Page 16 of Fall Before Her Throne

Cas had to have seen it if he bandaged me and changed my clothes. I’d never let him see it before. I’d been so careful after I’d had it done. It was just mine. Just for me.

Another sentimental weakness that I’d grown to fear and regret.

The tattoo used to fuel me to follow through on my plans. To end Luciano. To fix our Family. To keep her safe.

It was supposed to be a memento, a reminder of them both once they were gone, tucked away in remote Alaska like I planned.

Now it just served as a reminder that things between us were irreparable. Not after what I’d done to her and Cas. They both deserved better, and she had found it with them, and that was all that mattered.

This tattoo would die with me, and that would be the end of it.

I dropped my head into my hands. Why did I say I wanted to stay?

She asked me to be honest, and I just…spoke. Whatever I felt about her didn’t matter. I didn’t deserve her kindness or her pity, and I probably never had.

So then why had I gone to her in the first place?

When I’d stumbled to their penthouse after being attacked by the Camorra, she was the only thing I could think of. Greco was after them, and I had to warn her, and my body had acted on auto-pilot to take me to her.

Before, at my house, everything had crumbled around me as all my plans fell apart, and now I had no idea what the fuck to do. I’d caused this problem with the Camorra; I’d opened the door for them to walk through—but I’d done it to keep Leona safe. To keep the feds off our backs. All my planning had amounted to nothing. I’d done my best to fix what Luciano ruined, and it had been working, but I damaged even more.

Maybe Cas was right.

Maybe I should have let them both in from the very beginning.

Maybe I had royally fucked up, and I’d spend the rest of my short, worthless life picking up the pieces. I could have given up, let Greco’s men kill me, but I’d heard her in my ear telling me to fight.

An unknown emotion rolled through my chest so heavily that I clutched at it. For the first time in fuck knew how long, I had visions of a future that terrified me.

Visions of what it would be like to get what I truly wanted.

Her. The girl of my childhood, grown into the woman who had become the center of my entire universe, no matter how hard I tried to keep her out of it.

Cas. My best friend. My brother. I carved him from my chest, but the gaping hole remained.

A family. What I’d been missing since I was orphaned at fifteen and twisted by my need for revenge.

Peace.

God, the idea of peace. It was mist, slipping through my fingers. Peace? In my life? Never.

She wouldn’t forgive me. I wouldn’t even forgive myself.

It was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

My thoughts ran away from me. Hope, such a dangerous fucking emotion, pulled apart the scar tissue in my chest and left it bleeding and wounded.

If…if somehow they decided to let me in, she decided to forgive me, would I even be able to live this way? With her and five other men?

I had no fucking clue. I’d never even allowed myself to dream about it. I’d shut down every thought, because otherwise it would have been too painful to let her go, to do what I had to do.

I groaned as I stood, my palm pressing into the bandages on my ribs. That fucking capo. Piero Greco and his henchmen could rot in hell. I was goddamn lucky the knife didn’t stab through my heart.

She’d told me to rest while they made a plan to fight back against the Camorra, but I was alive. I’d lived and fought through worse. These were surface wounds, and there was no reason I couldn’t be at that meeting.

I had no idea what I was going to do about my future, but this was where I had to start.