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I was his, and he was mine.

I was curled up in a corner of the sectional when he handed me the mason jar.

“What exactly are we celebrating?”

“The ledger you gave us, and Romero not being such a dickhead,” Cobra said.

I laughed and brought the jar to my mouth, regretting the decision to partake in this activity as soon as the moonshine hit my tongue.

“This is disgusting,” I sputtered, pushing the jar at Romero. “It burns.” I wiggled my tongue around, tasting nothing but rubbing alcohol.

“You can do better than that,” Romero challenged, nudging the jar back in my direction.

“Hold it for three seconds,” Grimm looked up from the ledger and advised.

“Ugh, fine.” I took the glass jar back and held my breath as I titled it back and counted to three. “Ah, how do you drink this?” I coughed, shaking my head and squeezing my eyes shut.

“You get used to it,” Romero said, taking the jar from me and passing it to Arlen.

“You didn’t drink any.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Then why did you tell me to?” I glared, wiping my mouth with the back of my arm.

“Maybe I want to see what drunken truths you’ll tell.”

Arlen snorted. “Not everyone has something to hide.”

“Everyone in this room does,” Grimm countered.

That was a sad goddamn truth and nothing good would come of it. Everyone knew that lies hurt, but secrets killed.

Sighing, I snuggled deeper into the leather couch cushion. Romero shifted beside me and lifted me onto his lap, placing my head on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe ya’ll left that man strung up,” Arlen mused from the opposite end of the couch, knocking her sip back like a seasoned pro. “What?” She shrugged when she realized everyone was staring at her.

“What else can you do?” Cobra inquired, leaning towards her.

“I’ll share mine if you share yours,” she teased.

“I’m almost positive you’re not old enough to drink,” Grimm scolded.

“I’m old enough to watch ya’ll turn the holy house into a snuff film but not take a drink of alcohol?

“And what happens after ya’ll take out David, anyway? Is this a revolution or somethin?”

“Don’t you have to give a shit about the people to start a revolution?” Cobra retaliated, stretching himself out and placing his sock-clad feet on her lap, taking the moonshine back.

“It’s the beginning of paradise.” Romero responded in his usual way of deflecting a question with an answer that wasn’t really an answer.

I frowned and stared down at the pentacle on the floor, asking myself once more what I was doing this for. I wanted Romero. I wanted to know him but he didn’t seem inclined to let me in, and if Tito ever popped up on his radar, I was certain he would kill him.

Everything was such a jumbled mess inside my head. When I got the jar back, I didn’t hesitate to drink that time. It tasted horrible, but misery loved drunken company.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed.