Page 115 of Severed Heart (The Ravenhood Legacy #2)

Chapter Fifty-Nine

T YLER

B LINK .

Palming the tile, streaming hot water pelts my back where I stand beneath the shower head in an attempt to cleanse myself, body and mind , of the last few days due to my latest mission.

Intent on calming or, at the very least, muting all lingering restlessness, even as a flurry of activity takes place down the hall.

Judy Garland croons throughout the house as my mom helps Delphine put up some last-minute decorations to add to the already festive, cozy décor while covertly helping me make sure Delphine doesn’t burn the turkey.

Not just for our selfish sakes but for her own due to the amount of time she’s spent in preparation.

Despite her rapidly deteriorating health since Thanksgiving, she’s mustered an inhuman, determined amount of energy, transforming our house into a twinkling, glittering haven of comfort.

Her finishing touches include three old-school sock stockings, our names freshly embroidered on them where they’re strung alongside our antique-stove fireplace. The stove currently houses a low-lit fire, completing her ideal picture while chasing out any winter chill.

Outside, I can faintly hear Zach enjoying the hell out of his early Christmas present from Delphine, who gifted him the keys and ownership of her Ranger.

Though it stung to see her relinquish them and pass on the gift, it was a moment to witness as Zach’s eyes lit up, but not on the Ranger, on Delphine.

I could see it then—his need to embrace her in some way in gratitude, but even better, his desire to do it, though he’s not quite there yet.

It’s been a cumulative mix of peaceful and hellacious months, but with Delphine’s latest brainchild hatched, as of this morning, we’ve maimed Miami in a way they aren’t going to recover from anytime soon.

In fact, I’m certain that any move Miami ponders on making now, they’ll be second-guessing, rethinking, and most likely shitting their pants before carrying anything out.

In addition, her latest scheme brought a much-needed break for our club and exhausted Ravens.

The brilliant strategy my general came up with derived from an interaction Tobias recounted, in painstaking detail, only once for Delphine and me about what transpired the night Dom died.

The exchange between Matteo, Andre, Dom, Tobias, and Cecelia.

An exchange in which Delphine had memorized and concocted a revenge plot consisting of the things typical in drawing out the evils of most men—money, greed, and power.

Our temporary solution laying within Andre’s own spoken confession of ‘things getting a little too light down south.’

In ruminating on that, Delphine decided we should finally share some of our hard-earned wealth in her devised game of tit for tat.

To lure in and sprinkle some of our blessings to Miami’s most desperate and bloodthirsty bottom feeders.

To those who get crumbs of intake from the lion’s share—and are treated with the least respect—to do our bidding .

And because Miami so effectively fucked with our club’s morale in tit , she decided we should deliver just as effectively in tat .

It took a little time, but together, Tobias and I lured in the lowest on Miami’s totem pole and offered them a small fortune to flip on their own to deliver some epic payback.

I was wary of the plan at first. However, fifteen of Miami’s runners and mistreated gophers flipped on them overnight.

Not only giving us intel but taking a few of the raven-inked defective out with our offered added bonus.

Ultimately, it turned out to be the best money our club has ever spent.

The best part? Tobias and I made calls after boarding our plane home to the personal, private cell phone numbers of those now highest in their ranks while they were in the midst of actively plotting against us.

Once they answered, we were both able to wish them a heartfelt Merry Christmas, our calls ending as Ravens blew holes through their front doors before spreading the rest of our Christmas cheer.

Not only was her tactical plan fucking brilliant, but it ended up in a lot less bloodshed for our Ravens as Miami practically slew themselves.

The downside is that when they finally do sum up the nerve and come back for us, we know they’ll make it hurt.

But this is war, and with blinks of Dom still heavily flashing through my mind and his words in my psyche, regret and remorse will never factor in.

Rinsing off, I step out and grab a towel as my phone rumbles with a message.

Checking it for the first time in months without apprehension, I make quick work of dressing before setting off to join the festivities.

Pausing my footing at the end of the hall, just a step outside the living room, I spot Mom opening a familiar box and retrieving my cotton ball ornament before presenting it to Delphine.

“I was always going to gift this to him when Tyler made his own family,” Mom relays, emotion clear in her voice. “These are yours now.”

Delphine bites her lip at the sight of it before she speaks.

“Oh, Regina, I appreciate this. But it’s clear you have so much pride and mother’s love for him, and why you want to rid yourself of it because this is ugly .

” She tosses her head back at Mom’s answering frown and laughs, and I join in.

Delphine’s eyes widen as she turns and sees me, her expression dimming with a little guilt. “I was joking, Sold—”

“Oh, no,” I quip, loving that she’ll forever remain her brash self in any situation. “You can’t take it back now that you’re busted”—I stalk toward her—“and I was five when I made that, you asshole. ”

“Five or not, you’re going to ruin our beautiful tree when you hang that monstrosity.

” She extends it toward me, covering her eyes with her free palm.

“But I love you enough to suffer if you hang your ugly ornament.” Mom laughs at this, staring between me and Delphine, eyes softening at our back and forth as I give as good as I’m getting.

“I never claimed to be Picasso, just like you can’t claim to be an Iron Chef.” Delphine lowers her palm to glower at me as I wink at Mom. “But if my mommy says I’m talented, I believe her.”

“You better take that false confidence because I won’t be encouraging you to paint or participate in any other artistic endeavor,” she jokes before taking more decorations out of Mom’s offered box and unwrapping one surrounded by tissue.

“Oops, that’s baby’s first ornament,” Mom says, snatching that one back. “It’s a mother’s right to keep this one,” Mom joins the razzing, darting her eyes between us. “So, let’s not make this fight physical because I will,” she warns playfully as a knock sounds on the door.

“Uh, oh, we locked Zach out,” Delphine says as she walks over with a wince. Opening it, she stiffens in surprise when she sees a Marine dressed to the nines in his blues on the other side.

“You’re not Zach,” she chuckles as he grins down at her. “Soldier,” she calls, glancing back at me. “I think it’s for you.”

“Actually, Delphine,” he replies, “I’m here to see you.”

“Me?” she says, glancing back at me in confusion before addressing him again. “Here for me, why? Who are you?”

I can’t help but chuckle at her frank candor and reception. He grins down at her before spotting me over her shoulder. I grin back, giving him a shrug and ‘good luck, pal’ eyes.

“Well,” he chuckles in amusement, and I can tell she’s intimidated him a little, which is comical because he’s a good foot and half taller and is currently towering over her. “I’m First Sergeant Eric Shultz, and this,” he says, extending a neatly pressed jacket to her, “is for you.”

“Shultz,” she mimics, very familiar with the name. “You are here for me?” she repeats, darting her eyes over her shoulder to me before turning back to him. “I know who you are.”

“Likewise, I’ve been anxious to meet you for some time now, and it’s the reason I’m here. Today, I came from Albany, New York, to thank you for saving my life.”

The air tenses briefly as he stares down at her, his expression sincere as shock registers in her posture.

“You came from New York? ... But I-I did no such thing,” she argues, though I can hear the effect of his words in her voice. Already armed and ready for her objection, Shultz pulls up his cell phone.

“This is my daughter, Amy, and I almost didn’t get to be her father.” Delphine takes the phone, stares down at the picture, and studies it for long seconds, which I know she’s using to gain her composure.

“She’s beautiful,” Delphine says.

“She is, and thanks to you, I’m going to help her blow out her fourth birthday candle next week.”

“I appreciate you ... the jacket, really, but—”

“Delphine,” Shultz delivers in his no-bullshit tone, “I would have missed her birth, her life, being her father if you wouldn’t have trained the man behind you.

If you hadn’t taken the time to teach him exactly how the hell to get us out of a situation we should not have survived.

So—” He takes the jacket and opens it, and Delphine turns, pushing her arms through as he covers her with it.

“This is yours because it’s what I was wearing when you saved me. ”

“I—oh, Merci, thank you”—I can see the mist in her eyes as she glances back at me again—“but truly, I did nothing—”

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t share your opinion, ma’am,” he says, grabbing her hand and squeezing it before releasing it. “So, thank you, Delphine. Truly, thank you.”

“Okay, I don’t know ... what,” she chuckles nervously, “you are welcome, I guess,” she whispers, the rattle in her voice thinly concealed as she pauses. “Wait, we ?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, stepping back and opening the door wide just as Mom takes her cue and clicks on the porch light. Delphine gasps as she scans the row of uniformed soldiers in varying branches of the military lined in our front yard.