17. Roman
Chapter 17
Roman
“R oman!” my father barks, gaining my attention. “My study. Now.”
I sigh, pocketing my phone, and follow him to his study like a good little lapdog. It’s been like this for years—listen and follow along or suffer a beating so bad I can’t walk for days.
I walk into the study, Crew and Elijah already sitting there. “Take a seat,” my father commands, his voice colder than I’d like to admit.
I hesitate, my jaw clenching as I war with myself on walking out and telling him to stuff it. The last thing I want to do is sit across from him and pretend like I’m okay with whatever mess he’s about to force on me.
I shoot a quick glance at Crew and Elijah, both of them already sitting stiffly like they’ve been here for a while. What I don’t understand is why he’s done it so far apart.
I sit down, ignoring the way my chest tightens. My dad doesn’t waste any time with pleasantries. He never does. “I’m sending you to a university out of state. You’ll be there to expand my product. Distribute it, grow it. I want results, do you understand?”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I force myself to swallow back the bile rising in my throat. Does he know about me and Pacheco’s deal? No, I’d already be on the floor writhing in pain if he did. Dad was never one to let things lie. Always quick to anger. Quick to use his fists. No, if my father knew, I’d be back at square one, facing the wrath of a man who doesn’t let anything slide.
I clench my fists under the table, trying to keep my voice steady as I speak on behalf of myself and the two men I call brothers. “Yeah, I understand,” I say, my voice betraying none of the frustration that I can feel boiling inside me. The last thing I want to do is let my father know he’s got to me.
He nods, satisfaction creeping into his expression. “Good. I knew you would see reason. You’ll leave in a week, and I expect you to settle in quickly. Make friends . Crew, you’ll be the main man I want to see distributing the product. Elijah, you’ll be attending classes, gaining access to the parties, and finding out who might need that extra little push for exam season. Roman…” My father’s eyes flick to mine, narrowing. “You will be my eyes and ears. I want to know who is in power there and find out if they are involved with the other families.”
I force a nod, even as my mind races. Seven days. That’s barely enough time for me to sort my team for sorting out the weapon shipment for Pacheco. And yet, I know better than to defy him. I need to play the long game to finally get rid of him with the backing of the other families.
My father looks at Crew and Elijah. “Do not disappoint me.”
Elijah tightens his grip on the chair, rage in his eyes, but he stays silent. My father owns him just as much as he owns Crew and me, and he hates it.
“Got it,” I say, standing up before I can say anything I’ll regret.
We all stand in unison, turning to leave. Crew gives me a sympathetic look, but Elijah? He’s as stoic as ever. His face shut down like it has been since we found out she was gone.
My father’s cold eyes follow us as we walk out, the door shutting softly behind us. Crew opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head. “Not here.”
We walk in silence down the hallway, the weight of my father’s orders pressing down on me. Crew’s footsteps echo, his usual confidence subdued, and I narrow my eyes at his back, worrying that he’s high again .
Elijah walks ahead, his posture rigid, his mind clearly elsewhere, and no longer the boy he was before he murdered his father.
I can feel Crew’s eyes on me as we approach the door, but I don’t look at him. Too scared that I’ll see his blown pupils staring back at me. I need a minute to breathe before I feel like I need to deal with yet another problem, and to try to attempt to push back the anger that’s threatening to burst out of me.
Seven days. Seven damn days to tie up any loose ends in this state before we’re sent away to whatever place he wants us to go for however long he wants us there, play nice with my father’s plan, and keep my own business under the radar to try to save me and my friends from being under his thumb forever.
It feels like a trap, but what else is new?
I swing open the garage door, and we step out into the cool air. The sound of the city hums in the distance, but right now, it feels miles away. I light a cigarette and take a drag, the smoke filling my lungs and offering a brief moment of peace.
Crew leans against my car, his arms crossed. “You okay, Roman?”
I flick the ash away, my eyes narrowing. “Yeah. I’m fine. Are you?”
It’s a lie. I’m anything but fine.
My father’s ultimatum is like a cage closing in around me. I’m being sent off to do his dirty work again , pretend the men beside me aren’t falling apart, and act like a team while secretly I’ve been making moves behind his back. Pacheco’s deal—one that can save us all—was supposed to be the start of my way out. Loyalty against the families once I take my father down, my ticket to freedom. But now? Now, I have to wait while I pretend to be the dutiful son, the loyal soldier.
“I’m fine.” Crew replies with a slight tone of defensiveness. He picks at his fingernails as I stare at him, a nervous habit he’s developed in the last two years.
I meet his eyes, trying to keep my voice steady and calm, and push down the anger threatening to build. “I need you to keep your head in the game. Don’t let him see anything, and no getting high.”
Crew nods, his lips curling into a half-smile that even I know is fake as his eyes flick to the left, avoiding mine. “Don’t worry.”
“We do worry that’s the problem,” Elijah snarks, his voice hoarse from disuse. He rarely spoke before, much preferring actions to words, but nowadays, it’s almost as if he’s mute, seeing no point in using words when she isn’t here for him to taunt.
I glance at him, my mind racing. Elijah’s angry. He’s always angry about something, especially since my father bailed him out of jail, making deals to get him free and then using it to make him his pawn. Something Elijah tried to prevent by killing his dad, only to end up under my father’s thumb. He’s pissed about the deal I made with Pacheco, but I had no choice, not when the promise of him backing me against the other families is too high. He’s also pissed about the life we’ve been forced into, not that I can blame him, but it’s the burden of our DNA, and we have no other choice. I know there’s no way he’s going to be happy about our newest task, but we have to do it.
“You haven’t really given us any other choice but to,” I say, flicking ash.
Crew’s expression darkens just like it always does when he gets defensive. “I’m not fucking high.”
“Not yet, but you will be by the end of the night.” I retort, unable to help myself. We’ve tried getting him help, offering him the best rehabs in the US, but he’s too indebted to my father that he won’t do anything that will risk what we have planned, and I can’t keep an eye on him twenty-four seven.
Crew’s shoulders stiffen, and for a moment, I think he’s going to snap like he would have in the past. Instead, he exhales sharply, a slow breath that lets me know he’s reigning himself in. I just don’t know if it’s for my sake or his own.
“Roman,” Crew starts, his voice quiet. “I’m not fucking high.” The emphasis on the word feels as if he’s challenging me, daring me to doubt him just like I always do.
I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen him spiral, and I know the signs. He’s already halfway down that road, and no matter how much he fights it, he won’t stay clean for more than a week. He never does.
We don’t have time for this, though, and I can’t afford to keep babysitting him. I’ve been picking up the pieces since we got the news she was dead, and I’m done. If I let him continue to get too deep into whatever this is—whether it’s the drugs or the anger at losing her, it’s going to drag all of us down. And we can’t afford distractions.
“I know you’re not right now, but it’s only a matter of time. You’ve been slipping, and I don’t have time for you to fall apart. We’ve got bigger problems than you getting high.”
The silence stretches between us, and like always, Elijah says nothing, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed, watching us. He’s still lost in his anger and guilt, blaming us for pushing her away. Or maybe he’s just given up on trying to talk. Either way, it’s like his presence is just a shadow now.
Crew doesn’t say anything straight away, eyeing us both as if we’re going to pounce on him if he does. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eyes unfocused. “Yeah. Whatever. I’ll keep it together.” But there’s something hollow in his voice, and I know he’s only agreeing to avoid an argument that we seem to have so often.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I don’t know how long I can keep pretending that everything is okay and that we are all fine when we are anything but.
But I can’t fall apart; I don’t have the option to—not yet, not when we’re so close.
Seven days.
I need Crew to stay in line. I need Elijah to start acting like family again instead of drifting away. Then again, maybe his new wife has something to do with it. I need to make sure the deal with Pacheco goes through so I can get out of my father’s shadow and do what needs to be done.
If I fail, I may as well sign my own death warrant.
I exhale, trying to compose myself, throwing the last of my cigarette onto the pavement and crushing it under my boot. “We don’t have the fucking luxury of fucking around. I don’t know if we’re going to make it out of this. Do you understand?”
Elijah grunts, his eyes narrowing. I know he hates this, being in my father’s debt, and what that means if we are caught doing this, but it needs to be done. And Crew… he doesn’t say anything, his jaw clenches, the lines of his face drawn tight, and I know he’s feeling the withdrawals from the drugs.
I turn to the car, refusing to wait for an answer any longer, and pull the keys from my pocket. We’re all wearing the same masks, pretending to be something we’re not when all we want to do is fall apart. I can see the cracks forming, threatening to break through our carefully constructed facades.
They follow, and we climb into the car without uttering another word to one another, and I start the engine. The low hum of the car fills the space, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.
We drive in silence for a while, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I can feel the weight of everything we need to do pressing down on me—on all of us.
Finally, Elijah breaks the silence, his voice low. “You really think we can do this?”
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles going white. I can feel Elijah’s eyes on me, his usual cold, detached stare replaced with a challenging one. I know why he’s asking. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. It’s the only answer I have for them. “But I know it’s the only shot we have. And I’m not about to sit around with my finger up my ass waiting for him to kill us all because we’re no use to him anymore, one by one.”
Elijah’s gaze softens just a fraction, but it’s enough to make me feel like I’ve said something right. Crew, on the other hand, remains silent, staring out the window as we drive through the now-empty streets. I don’t know where his head’s at, but I don’t have the luxury of trying to figure it out right now.
The city fades into the background as I drive to our warehouse. The plan is simple for tonight. Make sure the shipment for Pacheco is started, keep an eye on my father to make sure he’s not on to us, and avoid my father’s spies. It’s the kind of thing we’ve done a hundred times before.
But this time, it’s different. I’m so close to getting where we wanted to be, what we sacrificed everything for to get here.
Seven days before we’re out of here and starting new in another state for god knows how long, and I’m determined to get this order to Pacheco before we go.