Page 47 of Widow’s Walk (Women of the Mafia #1)

He starts in again, but as soon as I point the gun at his face, he snaps his mouth shut. My father is proud, but he’s also a pussy. He doesn’t want to die, and he’ll beg for his life if it comes down to it.

I move the gun down the line, but not far.

Right next to him. My mother. She’s a blubbering mess.

The opposite of the cold bitch she’s always been.

There was always a scowl on her plastic face.

God, it feels so good to make her cry. I wish I could bottle every tear and line my shelf with them like trophies.

Pop!

Her scream echoes in the quiet of the night. I’m surprised a bunch of birds didn’t just scatter from the thicket. That would make this moment perfect.

Hawk picks her up, and she tries going limp as she screams and cries. “Sit up or the next one goes in your head,” I say, voice lethal.

Her bottom lip and chin quiver, but she complies as Hawk props her up again. I smile, then— pop!

She falls back, crying out when the next bullet hits her just below her belly button. Again, not fatal. If treated in a timely fashion.

Momentarily, I’m satisfied. But I didn’t quite get what I wanted out of Lincoln, so I shift back to him. Aiming the gun at his abdomen, I pull the trigger.

Pop!

He finally howls out and keels over, his body hunched, and hits the ground headfirst. Unable to catch himself with his hands tied behind his back. He screams through his teeth as Hawk hauls him up. Spittle flying out like sparks. He looks at me with murder in his eyes, and I love it.

Now you see me .

I walk around the four of them, to their backs.

Pressing the barrel of the gun to the peak of Royce’s spine, he freezes.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, brother.” His breaths become more shallow, his heart rate picking up.

“Anything you want to say? Huh?” Silence.

But then Lincoln and my father start muttering nonsense.

Suddenly finding their balls. It’s just background noise to me.

There’s literally nothing in the world they could ever say that could ever hurt me again.

“If I shoot you here, full-body paralysis.” I move the gun a couple inches down. “Here, you might be able to still use your arms, but the rest of you would be dead weight.” Down a couple more inches towards the middle of his back, and he shivers. “But here, only your legs will be useless.” I pause.

Pop!

His scream is earth-shattering. It fills me with something so much more than any high or gratification. His body slumps to the ground, and I watch with grim intrigue as everything thrashes in pain, except for his legs and feet.

Fascinating .

Knowing that it works as easily as I had hoped, I return to my father. Pressing the barrel to the center of his spine, I pull the trigger, and down he goes with a grunt and a whimper that he tries to hide. It has nothing to do with bravery and everything to do with his ego.

I instruct Hawk to bring my father and Royce into the house and leave them directly in the center of the grand foyer. Their bodies drag over broken glass and shards of marble. Howling and cursing the entire way.

When I tell Diesel to put my mother and Lincoln back-to-back to keep them upright, he doesn’t hesitate this time. He does so without even a glance at Blackwell.

I climb the steps and walk into the foyer, the full gas can swinging at my side. Royce and my father are no longer bound with their hands behind their backs. Not necessary. They’re sitting on their assess. Their legs stretch lifeless across the floor. They’re not going anywhere.

They’re seething, but they say nothing. That’s okay. I’ll do the talking.

“Please, don’t get up, boys.” I flash a grin.

“Oh, wait…you can’t.” My father trembles with rage.

“How poetic is this, huh?” I sweep my gaze over the wreckage.

“You built this house on blood.” I cut back to him.

“Now, it’ll burn with yours in it. Torched by the monster you cultivated.

” I crouch down, casual and amused. “The family disgrace.” I dangle the gas can.

“But here I am. Carrying the legacy and the fucking gas can.”

My face stretches with a smile so big that my eyes squint. Starting just inside the threshold, I begin making a trail with the gasoline. Down the steps and stopping at the bottom.

I toss the empty gas can, and Blackwell appears at my side. He watches my face when he hands over a box of matches. We lock eyes, and I wish I could put into words what this means to me. For him to physically hand me closure. So, I do something better than any words of gratitude can do.

I let my mask crack. I let him see me. See exactly what I’m feeling in this very moment. His face glitches, the ghost of a soft smile flickering.

Curses are slung at me from inside, but it’s effortless to tune them out. Taking a few matches out of the box, I strike them and they crackle to life. There’s absolutely no reluctance when I toss the matches, then the whole box. The fire comes to life instantly.

I’m caught in a daze when a gentle touch goes to my hips to coax me backwards. Away from the heat and out of harm’s way. I was so lost to the beautiful sight before me, I almost forgot about the other two.

Lincoln watches the house go up in flames without a word, and my mom’s sobs begin to fade as she loses more blood. They’ll die slowly and soon join the other two in eternal flames.

My eyes well up with tears. Not tears of sorrow, but tears of irrevocable happiness. I turn to Blackwell, and he’s watching the show, so I take a moment to study his profile. I don’t shy away when he catches me. I leave my vulnerability on display for him.

I press my palms to his chest, and one of his arms hooks around my waist. My hands slide up and clasp behind his neck as we stare at each other. My eyes flutter when he brushes some of my hair away from my face.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly release it, along with the nerves. “I love you,” I say quietly.

He stills, then all the tension he’s been holding in his body melts away. His smile is infectious, and when he leans in to kiss me, I meet him with everything I have.

And as my past burns to ashes, I finally feel free to find out who I am without it.