Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
This is my fault. All this is on me.
And it kills me, knowing that Bianca, my feather, my saint, was nearly hurt because of my mistakes.
“Don’t tell me they already tried to take revenge.”
“Against my wife. Two Morozov thugs attacked her as she was leaving work.”
Dad sits up straight. He waves his cigar in the air. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me right away?”
“She needed me.”
“Damn it, Cormac. What did you do to them?”
“Dead. Stabbed.”
He sighs and rubs his face. “This is an escalation. Ruslan was angry, but he didn’t say anything about striking back.”
“Why would he tip his hand?”
“The wily fucker. He tried to make it sound like we could come to an agreement.”
I lean toward my father, steel in my chest. “There will be no peace.”
He meets my eye. I can tell he doesn’t like that, but we both know the truth.
I’m dead right.
“The Morozovs have been a problem for years now,” he says, sounding deeply unhappy. “I was hoping a surgical strike against Yuri would slow them down. He was the loudest member of the Bratva speaking against our family. But now it seems like we’ve turned a potential problem into an outright war. All because of your mistake.”
I grimace back, hands clutching the arms of my chair. “I’ll fix it.”
“How will you do that, Cormac?” Dad doesn’t even sound angry anymore. Just deeply disappointed. “You were sloppy. Your first kill after marrying that girl, and you ruined it.”
“I’ll dismantle the Morozovs if that’s what it takes.”
“How can I trust you to pull that off?” Dad drags on his cigar but makes a face. He aggressively stubs it out. “I wasn’t happy when you took Finn’s place, but you assured me you could continue your work. You all but forced me to accept this situation.” He waves a hand in my general direction. “And now it’s already proving to be a fucking problem.”
He’s not wrong. That’s the worst part. I married Bianca thinking I could handle it, but clearly I can’t.
She’s always been a part of me. In my head, in my soul. Seared into my body forever. But now that she’s my actual wife, I find my obsession is getting even worse instead of slightly fading.
Now that I have her, I want her even more.
It’s a fucking hell I can’t escape from.
“Bianca won’t be an issue going forward. I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
He snorts, making a face. “I’m more worried about your performance as this family’s Ghostman.”
That makes my hands clench. He cares more about my job than he does about my wife?
But I understand he’s speaking as the Whelan clan’s boss, not as my father.
It still fucking stings.
“Give me a target and I’ll handle it.” I get up before I say something else I’ll regret.
Dad nods wearily. He slumps back into his chair and sighs. “I’ll be in touch. For now, hold tight. Maybe I can still salvage this situation.”
“Good luck with that.”
I leave his office. Dad’s a fool if he thinks Ruslan Morozov’s going to back down. Not after I killed his nephew and two of his soldiers.
No, this is a war. Nothing we can do now.
I head to the door, but my mother’s voice calls my name from the front parlor. I drift over reluctantly and find her sitting at the piano, her back very straight as she plays a quiet melody. “Come sit down.” She pats the bench and looks over her shoulder. “It’s been a while since we practiced.”
“Not since I was a kid.”
“No time like the present, right?” She smiles warmly at me. “Come on, Cormac. Indulge your mother.”
I reluctantly join her. She places her hands on the keys and begins to play. I listen for a moment, always impressed by her soft and perfect touch, before joining in. I’m rusty, but after a couple measures I start to ease into the music, letting old muscle memory take over as we play. Arabesque No. 1 by Debussy was never my favorite, but Mom always loved it, and so we’d play duet arrangements together all the time.
“Your father is concerned about you,” she says without looking over. “I’m worried too.”
“Everything’s fine.”
“You really surprised us when you married that girl, you know.”
“The situation made sense.” I know what she’s doing. Distracting me with the piano. And it’s working.
“Did it?” she murmurs, shaking her head. “I don’t know. Finn got what he wanted. Which makes me wonder what you ended up with?”
“I make the most sense. Bianca’s already a target.”
“Your fault.”
I miss a note and stop playing. “Now you sound like Dad.”
“Is he wrong though?” I glare at her, but she speaks before I can respond. “Keep playing. Come on, we don’t have to bicker. You know you made a mistake. I won’t rub it in.”
I pick up where we left off reluctantly. “Bianca’s a good wife. She’s trying to find her way here.”