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“There was already going to be a war,” I remind him. “Me fighting back wasn’t going to light the fuse. Besides, Maeve’s hands are tied. She’s still dealing with getting the clan under her control, taking care of the rest of the Board.”
After she cleaned house of the rats, Maeve attacked the Board in their cabin retreat. I was there. It was damn powerful, watching my sister end the tyranny of the men who wanted to own her. I was so proud.
But there was more to do. More old men to end. More power to consolidate. Bruno is a low priority for her while she fights to keep our clan and rid us of the Board’s influence. This is one thing I can do to keep her—all of them—safe.
Maybe when this is over, she’ll thank me. That’d be cool.
“And if you die?” he asks, eyes wide. “Bro, she’ll go fucking nuclear. This city won’t survive. Hell, I might not survive if she knows I did this with you.”
He’s right, actually. What everyone doesn’t know is Maeve’s one hot spot is her family. It’s her strength—and her vulnerability. She will destroy everyone to avenge them.
I’m good, though. It won’t come to that.
“If I do, make sure you put white lilies on my casket,” I quip, much to my cousin’s annoyance, clapping his shoulder. “They’re classier than roses.”
“Fucking prick,” he curses, shoving me forward. “C’mon, we’re going to be late. And we still have to clean you up.” He gives me a dry look, puckering. “Here’s hoping for a miracle.”
“Fuck you.”
Together, we dart back out of the store, in the opposite direction of the Reaper. We don’t stop, not until we get to the Wharf, a bar my family owns, and we sneak through the back entrance. After Bruno’s last stunt, I made it fingerprint-coded—myself included. I don’t need him surprising my family again.
It takes longer to change in the dark. Gone are my street clothes, bundled together in the corner of the stockroom; in their place is a suit. It’s high-quality, made from thick, luxurious velvet, and feels like sin.
“Here,” Ben says, handing me a green handkerchief. I shove it into my pocket, fluffing the ends as he messes with my hair. The pomade smells citrusy and sweet. When he deems me acceptable, he hands me the mask.
As I adjust the green glowing mask, my cousin curls his lip. This isn’t his scene, and he’s made it well-known, but give the man a gold star for trying.
“Are we sure about this?”
“Shut up and put it on, Benny-boy.” I gesture to the one on the crate beside him.
The party we’re headed to specifically asked for masks—no names. I’m actually into it, but not him. Slipping the white, glowing mask on, he sighs, a man being sent to his death.
“Cute,” I tease, and he flips me off. They’re two matching purge masks, just different colors. Together, we light up the room like dual flashlights that belong at a rave.
Shaking a small vial of clear liquid, Ben looks at it under the glowing light. “One drop of this, and we’re both dead.”
“Then stop shaking it, Clumsy.” I snap my fingers. “Hand it over.”
Once he drops it into my palm, he wipes his on the side of his pants.
“Last chance. We could go to a bar, enjoy some fine booze, maybe watch a game? I’d even wingman for you—dude or chick. Your choice.”
Tapping my chest, I grin. “No.”
“Anything else, man. Anything.”
“Are you truly that scared of Maeve?”
Ben shivers. “Bro, I saw her kill a man at the Trials. She smiled when she stabbed him. Like there was dripping blood, and she smiled. Your sister is a psycho—anyone would be scared of her. Personally, I don’t want to find out what her knives feel like.”
Sighing, I clamp a hand on his shoulder. “It has to be done. This is my way of protecting my sisters without them getting the fallout. It’ll work.”
It has to.
Because tonight, I will kill Roman Bruno Junior.
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