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I’m going to shoot him.
I wonder if Dane would know how attached Charity is to her father. He could probably tell me whether killing the man would help my case or not.
“He was quite interested in what I had to say about you.”
Edmund sounds so fucking smug. He’s proud of himself for putting his daughter’s life in danger. “What did you do?”
“What I had to.”
“You fucking idiot,” I step into his space, towering over the little rat. How my Charity shares any amount of DNA with this little goblin is beyond me. “If he hurts her, I will kill you. In fact, I might kill you anyway, for all the shit?—”
“What’s this about?” The Father’s cold voice cuts through my words, making me turn my back on Edmund. I know the real threat here. “It isn’t like you to be so intimidating, Theodore.”
“I was out of line, Father. My apologies.”
His eyes sweep across my face, and I know he’s searching for a tell. He doesn’t trust me, and that isn’t a good thing. “If you continue to let your feelings for Edmund’s daughter affect your decisions, I will have to do something about her.”
My eyes cut to Edmund in time to see the blood drain from his face. Honestly, how did he think the Father was going to use her against me? “Understood, Father.”
“Good,” he claps his hands together, the sound echoing through the room despite it being full of people. “Now, I was just telling Edmund?—”
The lights cut, and the air fills with screams and the sound of gunfire.
It must be eleven o’clock.
It’s been three days, and I’m about to crawl out of my damn skin.
I left my phone at the house before heading to the Father’s soirée, knowing better than to take a phone to the Manor. If I had known shit would go sideways, and I would end up spending three days in the woods with no communication to the outside world, I would have found a way to bring the fucking thing with me.
Charity could be anywhere by now.
Sighing, I drop another crate of ammunition onto the shelf with more force than is strictly necessary. Merrick’s team brought everything into the woods, but they took severe hits, and I volunteered my team to restock. I told myself I was being helpful, but I just didn’t want to go home and see that Charity hadn’t even tried to reach out to me. I thought it was the best option, but now I’m questioning the decision.
“Seriously, boss, you owe me a fucking month of vacation after this.”
“We’re in the Mafia, Julius,” I roll my eyes, marking the crate with a black twenty-nine before shoving it to the back of the shelf. “We don’t get vacations.”
“We might get them now,” he shoots a bright grin in my direction, shoving his crate to the back of the shelf next to mine. “And if we do, I get first dibs.”
“What am I?” Victor demands from the opposite end of the loading bay. “Chopped liver?”
“Fresh meat, at least,” Julius jokes, flipping Victor off.
“You can both shut the fuck up and get back to work,” I snap, grabbing another crate off the ground and slamming it onto the table at my side. Ripping off the lid, I start sorting through the contents.
The guys are silent for a while, but I know it won’t last. Sure enough, Julius clears his throat after a few minutes. “Everything alright, boss?”
Annoyance cracks up my spine, but I force myself not to lash out at him. The guys aren’t used to seeing me at the end of my rope like this. I’m not usually at the end of my rope because the end has been safely stored away in New York City, one thousand six hundred and forty-two miles separating us. Now, she’s in my city and wants nothing to do with me.
“I’m fine,” I lie, dropping the lid back onto my crate. I move to take it to the shelf, but a hand on the top stops me.
“You’re not fine, and I don’t like it.”
“Well, it isn’t for you to like it or not, Julius. Just do your fucking job and go home.”
“To my wife.”
“What?” I snap, jerking the crate away from him.
