Page 14

Chapter 14

Eden

Funerals suck.

And I suck at grief—it's easier to ignore it.

I can ignore grief when it's my own, but it's harder to ignore when it's others. You'd think it would be the opposite. But, like most things, I flip the finger at normal.

The atmosphere at Gilly's has been subdued for the past few days following Tommaso's death. Whether you liked him or not, were his ally or enemy—or a neutral party—you had to respect the man.

A bullet on a leather strap hangs around my neck. Tommaso gave it to me the second day I took over Gilly's.

He had come in before Gilly's opened, and I was alone, trying to get my bearings in my brother's world. I had felt lost and was drowning in my guilt and regret.

It was like Tommaso knew I needed a connection to Aiken, to see him through someone else's eyes. He sat and talked with me about my brother and how he respected him. He shared story after story that showed how Aiken truly loved what he did. Aiken had a place here, reveling in his purpose and passion.

Afterward, Tommaso told me it was his custom that when someone he respected died, he gave their loved one something meaningful—something that had value to him and was hard to part with.

He pulled the bullet on a thin leather strap from his pocket and told me its meaning. It was the first bullet he'd been shot with, and he carried it to remind himself that life—all life—has meaning and purpose, and ending that life had ripple effects. And when considering someone's fate, he never took that lightly.

I tried to refuse the gift, but one doesn't say no to Tommaso Santoro.

Tommaso's talisman hangs around my neck, its weight pressing against my skin. I think about his family grieving his death and the lose of a great leader.

Images of Vito's blue-green eyes have haunted me since he got that call in my office.

For once, his emotions were laid bare for me to see. First, the hunger and need as he taunted and tempted me—oh, how he fucking tempted me—then, the utter pain and anguish.

I haven't seen Vito since that night. Which I'm thankful for, because being close to him and seeing his vulnerability and pain… It's too similar to what I'm still reeling with from Aiken's death.

I lift the bullet from under my shirt and stare at the compressed, tarnished brass as I sit here and wish I didn't have to go to Tommaso's funeral. Not only because I hate funerals, but because I don't want to witness Vito's and his family's sorrow. It will remind me of my pain and how I failed Aiken.

However, I'm Gilly's owner-operator, and I'm expected to attend the funeral of a leader. It would be disrespectful if I didn't.

Steeling my spine and taking a deep breath—which is shakier than I'll admit—I leave my office. I stop in at the kitchen to ensure they're on schedule to be ready for the busy day after the funeral. Many in the underworld will come here rather than go to the Santoro estate afterward. Gilly's will be a place to gather and pay homage to a Chamber leader. I also make sure the bar is well-stocked.

Unable to avoid it any longer, I finally exit Gilly's and walk toward the 1970 Mustang Boss 429 I had splurged on. I've loved the car since seeing it in the first John Wick movie. However, I stop in my tracks on the sidewalk as two men lean against it.

They're in cheap-looking suits, with slicked-back hair and sunglasses. I know who these men are—maybe not personally, but I know what they are. I've been expecting people like them to seek me out.

"Agents," I greet coldly. "Get your asses off my vehicle. You'll scratch the paint."

They straighten. "Ms. Fallen, we want a word." They point at Gilly's, but like hell I'll let them inside.

Ambrose steps outside, having been watching the security cameras. He stands by the door with his hands crossed in front of him.

"You can have many words. Just none of them with me." I step to the side, and they mirror the action, blocking my path.

"Ms—"

"Show me your badges," I demand. They extend their FBI badges. I study them, then eye the two agents again. "Agent Peel and Agent Stought, kindly fuck off. I have nothing to say. Talk with your superiors if you don't like it."

I try to step around them again, but they mimic my movement.

"Gilly's is neutral territory," I grit, losing my patience. "Meaning no badges."

"Meaning it's a breeding ground," Agent Peel snarks.

A breeding ground of information they'd love to get.

The security cameras don't record audio, and Gilly's patrons wouldn't be stupid enough to discuss details openly. But there's always the desire to get information—that's why the staff is thoroughly vetted, and the best security technology is used and constantly upgraded.

But what these agents are ignoring, or maybe don't know, is that the law enforcement agencies' higher-ups leave Gilly's alone because they unofficially support its purpose. Yes, criminal deeds are discussed and planned here. However, Gilly's helps limit the conflict and war on the streets and reduces bloodshed and collateral damage to the innocents in the city.

"I know I'm new, so you keen, pimple-faced agents want to make a reputation for yourself. But go and talk to your superiors, who will talk to their superiors. Gilly's is off-limits."

"That's not what your brother thought." Agent Stought smiles smugly, and I want to choke him with Tommaso's bullet.

"I can't say what my brother thought as I rarely spoke to him the past nine years," I say unemotionally, surprising them that I didn't have an outburst defending or denying his talking to them.

I have no idea if Aiken had. My gut is telling me no, but it will be something I consider later when I'm alone.

"Now, fuck off and get off my property." I cross my arms and glare at them. "I own this entire block up to and including the sidewalk curb to the street, and you're trespassing. If I have to call for your removal, it won't be a foot patrol officer who comes for you."

I leave the threat hanging that someone, possibly one of their superiors or one of the ruthless people they're trying to spy on, will come for them.

We have a staring contest, but they blink first. Muttering to each other, they finally leave. Once they're driving off, I pivot and stalk back to Ambrose.

"I want another full scan done before we open. Increase security measures, including the jamming devices." I won't have anything transmitted or recorded on my watch. "Access in and out, even for staff, is only through one door. I want scans of the body and any electronics for everyone who comes in to ensure no one is wearing a wire. I know it will create a bottleneck for people getting in, but I don't care."

"Got it, boss." He nods and goes back inside.

I stalk to my car and leave. Traffic is fairly light as I drive to the church and brood about my interaction with the agents. I expected someone local or the Feds to come by at some point, but it's still unnerving. As is the accusation that Aiken was talking to them.

Is that why he was murdered?

I know he wouldn't have been trying to shut down Gilly's. He was in the role for fifteen years, so it's not like he was morally against the world he operated in or was a pearl-clutcher when it came to criminal deeds. But maybe he discovered something too terrible that he couldn't keep quiet about.

When I arrive at the church, I'm still ruminating on that possibility. I'm almost late, so I lock my car and walk with long strides down the street. I turn the corner and head toward the large, old stone building, as I ignore all the warnings in my head to turn around and avoid the funeral altogether. Gritting my teeth, I climb the wide steps and enter the church's entrance foyer.

Amazu turns as I enter. "Ed, so nice that you could make it."

I'm never sure how to read him. Is he sincere? Or making a passive-aggressive dig at my coming in right before the funeral starts?

I nod, not responding further.

The other Chamber leaders also come over. Amazu, Lixin, and Dom wear suits, while Ash is more like me—respectable but not too dressy. Wearing a dress or a skirt isn't my style, and I don't think Tommaso would care. But I stepped it up from jeans and wore black slacks, a loose black blouse tucked in, and a dark gray peacoat that hangs to my mid-thigh.

Lixin reaches his hand out to shake mine, his face serious. "Thanks for coming, Ed."

My stomach uses that moment to somersault and nausea pushes forth. My nerves are jumping all over the place about attending the funeral. My ruminating about what Aiken possibly got himself wrapped up isn't helping. Bile pushes into my throat, and I swallow it down, nearly choking while I force myself not to sprint from the church.

"Are you okay, Ed?" Dom looks concerned, and Lixin shifts closer.

"Fine," I force out. "Just hate funerals."

"We should take our seats." Ash looks at the closed door of the side room. "The family will enter soon."

I step back, but Lixin stops me. "You're welcome to sit with one of us."

I frown, as does Dom.

"We were thinking the funeral may be difficult alone, given Aiken's passing hasn't been that long ago," Amazu explains.

Passing.

Such a lovely, misleading thought. Not murdered, left to die alone in a pool of his blood.

My hands have fisted, and I relax them. "I'll be fine. Thank you for your consideration, though."

I leave them before my emotions get the better of me and slip into the sanctuary part of the church. Seeing an open seat near the back, I quickly sit down.

Warnings are still blaring in my head that I should leave. Aiken's funeral, at least, was outside, but being inside the church reminds me too much of Fenton's funeral.

Images of my young sister laying so still in her casket flash in my mind. Followed by hearing the last words I ever spoke to Aiken, making regret, guilt, pain, and shame swirl in me.

My armor starts to crack, and the other memories that I work so hard to repress try to push in: the ones of me being restrained on a medical table while I screamed and fought to no avail.

Sweat coats my forehead. I close my eyes, as I struggle not to fall headlong into the my horrendous memories and have an emotional breakdown right here on the church pew.

Surprisingly, it's the weight of Tommaso's bullet resting against my skin that brings me back. My racing heart and tumultuous emotions start to ease.

You can do this .

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm myself further. Scanning the sanctuary, I notice the mayor and a congressman among the crowd. Based on how some people are dressed, this looks like a high-society event, not a mob boss's funeral.

The organ starts playing somber music, and snaps my attention back to what we're here for. Someone from the front signals for the congregation to stand, and it's like a slow, gentle wave throughout the sanctuary as we rise.

The priest and his attendants walk in first. Even though I'm preparing myself to see the family, when Vito comes into view, my heart pounds painfully in my chest. My palms sweat as the urge to flee the church hits me again.

Avoidance and running have been my coping mechanism for too many years. But this isn't about me; it's about paying my respect to Tommaso and his family.

The bullet feels hot against my skin, and I draw strength from it as my eyes drink in Vito. I'll never admit it, but I've missed him coming into Gilly's the past few days.

Massimo and him flank their mother, who looks so tiny between them. Behind them are Creed and Sophie, his tattooed hand engulfing her smaller one. Even though Creed steers clear of the criminal world, he and Sophie are well-known—they're Santoro's, after all. Sophie is beautiful in a classic, innocent way, and Creed is gorgeous himself and only a bit smaller than Massimo.

You can see a bit of Tommaso in each of his sons. Creed has the same piercing light blue eyes and stunning attractiveness. Massimo has his width and calm demeanor. Vito has his height, the same mouth and nose, and the cunning ruthlessness that's right under the surface.

The infamous Santoro brothers. Close-knit and loyal, bound even tighter in their grief.

I overheard Vito joking with Massimo that Creed calls them the mafia version of the Brady Bunch .

My eyes burn as I watch Vito walk with his mom clutching his hand. His back is strong as he physically and emotionally supports her.

This is what a family should be.

Not like mine. Not like how I treated Aiken. Not like our parents. Because of them, I had lost my whole family.

Aiken, being twelve years older and not living with us, didn't realized until it was too late that a cult had sucked our parents in. They were about to take the next step of committing themselves, Fenton, and me to it.

I skipped school that day and was at my boyfriend's place, but Fenton ran to escape our parents when they came to pick her up from school. I suspect the car that hit her was someone from the cult—either to stop her from fleeing or as punishment.

I had returned home—stupid me—after Fenton was killed; I just wanted to be in my sister's room to be close to her. My parents kept me prisoner after that and found out the day after Fenton's funeral that I was pregnant. My parents slapped me around, screaming that I dishonored and disrespected them. I should've been leery when they calmed down and sent me to my room, locking me in again. The next day, four men dragged me from my room and tossed me into a van with my parents climbing in behind me. They coldly told me the 'cult doesn't allow bastard children.' Denial about what was about to happen was quickly replaced with my feral panic and fight, but between the four men, plus my own father, they carried me into a clinic and slammed me onto a medical table, pinning my body and limbs down. My mother was the one who restrained my wrists, then my ankles, and finally, the tight belt across my torso.

They pinned me down, ignoring my screams, tears, and futile efforts to fight, and got rid of my baby. It didn't matter that I didn't consent to it. They ripped the life away and ripped me in half at the same time. No care for my fragile mental state. No sedative or pain relief. Hardly any medical care afterward.

I nearly died as a result, and I carry those scars. Emotional scars as well as physical ones, because I suffered excessive uterine scarring. I'll never be able to have a child.

My parents had taken my little sister, my unborn baby, and the future option of having children away from me.

My parents didn't lock me in my room after that since I could hardly move. Once I could stand for longer than a few minutes, somehow I escaped. I ran and never looked back; my parents were dead to me.

Even though Aiken disowned our parents after finding out what had happened, once he tracked me down, he always made me remember my tragic story and grief. I couldn't face it. I couldn't deal with it. So I pushed him away… and now he's gone.

The choir hits the chorus of a beautiful hymn, pulling me back to the present. My eyes burn, and I almost feel like I'll choke on my pain and regret. Family shouldn't be what mine is. Family should be what the Santoros have: by each other's side, standing for and with one another, and supporting each other.

My hands are shaking. I clasp them together, reinforcing my shields and armor to keep the pain and horrific memories out. I can't push my grief fully back, but it's enough so it doesn't consume me as the service continues.

I try to focus on the words being spoken about Tommaso instead of the flashbacks from Fenton's funeral and what happened afterward. But by the end of the service, even though I'm mostly outwardly composed, inside, I'm a shaky, rattled mess.

The somber music starts again for the procession to leave the church. I escape as soon as possible, saying a silent goodbye to Tommaso as a leader but, more importantly, as a father who respected and loved his family.

Still not fully composed, I struggle to put my impassive mask back in place. I avoid the crowd lingering in front of the church and hurry down the far side of the wide stairs. I don't want to talk or see anyone, especially not the Chamber leaders.

Thankfully, no one tries to stop me, and I turn the corner to where I parked.

And stop short when I see Vito standing beside my car.

My heart feels like it stopped with my feet.

Vito. In his dark suit and black shirt. His blue-green eyes aren't hiding his pain.

I can't move. I can't look away. I can't school my face into an unreadable mask, and I know every emotion is laid bare.

Pain. Anguish. Guilt. Shame.

Need.

I want so much from this dangerous man. And it's not just the physical.

He frowns as he studies me—searching and trying to understand what I can't hide from him right now.

"Eden." My name sounds like a prayer.

I shake my head, trying to ward him off, unable to speak. My hands shake, and he glances at them before his eyes lift back to mine.

"Eden." His throat bobs as he swallows hard. He takes a step closer to me. "Come to the house. With me."

My chest squeezes. He sees my pain—it mirrors his own. Two people wanting to draw strength from the other.

But it's impossible.

"I can't, Vito." My voice breaks.

"Please."

His low, deep voice rumbles through my chest with that single word, as if he's pressed against me. Oh, how I want nothing but to feel his strength and lose myself in him.

But the line is drawn between us.

"You know I can't, Vito."

He stares at me, then finally nods. "Eden Fallen can't. But Ed, owner and operator of Gilly's, can."

I'm starting to feel back in control of my emotions, capable of stuffing my grief back down deep. I unclench my hands, and their shake diminishes. "You certainly are a boundary pusher."

"Just ask Mamma ." He smiles, but it fades quickly. "We're doing the internment of my father's ashes on a different day; we're headed straight to the house now. Promise me you'll come."

"Vito…"

What he's asking feels like I'm one step closer to falling over the cliff. To feel heaven for a brief period, only to fall straight into hell afterward.

"Please." His expression is open and earnest. "My father would appreciate that someone in your position took the time to honor him and be with his family. He respected Gilly's, and it's leader always."

I sigh, closing my eyes.

"I know… I'm such a fucking cunt."

My eyes fly open, and I laugh despite myself. "You really are."

"So you'll come?"

I sigh again, making him smile like he enjoys my exasperation. " Ed will make a short appearance."