Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Revenge isn’t just about getting even, it’s about making things right.” —King Campisi
Ivan
I didn’t believe it when I saw the text from King—directly from Junior. Proof. The proof we needed. The proof that stared me down in the face. I knew it would be volatile.
I didn’t, however, know how bad it could have gotten with the rest of the men there watching.
Some knew the history of the Families.
Others whispered about it.
How the De Langes fell.
And today, I would be the one—to make them rise.
I stood in the middle. The gun moved to my forehead. I took a deep breath and realized in that moment, I had to make the choice as boss.
I wasn’t trying to be the hero.
I was trying to be humane to someone who lost it all and never forgave themselves in the process, someone who carried the weight of the De Langes mistakes and, in order not to let it destroy them, embraced them in wait.
“Mil De Lange,” I whispered. “Death would be too kind for what you did to our Families, for the mistakes you made and never owned up to, for the lives you willingly destroyed. You slid down the slope and forgot to ask for help to get out. That’s on you, and I won’t make the same mistake.” I crooked my fingers to Tank. “Shoot me, shoot all of us, but it won’t change what’s about to happen, you’re under arrest, may you rot in prison for using these Families against their own, and may the grace the Five Families are bestowing upon you right now, feel like the fires of Hell itself.”
Her hand shook as she lowered her gun.
Chase impatiently swatted it out of her hand, and with shaking hands, pulled the hood from her face, her sunglasses went with it.
There was a jagged scar running down the left side of her face that ran through her throat in such a grotesque way it was hard to look at.
One eye was a milky white, as if blinded.
Her hair was pulled back into a tight black braid. She had aged from the pictures I had seen of her, but she was still striking in her own way.
“Why?” Chase tilted his head and leaned in. “You should have stayed dead.”
“Says someone with a perfect life,” she spat.
He shook his head. “One, I fucking fought the same way that I fought for everything and everyone I hold dear, the way I sadly and mistakenly fought for you.”
She flinched. I wondered if stabbing her would have been kinder.
A tear slid down her cheek. “You don’t know where they put me, what I went through, what I fought for to get back, to get to you.” She reached her hand down to her thigh. “I love you. I loved you then, and now.”
Her movements were slow, but she was quick when she pulled a knife from her hip.
She stabbed it directly into Chase’s side.
He was wearing a bullet-proof vest—he always did now that he was a senator; I wondered if she would know even that about him. Probably not. Because in the end, she only cared for herself.
The knife clattered to the ground. He gripped her by the wrist. “I’m officially out of your reach, and I have been for some time. Enjoy prison and take one look around you at the empire we’ve built that you wanted to destroy down to your own Family. You want to know what love is? It’s when you sacrifice everything for them, rather than sacrificing them, for yourself.”
Tank stepped forward and put her in cuffs. “She escaped prison, with the help of a few of her men and was assumed dead after finding her clothes and some of her teeth near the burning escape car, one of our own was in on it and on payroll, they wrote up the case as death by burning and helped her re-establish herself.”
Phoenix cursed, finally speaking up. “How long ago?”
“Two years ago.” Tank revealed. “We just put two and two together this morning after Junior captured the picture and infiltrated. With King and Ivan’s help, we were able to set this up. Well, that and Bella, who probably needs medical attention.”
I stared down at Mil. “What? No last words before prison? No, thank you?”
“It was always mine,” Mil rasped. “The De Lange Family was mine.”
“Then you should have taken better fucking care of it,” Phoenix snarled.
“I was going to fix it!” Mil screamed. “I was going to fix everything!”
I released a sharp laugh. “Didn’t you know? We already did, without your help.”
Chase was the first to turn his back on her, Phoenix second, and slowly every single person turned away, a sign of cutting that person from memory.
And finally, I did the same as Tank carried her away while she screamed.
“Did you know?” Nixon asked Phoenix.
Phoenix sighed. “I considered her dead as well. She just barely survived that day, but get one thing straight, she died that day, to all of us, and the dead should stay buried.”
“Risky.” Chase pointed out.
Phoenix shook his head. “I thought so many times to let you know she had made it and then when I visited her one last time, I didn’t recognize her anymore. Her soul left that day. What you see now is a shell. It would have been more painful to give you hope that you could still save her when she was already gone, she spoke in riddles all the time, the injuries weren’t kind and caused brain damage as well.”
Chase nodded and pulled Phoenix in for a hug. “You did the right thing.”
Andrei walked up to all of the old bosses. “Does this mean we can go now?”
“Rude, always so rude, Russians,” Phoenix said under his breath.
I laughed, then winced, forgetting about the bullet in my upper shoulder, and looked over to Junior, pulling the ring from my hand.
“Nope.” He held up his hands. “I actually like the early retirement thing, might learn how to golf with my dad.”
“You’re twenty-six.” I pointed out.
He nodded. “One of us has to raise Bam-Bam, plus my dad’s still fully running the Nicolasi train wreck.”
“YOU IDIOT!” Serena’s scream was actually the most terrifying sound ever as she sprinted toward Junior with Bam-Bam chasing happily behind her like they were playing tag.
We all gave Junior a wide berth while King scooped up Bam-Bam and ran in the opposite direction; I mean, it was nearly a full-on sprint, I didn’t know he could run that fast.
The rest of the bosses followed, leaving Junior completely abandoned.
“Huh.” Nixon laughed. “Bet he wishes he was dead now. She’s got a temper.”
“Shocked.” I smiled over at him, then stopped when his glare was all I received.
“You.” He jabbed a finger at me. “Good thinking on making her De Lange. That was smart. You protected her and me, and in the end, you did… good.”
I made a face. “On a scale of one to ten, how painful was it to say that out loud, Dad?”
“Fourteen,” Nixon grunted. “Wait.” He scratched his head. “If she’s under De Lange—that means not under Abandonato…”
Oh shit, he was mathing too fast, and I was already injured and losing blood.
“You could touch her—you son of a—”
I started half running, half limping toward her, yelling, “Shield wall.” The entire way.
She just blankly stared at me.
“What part of shield wall don’t you get?” I roared.
She sidestepped me. “The part where I offer to be your shield when you shot me without warning me.”
“Fair,” I snapped. “Now save me, tell him I love you or something.”
Bella grinned and pointed at me, then yelled to her dad, “Guess who might be a grandpa soon?”
My eyes widened.
“Oh, I’d run if I were you.” Bella winked. “Ciao, Ivan.”