticipation in his eyes. “C, there isn’t a chance of us biting the dust. Your plans always work.” He smooths a hand over his slicked-back mohawk. “Listen, if shit hits the fan, I’ll take a bullet… just avoid the hair, yeah?”
Cracking my neck, I let their words settle, grounding myself in their unwavering loyalty. A low chuckle rumbles from my chest. “Still a cocky peacock, I see.” I glance at each of them, one last silent exchange before giving orders. “Collin, Thomas, top floor. Gabriel, Sebastian, take the middle. Troy and I will take the first.”
We slip inside through the kitchen via the alley entrance using Jake’s override security code. The lock disengages with a soft click. Jake did his job well; the security cameras are deactivated.
Inside The Vista is eerily quiet. Troy and I move into the dining room, our weapons drawn. The cavernous space is hollow and stuffy. My gaze sweeps the room until it lands on the polished mahogany bar. A single untouched whiskey glass sits there. That’s all it takes; my photographic memory snaps the image into place. Lorenzo lifting a glass the first night he summoned me here, as the newly anointed Capo of Boston. The memory drags me under.
Lorenzo sat at the head of the grand table, his presence suffocating. I remember the way he looked at me, cold amusement lining his face swirling the same style of crystal glass in his hand.“Cyan, my boy,”he’d said, voice smooth and venom laced with mentorship.“You remind me of myself when I was your age–a man who understands that to rise, you must walk over the bodies of those beneath you.”I’d nodded, swallowing ash. I can still see the way he bragged about The Vista, how he killed the original owner when the man refused to pay protection, then bought the luxury waterfront property along theHudson River from his widow for pennies on the dollar. Now, the same glass sits there, waiting for a king who’s about to lose his kingdom.
A slow smile creeps onto my lips. Soon, these walls will crack under unforgiving heat as everything burns to cinders. Ruin, like my childhood home. Troy elbows me in the ribs, pulling me from my thoughts.Shit, I lost my focus.Turning to Troy, he jerks his chin toward the hallway behind the bar.
“C, voices, down the hall,” he whispers.
I give him the signal for us to check it out. We head in that direction, seeing light from the open wine cellar. I strain my ears listening to the conversation.
