Page 7 of Unfettered

“Flank Two, you’re good to go.” Marcus’s voice knocks me out of my thoughts, and I follow quickly behind Keegan as he leads us up to the house.

The sound of gunfire is loud in the otherwise quiet, tree-lined street, and I hope the cops stay away for as long as possible.

There’s a sound of crashing, and I catch the barest glimpse of fire out of the corner of my eye as someone tosses an incendiary device through one of the windows on the far side of the house.

Keegan and I provide support as our designated fire starter does the same on our side. More security than we anticipated pour out of the house, and I bite my lip, wondering if the Senator actually is hiding out in his public house. Leandro didn’t think so, based on what he learned from Lachlan during their time together, but that doesn’t mean much. The other man is as much on the Senator’s shitlist as we are right now, so anything could have changed.

“Fuck,” Marcus says in my ear. “Coming up behind you, Flank One.”

I hold my breath as a new round of gunfire rings through the air, while keeping my calm as I shoot the targets in front of me. They go down easily. I’d get more of a challenge at one of those carnival games, probably. It’s hard not to roll my eyes in disbelief. So much money wasted on private security, and access to trained men from his Family’s Organization, and this is the best he can do? I can only imagine the bitching Tennant is doing about his own target if this is the force we’re working with.

The gunfight begins to die down, and I’m handed a gas can. “Ready to start dousing the outside,” I say into the comms, getting an affirmative to the others with the same duty.

The smell of gasoline is almost calming, knowing how close we are to finishing this war. The Senator thinks he’s so clever, hiding behind his fractured Organization and his public service. He wants to paint us as the bad guys in the media? Wants to use his political power as a shield and pretend he’s better than us? We’ll show how shallow those shadows really are.

Fighting fire with literal fire.

“Let’s move,” I tell my men once I’m done pouring the gas, and the house fire is almost calmly flickering in the background.

Gunfire stops me in my tracks, and I turn just in time to see Cristian falling to the floor, as he and Keegan fire upon the two stragglers who must have been lying in wait.

The gas can drops from my hand and I shoot at the already-falling enemy, before crossing the short distance to where Cristian is lying on the ground at Keegan’s feet.

“Fucking hell,” I rasp as I reach him, my knees hitting the ground hard enough to jar my entire frame, but the pain barely registers.

“I’m fine,” Cristian grunts, sitting up.

I set a hand on his arm, barely able to see the wound because of his shirtsleeve and the poor lighting from the flickering flames of the house fire. I can feel the sticky blood flowing out of it, though. “Are you hit anywhere else?” I snap.

“My vest was,” he replies. “And I’ll be limping for a while because one bullet, maybe two, grazed my leg. Other than that, I’m fine.”

“We need to move,” Keegan says stiffly, before reaching down and dragging Cristian to his feet. My father hisses, but doesn’t protest as my…step-father?—I guess that’s what Keegan is now—supports him.

I don’t get to watch the grounds go up in flames as I stay on guard while Keegan escorts Cristian back to the van. Antonio and Benji join us, and my bodyguard forces me into formation behind Keegan and Cristian so he can watch my six.

I sit next to Cristian, after Keegan eases him into the van. Worry has a lump forming in my throat, and my hands shake a little as I try to clock any injuries in the light of the car.

“I’m fine, Figlio Mio,” he reassures me, reaching out and placing a hand over mine. “A little banged up, but that’s better than dead.”

Keegan scoffs. “I highly doubt I would have died.”

Cristian grunts. “They saw your focus was on Roman, and that’s not a censure. I am glad you had his well-being in mind.” He closes his eyes and lets out a long breath. “I know what you and Marcus think of me, and I don’t blame you. I deserve every bit of hatred you throw my way. But if I can save Carter from more heartbreak, I’m more than happy to. I love him, even if it wasn’t always in the way I was supposed to.”

No one has anything to say to that, and we travel back home in silence. I place my free hand on top of Cristian’s as a myriad of emotions flow over me: love, regret, hurt, gratefulness… So many feelings all at once for the man who raised me and turned me into the Boss I am today.

Our relationship might have fractured, and I may not know where I stand with him anymore—not after everything he put me and Carter through—but that doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving him. I just…wanted a father more than I needed a Boss, and I’m not sure how to get that back again; or if we ever really had it. It’s a hard realization to have, and one that’s made it impossible to bridge the chasm between us or figure out if I even want that.

We’re almost back at the house when everything goes wrong.

Cristian’s hold on my hand loosens, and I look at his face, noting his color is off and his breathing has turned into pain-filled wheezes.

“Dad?”

“Fuck!” Keegan dives across the vehicle and starts ripping at Cristian’s vest and clothes, exposing a wound that's ripped through my father’s side, just under the strap of his bulletproof vest. Blood steadily leaks out of the literal hole in him, and a keening whine can be heard before I realize it’s coming from me.

Keegan puts pressure on the wound, and while I know I should be doing something, all I can think, as my father’s face loses all color and his breathing shallows, is that I’m not ready to lose him.

Our relationship may be fractured, but he still is, and always will be, my dad.