Page 19 of Violent Pawn

He grunts, his signal for not believing me, but throws one leg over the other. “What’s up with you lately? You’re concerning me.”

For the first time since his entry, I drag my gaze away from the list recently sent over by one of our drug suppliers, ready to listen to all the ways I suck.

“Ever since I went undercover to get into Vanessa’s world, you’ve been drinking more often. Not just more often, but more in a sitting. Is something wrong?” His gaze sharpens in warning—a look so infrequently directed at me.

I’ve been careful when my benders happen, so he’d never notice when the darkness got too shadowy. Plus, he’s correct. Before the Bratva’s proximity, I wasn’t in a state of constantly being reminded of my mistakes.

“Nothin’ like you’re thinking. As I’ve said before, I like Vanessa. The Bratva isn’t what we grew up hearing.”

He grunts in acknowledgment, but the sharpness in his expression doesn’t soften. “There’s more you’re not saying.”

There’s a lot more. Shit I’ll probably never be able to admit.

I glance at the door, imagining the bar and its liquor somewhere beyond it. It’s tempting to wipe this conversation from my mind, but it won’t be smart because I truly am training later this evening.

“Nero.” He snaps his fingers.

I need something plausible and maybe related, but nothing that’ll piss him off. I have no idea how my exhausted, hungover mind comes up with it, but the rambles pour from my mouth without further thought. “I’ve been thinking… You targeted Vanessa before understanding she had nothing to do with her padre’s choices, but it doesn’t change the fact that the Bratva is at fault for your padre’s death. The old leadership, anyway. Ursin’s gone. Ivan’s done for. But the former Elite members are still out there. You can’t say none of them weren’t aware of the attack.”

It was an excuse for my behaviours, but it was true. The old Elite who are still living could be punished, which may give me something productive to direct my attention to.

Zeno’s argument dies on his tongue as quickly as it begins, his mouth slowly and comically shutting. Realization settles him further backwards as his gaze grows distant.

A silent conversation seems to occur within him before he shakes his head. “It can’t matter,” he murmurs after a few more seconds. “I have to move beyond it, for my future with Vanessa. I can’t keep chasing the past, especially if it leads nowhere.”

But I need you to. Maybe, just maybe, if everyone involved in that day was wiped from the earth, I could admit my part in it.

Fuck, I need a drink. Instead, I inhale air, knowing it’s nothing close to what my body begs for.

“She’d understand,” I mutter in a last-ditch effort. “Bet she’d hand over the names of the old Elite. Didn’t she send them packing? I doubt she’d care what happens to them now.”

That sharp look is back as he straightens. “I’m done, Nero. Leave it alone. Will this be an issue?”

“No.” It’s the only response he’s looking for, so it’s the one I give, even if it’s furthest from the truth.

With a deep sigh, he lifts to his feet, one hand sliding into his pocket. “Good, because...” He tugs his hand back out, this time gripping a black ring box which he tosses my way.

I catch it with one hand, guessing what it’ll reveal before popping the lid to see an engagement ring made up of diamonds and rubies. The last time we spoke about this, he was having divorce papers drawn up to end the marriage we illegally signed her name onto, to tie her to him for his own gains. They formally divorced afterwards all so he could eventually ask her properly.

“Pulling the trigger again, then?”

He lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I love her and want it official again. After Sera’s wedding, the rest of the Cosa Nostra are aware of our relationship. They don’t like it, which is every reason to prove my seriousness about her and our alliance. Plus, word is, there’s cartel issues in the US, even while they’re vying for more Famiglia-controlled states.”

“Are the Romanos stupid? They can’t fight a war on both sides.”

The Romanos are one of the Five Families of the Cosa Nostra, based in the States. They control half, and the Famiglia has the rest.

“Which is why it’s more important than ever to establish that no matter what happens, we”—he circles a finger in the air, indicating him, me, and his branch of the organization—“are staying out of it. Regardless of what the Commission demands, I’m not joining the Romanos against the Famiglia, who have a truce with the Bratva. It’d turn ugly real fast.”

When Erico Rossi, the Famiglia Boss, murdered Ursin Volkov nearly three years ago, we expected a war between him and the Bratva. As the years under Vanessa passed, we learned she made peace with them.

“Rossi will crush them,” I comment the simple fact.

“Exactly, which means the Commission is more likely to encourage the rest of us to step in and help. Romanos versus Famiglia could go either way, while the entire Cosa Nostra against the Famiglia is something larger.”

“So you’re marrying your girl to avoid conflict.” An uncontrolled smirk creeps onto my face. “Romantic.”

He snags the ring box back, muttering something that translates to moron. “It’ll happen either way, but when organizations everywhere are gearing up for something, there’s no point in waiting. Life can be fleeting.”