8. Jacklyn
8
JACKLYN
I stare at the glowing screen of my phone, expecting it to ring again, but it doesn’t. My fingers tremble and my heart drops as every word he uttered replays in my mind like a shot of ice-cold adrenaline.
My breath catches in my throat. The words aren’t just a threat—they are a declaration of war. It’s not just a vague warning; it’s a statement of intent. The kind of statement that could shatter everything my family has worked for.
Luciano Gatti has declared war on my family.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles go white. I push the device aside, but the words linger in my mind like a siren’s wail. The truce is over.
My mind races as I consider the fragile peace I have worked so hard to build. I have been careful. So careful. I’ve played by the rules. I’d even slept with the man. And enjoyed it. What more did I have to do to prove myself?
It feels like everything is unraveling. The call came through just moments ago, but already, I can feel my mental health decaying as my mind races with the implications of a war with the Gattis. My men have been gunning for a war, they’ve sensed the tension, the shift in the air, and they’re already on edge. They can feel the cracks in our crumbling empire. And if I don’t do something about it soon, all hell will break loose.
I hear the muffled sound of arguing voices coming from the hallway, followed by the sharp, clipped tones of my men. My stomach twists. It’s not just a quiet stir. This is a full-blown eruption, the kind that heralds the fall of empires. The kind that spells anarchy.
I stand up, my chair scraping against the floor as I move toward the door. I was raised amongst men, amongst eagles, and I know the sound beyond my door all too well. The angry buzz of testosterone, the low growl of men about to snap. My men are restless—furious. Not just at the world around us, but at me. At my decisions. My leadership. There is no way they will be able to fight a war when they are so fractured.
Jack.
I close my eyes for a brief moment, feeling the weight of what I have to do. Jack has always been my rock, the steady hand in our chaotic world. But even his presence can’t protect us from the storm I’ve created. It’s time for me to protect him. And to do that, I need to leave him. I can accept whatever future is in the cards for me, even death. But the thought of my brother, my best friend, living out the remainder of his days without me, without the companionship and guidance of a sister looking after him, creates a deep ache inside me.
Taking a deep breath, I open the door, stepping out into the hallway. It’s like walking into the eye of a storm. The men are gathered in clusters, voices raised, anger simmering in the air.
“What the hell’s going on here?” My voice cuts through the noise like a blade. It is the calm before the storm that I know is heading my way.
Immediately, the voices drop, but the tension is still there, thick as fog.
One of my lieutenants, a burly man named Sergio, pushes Marco’s hand off him and turns to me, his face a mix of frustration and concern. “Boss, there was a fight at one of the Gatti clubs, and we?—”
He takes one look at me and stops talking. I must look the way my insides feel – like they’ve drained of all color, all purpose, all relevance in this world. A fight at the Gatti club. The Gattis are notoriously fierce when it comes to trespassing on their territory. I don’t have to guess at what happened. I don’t have to guess where.
“Which club?”
“Ignite.”
I close my eyes, heave in a deep breath and let it out before my eyes flutter open again, ablaze with murderous fire. Of course, it had to be the club I was at just a few days ago. Of course, the fight had to coincide neatly with my visit. And of course, no surprise, Lucky Gatti would be thinking, right about now, that I orchestrated the whole thing to stab him in the back and take my shot at him. That’s the only thing that would make sense, despite any arguments I could present. My own men have shot me down in front of the Gattis.
“Who was it?” I ask, looking at Marco, who obviously tried to prevent the news reaching me. I don’t know what he hoped to accomplish by keeping me in the dark, but I can only imagine that he thought he’d handle the situation himself.
“The cousins,” Marco tells me, somewhat reluctantly. “They apparently decided it was a good idea to pick a fight at Ignite.”
My face darkens. “That insult is as good as a declaration of war. The Gattis will only forgive so much.”
“This is no longer a negotiation anymore, Jacklyn.”
My heart races as my throat tightens. War. The one thing I have fought so hard to avoid. The bloodshed. The chaos. But the betrayal by my own men is tipping the scales. No one will ever allow me to forget that I couldn’t control my own family.
Sergio, to his credit, keeps his voice steady as he tells me we need to prepare for a bloody war. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that the Gatti family doesn’t take any prisoners. Once they get through our walls, it’s all or nothing.
I feel my resolve hardening; I’m equal measures angry and defiant. I’m murderous because I’ve been thrust into a battle I can’t win, and there’s only so many of my own men I can kill before I end up with no-one to defend my crumbling empire. And I’m angrier still that someone – anyone – thinks they can come in and take what my family has worked so hard for as their spoils of war.
“Everyone out,” I rasp, my eyes lowered. I hear the shuffle of feet as the crowd disperses, before I turn to meet Marco’s hard gaze.
He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. His expression is unreadable, but I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. He’s always been the one to see through my defenses, and right now, he’s probably the only one who knows exactly what’s on my mind.
“Let’s talk,” Marco says, his tone low, but the unspoken command is clear. He has always been the steady one between us, the one who had a way of seeing the bigger picture even when it feels like everything is falling apart. The only problem with his big picture is that it’s ultimately what he wants, but not what I need.
Without waiting for my response, he turns and walks down the hall toward the inner office, his footsteps measured, confident. I hesitate for a moment, my mind still trying to catch up with everything that’s happening, but eventually I follow him.
The office is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the half-open blinds and the muted glow of a desk lamp. The weight of our silence is suffocating, as if the world outside is holding its breath.
Marco sits down behind the desk, his posture relaxed, but his eyes never leave me. I can’t quite shake the feeling that he is studying me, trying to gauge my next move, possibly talk me out of doing something foolish.
Like calling Luciano Gatti. Begging him to rethink his stance. Maybe grovel at his feet for mercy. Perhaps fuck him again.
But I’m not one to back down from a fight. Never have been. This may be one of the most chaotic moments of my life, but I would roll with the punches just like any good leader would.
“What do you need me to do, Jacklyn?” Marco asks, his voice quiet but insistent.
I sink into the chair across from him, rubbing my forehead. I can be as nervous as I want in front of him – it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before; Marco can read me like a book and is probably already a step ahead of me and knows exactly what I’m thinking. There’s not much that can get past him.
“I need you to organise transport for Jack out of the country,” I tell him.
Marco leans forward, his hands clasped in front of him. “I know you’re struggling. But you can’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”
“No emotions,” I tell him. “If there were emotions involved, I’d keep him near me.”
“You’re doing this to protect him,” he reminds me. “That’s an emotional move.”
“What would you have me do, Marco? Hmmm? I can’t protect him if I’m dead!”
The silence between us saps all the air from the room as we stare each other down.
“I don’t want a war,” I tell him, my voice breaking. “I don’t want to lose everything. But if I do, I want to ensure that Jack is looked after.”
“You won’t lose anything with me beside you, Jackie,” Marco reassures me, his eyes softening. “Not if you stay focused. We’ve been through worse; don’t let fear take hold of you now.”
I look at him, my chest tightening. “But what if I fail?”
Marco’s gaze darkens, and there is a heaviness in his voice when he speaks again. “You’re not alone in this, Jacklyn. You never were. I’ve always been here. And I always will be.”
Marco has always been stalwart in his protection of my family. But when it comes to me, he’s maybe a little too invested in outcomes. And if we want to be honest about emotions, I think he’s more inclined to let his emotions get in the way than I am.
I look at him—the man who has stood by me through every storm—the man who brought me back from the brink after what happened to my brother. He’s really the only one left who I can trust. The path ahead is unclear, but one thing is certain. The choices I make now will define not just my future, but the future of everything we have built.
And for the first time in a long while, I understand that the price of power—of loyalty—is something I have to be willing to pay, no matter the cost.
The weight of our conversation hangs heavy in the air as I step out of the office, my mind spinning with the gravity of Marco’s words. I feel torn, more than ever. The war isn’t just between the families—it is within me.
I walk to the tower, where I find my brother sitting in his wheelchair, looking out the window. I moved him here after I almost lost him. He resides in the highest peak of our home, on the throne of our empire. The decision to relocate him was three-fold. He’s always loved the tower and watching the grounds from the innermost sanctum of our world. It’s set apart from the rest of the property, which means he's afforded all the privacy he needs. And it’s the safest quarter of the home – in the event of an attack, an intruder would need to go through layers and layers of concrete to get to him.
He wheels the chair around as I step into the room, his curious eyes finding mine. It’s like he feels something in the air. As though he senses the shift, the change that’s coming. I let out a deep sigh and let go of the door handle before walking towards him.
Even after his ‘accident’, I have never held anything back from my brother. I never will. I know he’s in there somewhere. I can tell by the way his eyes follow my movements. He may not be as physically capable as he once was, but he’s still mentally connected to me in a way not many people would understand.
“Did you miss me, buddy?” I ask, crouching until we’re face to face. His lips move in the slightest twitch. He lifts a hand and trails it down my cheek slowly. I curl into his hand, like a cat would its owner.
“I miss you so damn much, Jack.” Tears form in my eyes, even as I fight against them. His eyebrows pull down in some semblance of a frown just as he shakes his head. I swear I can read him without the benefit of speech. His expressions, his mannerisms. We were in tune with one another’s thoughts long before we lost the connection after the trauma that divided us.
“What’s wrong, Jackie?”
“I’ve made a mess of things, Jack. The men don’t take me seriously like they did you.”
His eyes skirt down to his knees before he looks back up at me, raising his eyebrows.
“Do you think they were taking me seriously when this happened to me?”
“I don’t believe-refuse to believe-that one of our own could have orchestrated your death, Jack.” I’m adamant that none of our men would have been cruel enough to do this.
He tips his head at an angle; he himself is unsure.
“ Really, Jackie?”
“A war is coming. I have to send you away.”
He lifts his head to the ceiling and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he looks back at me, it’s with a look of resignation. There is nothing he can do to change my mind, even though he does not want us to be apart.
“It will only be for a little while, Jack. I promise.”