Chapter Thirty-Six Tyler
Chapter Thirty-Six
TYLER
JULIEN PINS DONOVAN to the back of the door as Donovan’s surprised laughter fills the closet-sized room. Julien’s fury is as tangible as Donovan’s amusement.
“Jesus, man, I just offered to help—”
“I don’t want your fucking help,” Julien snaps.
“Is it bad that this is turning me on?” Donovan quips as Preston chuckles before speaking up.
“Julien, if it’s not too much trouble, please refrain from killing the director of the FBI today.”
Undeterred, Julien leers at Donovan. “When I want your help, I’ll order it.”
“So you’d be the top?” Donovan snarks. “Sadly, that doesn’t work for me.”
Preston shakes his head in wary amusement as I sit mutely at the small conference table, reeling from Julien’s recent confessions—“Ah, so the raven and the wolf did find a way to work together.”
His delivery another gutting blow after the fact.
The mythology telling enough in the title of my daily report—Odin’s View—stemming from the Norse lore, as well as a long-ago conversation with Delphine about her fear of the internet.
Of its psychological effects on the masses, as well as her belief that it was a potential source of great evil.
Her warning ringing just as clear today.
“All of that, that chaos, the beautiful mixed with the tragic, to the depraved, is a deity’s view, Tyler. It’s a god’s view, not meant for us.”
A premonition I didn’t take as seriously as I do now.
Apparently, Larissa had agreed with Delphine after recognizing the title’s meaning and clung to the hope that we—the Ravens—and the wolves—the mafia—might forge an alliance after we took Ciro down.
Working together to change God’s view. One of her two confessions to Julien the night he vetted her, along with how and why she started tracking us, while heavily alluding to her feelings for me.
Confessions that Julien decided were pointless to relay once he pinpointed my motive when I met him at the tree line that night—covered in fucking Chanel. Too far gone in my suspicion of her and my declared war to see the forest for the trees.
“I love him.”
I breathe through the easily conjured image of that perfume bottle rolling in her palm, of the devastation on her face, as I continue battling my internal clock.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
Though none of my brothers will admit it, not one of them expected the soldier in me to veto all decency of the man I abandoned to see this through. To protect them. Which was their catastrophic mistake and mine.
Though Julien didn’t apologize for safeguarding what he did, and won’t, Larissa’s confession wasn’t solid evidence that she hadn’t come to carry out a vendetta. Knowing that, Julien had no choice but to let it play out.
“Enough,” Tobias sighs as Julien and Donovan continue their cockfight. A fight started over Julien’s exasperation at losing all traces of Antony, ruining his impeccable hunting record.
“My apologies, man. Let me buy you lunch.” Donovan sweeps him heatedly. “You know, it’s been a while since I’ve had to make a real effort.” He licks his lower lip, one side of his mouth lifting. “But for you, I might.”
“Fuck you,” Julien growls.
“Boys, I have a meeting soon,” Preston prompts warily.
“Get the fuck out,” T imparts far less civilly. “And Julien—don’t cost us for your pride. Take the offered help.”
“I’m handling it,” Julien clips.
“Shame, it would be a good time,” Donovan coos while prying Julien’s fingers from his collar. “Though no one can blame you, he’s a slippery fucker.”
“I blame me,” Julien admits gruffly before disengaging enough to shift his focus on me. In response, I give him an ‘I’m good’ nod. One he sarcastically returns in a mute call of bullshit before slamming the door behind him.
“Jesus,” Donovan utters. “Where did you guys recruit that bastard from again?” When none of us answer—because he damn well knows the lengths Julien went to in earning his ink—he gifts us a resigned sigh.
“I’ll keep you updated.” Pausing, he gives me his own once-over and parting offering. “I’ll be easy to find.”
I mimic the nod I gave Julien before Donovan takes his own leave.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
With the three of us now isolated, Tobias resumes his part of the debriefing. “Tula won’t take my calls, but it’s only been a few days.”
Five to be exact. Days that feel like years, since I’ve refused reprieve. Each second harder to endure than the last as Tobias voices his lingering concerns to Preston about the irate donna and her refusal to engage.
Because of the legwork she and Tobias started, they have unfinished business to attend to, whether Tula likes it or not. Because of our fear and suspicion of vendetta—and in looking out for me once I got Larissa isolated—Tobias seized the opportunity to test the waters with Tula.
Taking down a don without permission from the other families is a big fucking no-no. We deduced quickly that it was one of Larissa’s most significant omissions. And we were right. Along with Larissa, Tula had been preparing for the power shift for some time.
So when Tobias reached out, offering unlimited resources and manpower, Tula latched on.
He’d even flown to Barga twice, bringing her back with him on the last trip.
With Tula by his side, Tobias was introduced to the unmet mafia, offering government perks to sweeten the opportunity to play nice.
After each meeting, once they had brainstormed on anyone who might cause future issues, Tula dealt with each swiftly.
Because of their collective efforts, we have little to worry about now in the way of retaliation, but promises were made and must be kept for that to remain the case.
The day we raided Ciro, Tula had lined up her soldiers and ours against any lingering threats. Tobias had aided in carrying out their plan as they took down one of Ciro’s most loyal—in Chicago. Which is why they were delayed in getting to Larissa and me that day.
With our Ravens spread thin in all directions, it gave me an advantage while buying time to devise a plan of retaliation against her.
With prep help from Russell, I was able to carry out most of said retaliation before the cavalry arrived.
The cavalry included Russell, but only after realizing he helped me damn myself.
The afterburn of what I thought was advantage and victory threatens to unravel me as I breathe through another wave of debilitating ache.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
In hindsight, we realized that Ciro’s downfall led to a substantial shift in both women’s favor, making Larissa and Tula two of the most formidable and powerful in the world.
Though both donnas had leveraged us, they honored their word—giving us a clear path to dismantle Ciro’s army.
In addition, we now have the leverage Ciro had stockpiled for decades, which Donovan is sorting through now.
With it, we’ll kickstart a clearer path to the long game Dom began—one I intend to play out until I’m no longer breathing.
That’s if I get a chance to start my penance.
“I love him.”
“Did you hear me, brother?” Tobias probes.
Feigning what I can, I reply robotically—just convincingly enough as Preston speaks up. “So we’re out of this clean?”
“Clean enough,” Tobias relays. “Peter got an infection, so they’re keeping him admitted until it’s cleared up.”
“Molly is anxious and will be paying him a visit for us both,” Preston relays, “but I’m here if you need anything,” he offers in farewell, his own concern for me lingering, forcing me to speak to it.
“That’s my line,” I quip, earning an answering smile. Even so, I feel the look T and Preston share before he takes his exit. The minute the door closes, the weight begins to lift as the mental tick I started years ago stops altogether.
Left …
As the alien feeling of its absence filters in, I exhale before slowly lifting my eyes to the man sitting opposite me.
“Hell of a debriefing, King. Nice and tidy, but you left some out.” His eyes instantly drop.
“Why don’t you tell me how your plan for me backfired?
” When he opens his mouth to speak, I beat him to it. “That was rhetorical, T.”
“It wasn’t a plan,” he defends.
“There’s always a plan.”
“It was a hope. For you.”
“Yeah? Pretty ruthless fucking game of matchmaker you played, don’t you think?”
“I put her in your penthouse; it was your idea to isolate her,” he hedges.
“For the mission,” I snap around that burn. “But you knew the second I was fucking her, because Sean told you.”
He shakes his head in refusal while speaking in weak defense. “It was genuine because he also wanted something for you.”
“Like the results you got?” I stand. “I have shit to do.”
Stalking out, I don’t bother to look back, because if I know my brother, and I fucking do, in minutes I’ll be inside one of the biggest battles of my life.
* * *
Sadly, he doesn’t disappoint, chest heaving, as he stands in wait at the driver’s door of my SUV, declaration ready. “I won’t let you go stealth in a way that will get you killed.”
Stalking toward him, when I chirp the doors to unlock them, his posture draws tight.
“I’m putting Russell on Preston’s detail indefinitely. In case you miss the translation—I quit.”
“If you go to her now, you’ll endanger us all,” he lies.
“Come on, you know the playbook as well as I do, brother. Now, I need you to move, and I’m not asking.”
He tilts his head as he surveys me. “Do you think I don’t want this for you?”
“I was never looking, and I don’t fucking care what you want or think,” I emit evenly. “But let me save you the trouble, I have zero chance of happiness now. And do you know why?”
“I’m not the enemy,” he pivots.
“If you’re in my way, you are,” I state as her words haunt me.
“You want the truth? Mine is that nobody is coming to deliver the life I want to me, and no one is coming to save me. Nobody ever has.”