Page 6

Damien sucks on his teeth as his eyes drift from the gun to me as he puts the pieces together. "Was it Adrian?" he asks.

I smile. Marcus had the lawyer working for him, unaware that the man had suffered a great loss at his father’s fingertips. Big Al was known for killing anyone who he thought might rat him out, and Adrian's father was picked up with Big Al's drugs. Instead of helping him get the charges dropped, Al had him murdered before he even had his day in court.

It was easy enough for me to figure out; Marcus and Damien just never took the time.

Marcus welcomed Adrian to join their ranks without hesitation, going so far as to offer him his younger sister, Madi's, hand in marriage. And after Marcus was killed, Damien stillforced Madi to marry the man, all without checking into his background. Rookie mistake.

I admit, I did have the lawyer kidnapped and threatened in order to get him to switch sides, but semantics. I'll work on making that right after I handle my uncle.

"I knew I couldn't trust that bastard," Damien hisses. He sucks in another hit of cigarette smoke before dropping the bud and stomping it into the pavement. “You’re a little late, though.” A smug smile replaces his fury. “I already sent a man to the studio. John’s girl will be dead any second now.”

I shrug, acting nonchalant, even if inside I’m hoping that John doesn’t lose the only piece of happiness he’s ever had. "Answer one thing for me." I cock my gun, and Damien swallows, knowing his end is imminent. "Why'd ya do it?"

My uncle swallows and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. I wait patiently for him to spit out the answer, my gun still pointed at him.

"Your father wanted to run things differently," he finally says.

Anger boils in my blood. There's no grieving behind bars, not when you need to stay on your toes. And now, what should be sadness for my father’s murder has morphed into something ugly.

I swing my arm with rage, connecting the butt of my gun with his head. The collision creates a sickening smack that rings out in the alley, and my uncle drops to his knees, holding his head in the palms of his hands.

Something stirs in my chest. It feels good seeing him on his knees. Knowing that he's going to die and his last moments are going to be feeling my wrath.

My father wanted this family to be more than low-life criminals smuggling drugs and girls. He wanted to build up our legitimate businesses, create an empire.

And my uncles and aunts wanted to have girls coked up and dancing in strip clubs, where they could sell them to the highest bidders.

"And so he had to die?" I ask with a snarl.

Damien winces, looking up at me with bloody teeth. "He never would have listened to us."

"You're right," I say. "And now you'll die because of it."

Damien raises his hands, and I think he's about to plead his case, to tell me why his vision for this family is better than my father’s, but I decide I don't want to hear it. I wish I could elongate his suffering, make him spend eight months in a cell like I had to, but I have business to attend to, and I need to make sure Zoe and Madi are okay.

So instead, I press the trigger on the gun, the sound muffled by the attached silencer. The bullet speeds from the barrel and pierces my uncle right between his two bushy eyebrows. A dot of red forms in the spot and his body falls back from the force. He hits the concrete with a thud, his last breath whooshing from his chest.

Adrenaline courses through me from retribution served at my fingertips.

And vengeance feelsgood. Knowing that the men responsible for my father’s death will never breathe again feelsright.

A squeak pulls me out of my thoughts, my eyes darting up to the dumpster, where a dark-haired girl stands, lips parted and a bag of trash at her feet. Spinning around, she leaves the bag she dropped behind and begins to run, her sneakers smacking against the concrete as she goes. She slips into the back door of one of the businesses, slamming it behind her.

"Shit," I mutter, pocketing my gun.

I'm about to go after her—I can't have any witnesses after all—when my phone rings with a call from John.

"Yeah?" I answer.

"Sam, we have a problem."

FOUR

Olivia

The lock clicks into place and I slam my back against the metal door, my breaths coming out as harsh pants.

What the fuck did I just witness?