Chapter 30 Jonathan
JONATHAN
I’d never heard silence ring so loud.
The abandoned loading facility Robert owned on the edge of the river crouched in the darkness like a thing waiting to bite.
Alex, Devin, and I moved low through the shadows, guns drawn, every footstep calculated. My pulse beat so hard it felt like it shook the ground beneath me.
Frankie was inside. Frankie Taylor, my girl, our girl—was frightened and alone.
Devin gave a signal—two fingers forward—before sliding behind a concrete pillar. I moved with him, keeping Alex at my back.
A pair of Robert’s men patrolled near the side door, arguing in hushed, angry tones. Another two paced the catwalk above.
We didn’t have the luxury of subtlety.
I surged forward first. One sharp strike of my gun handle dropped the closest guy. Devin took the other, the muffled crack barely echoing before the man collapsed.
Above us, Alex fired upward once—clean, neat—and the two on the catwalk didn’t get back up.
We slipped inside.
The place was a maze of rusted machinery and stacked crates. We moved through with more precise shots and explosions. Eventually voices drifted from somewhere deeper, barking, impatient, desperate. I recognized the tone immediately.
Robert’s men weren’t settled. They were preparing for something.
A door slammed. Then, her voice.
Frankie.
We froze. Even with my heart hammering, I could pick out her cadence, the way she always spoke with that soft edge, even when she was scared.
But she wasn’t scared now. She was furious.
“…don’t talk about them like that,” Frankie snapped.
And then—the shock that stole the air from my lungs.
“I don’t care what happens to me. But I’ll protect my baby from you.”
My vision tunneled.
My baby.
Frankie was pregnant. With one of us. With…mine? Devin’s? Alex’s?
A dozen questions slammed into me, but they all bled into one overwhelming, blistering truth.
I would kill anyone who touched her. Anyone who breathed wrong in her direction.
Alex’s hand closed around my arm, grounding me for one impossible second. Devin’s jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might shatter.
We moved in unison toward the voices.
Robert laughed—a cruel, echoing sound that tightened every muscle in my body.
“You think any of those boys can protect you? You think any of them are fit to be fathers? You’ll come back under my roof, Frankie. Whether you like it or not.”
No.
The word detonated inside me.
I signaled the others.
We kicked the door in.
Chaos exploded instantly. Three of Robert’s men lunged for their guns. Alex fired first, dropping one immediately. Devin tackled another. I took the third, slamming him into the wall hard enough that the studs cracked behind him.
Frankie’s scream cut through everything.
She was tied to a metal chair, bruised, terrified—but fierce. So unbelievably fierce.
Robert lurched toward her, gun drawn.
I didn’t remember deciding to shoot. My body moved without me. A single, perfect bullet caught him square in the chest. He staggered, shocked, reaching for something that wasn’t there. Then he fell.
It was over.
Or maybe it was just beginning.
Frankie sobbed when she saw us, and the sound nearly undid me. Devin cut her ropes, lifting her into his arms before she could collapse. Alex pressed his forehead to hers, whispering something frantic and soft.
I couldn’t move at first. The sight of her—alive, warm, breathing—hit me so hard I almost dropped to my knees.
“Jon,” she whispered, reaching for me with shaking hands.
I stepped into her hold, pulling her tightly against my chest. “I’ve got you. We’ve got you.”
She trembled. “I thought—I thought he was going to hurt the baby.”
The baby. Her baby. Our baby.
Devin’s eyes shone with something raw. Alex exhaled shakily, brushing his thumb over her cheek.
“We’ll protect both of you,” I said, feeling the vow settle deep in my bones. “Whoever the father is, it doesn’t matter. We’re all here. We’re all staying.”
Frankie broke then—sobbing, clinging to us, whispering how much she loved us, how sorry she was, how she didn’t want to lose any of us.
And I realized something. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Not of leading the family. Not of losing control. Not of loving her so much it rewired the way my heart, my fucking brain, worked.
We left the facility together, Devin carrying her until she insisted on walking, though she kept two of us pressed against her at all times. She kissed Alex’s temple for his bravery, thanked Devin for calming her, wrapped her arms around me like she needed my strength to stay upright.
“Jonathan, I’m so sorry about your dad,” she whispered to me when we got outside. “I…I would have liked to have met him.”
“I know,” I murmured, kissing her hair. “He’d have killed every man in that building to get you out, too, if he knew you. We just finished the job for him.”
She cried again. Devin and Alex wrapped around us, forming a shield, a unit, a family.
When we finally reached the SUV, Frankie looked up at all of us, eyes swollen but shining.
“Take me home,” she said. “Please. I just…I need all of you. I love you.”
It was easier than any of us ever thought it would be to say those three words right back.
We loaded into the car. We put her in the middle seat, tucked between us like she belonged there.
And maybe she always had. Tomorrow there would be blood to clean up, alliances to shift, and a new dawn for the Butera family under my name.
But tonight, tonight we were alive. Together. And our girl—our fiercest, bravest girl—was coming home with us, carrying our future in her miracle of a body.
All of us were excited to see what came next.