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“Trust.” I slapped Ash on the back. “If I can take care of your kids with Bella and not end up in prison, I can handle doing the whole welcome to Eagle Elite, try not to shit your pants talk. Plus, last year, I made two guys cry and ended up winning the bet.”
Ash rolled his eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see.”
He walked off, probably in search of his wife and I kept walking, only to get grabbed by Junior and shoved toward the basement. “We need to talk.”
Nothing would or could have prepared me for his version of a talk.
An hour later, my hands shook when I crawled into the bed in one of my favorite guest rooms, not even pissed that Bella was already laying in it.
I felt like I was going to throw up.
I could barely swallow.
Hot tears slid in rapid succession down my cheeks as I stared down at my blood-stained hands. It wouldn’t wash off; he said it was better that way.
It was better that we had proof.
It was better.
That’s all he kept saying when he handed me the knife and made me swear fealty to him. Had the bastard been preparing me for this moment? Was my fucked-up training for this end?
That’s what he said when he smiled and choked up blood all over the floor while I hit him.
“Thank you,” was how he finished our talk as he collapsed against the ground and whispered, “You swore.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“Good.” He coughed. “Time is fleeting, isn’t it?”
More tears ran down my cheeks until my body started shaking. He told me too much; he told me things I didn’t want to know. He burdened me in one hour with the weight of the world and the Five Families.
And then I did what he asked.
I killed him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Death has a way of numbing us all, but in death there is always resurrection, and sometimes that resurrection is the last thing you need.” —King Campisi
Bella
I was grumpy when I got up. The house was quiet, too quiet, and Ivan was on the ground staring at his hands like he was high or something. Did he really go find some weed?
“Yo!” I threw a pillow at him. “What’s wrong? You look like someone died.”
I laughed.
He didn’t.
His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a wreck, small specks of blood littered down his chin. “Do you trust me?”
“Not when it comes to your behavior, no, but if a gun was pointed at our heads, do I think you’d take the bullet for me? When it really came down to it? Yes, I think you would, because you aren’t that horrible of a person.”
He choked on what sounded like a sob, then turned toward me, his eyes were steely, resolute. He changed in one second, became a completely different person, and stalked over to me. “Do you trust me?”
“You’re officially scaring me.” I backed up. “Why are you covered in blood?”
“Answer the question.”
