Chapter Fifty-One
Trust me, there is nothing I want to do more right now than take a fucking shower. Have a beer.
Get fucking laid. Jesus, it’s been way too long. Two days?! Fuck that shit.
But I can’t just leave all these people standing by wondering what the hell’s going on.
We’ve been in here a while. Tucked away in Oscar’s Attic, having a private discussion with the enemy. Laughing and cheering from inside.
Jesus, they probably have no idea what’s happening.
Made worse when we all step out together. And The Ivory wants to pay Byron Kang a quarter-million dollars to beat the shit out of Linetti.
I wish I didn’t find it so hilarious…
Look, I love Linetti like a brother. All of these guys, they’re family.
Whether it’s Osmond, this quiet dude who’s been with us for about three years and mostly keeps to himself—when he wasn’t ripping lines off the girls’ tits during the parties—or Jermaine, #40.
Killed his girlfriend and her family when he found out she was cheating on him—she was cheating on him with an NYPD Sergeant.
Every able body who rallied for me, who fought with me because they knew it was the right thing to do for us—prisoners and guards alike. It’s time to show them how grateful I am for their sacrifice, their loyalty.
Alabaster Penitentiary doesn’t exist anymore, and because of that, there are no prisoners, or guards.
It’s just us. And we fucking did it.
We made it to the end.
I think the humor slips away from el jefe the moment he steps back out into the woods and sees all the dirty, battered, angry and exhausted faces staring back at him. The giant goddamn mess that this island has become over the course of about a month.
Those rose-colored glasses slip right off when he realizes we won’t be launching right into fun times with bottles popping and watching people kick the shit out of each other. Business does need to be attended to first, which is certainly a buzzkill.
Still, I can see where his one-track mind is aimed… at Linetti.
Apparently, Linetti boned Ari. He was one of several, while she was partying with us—and sneaking around the prison, a la Dascha’s twisted mind—and because he is very much that possessive psychopath we’ve all been focusing our hatred on for years, he’s more consumed by wanting to see a person who put it in his boyfriend bleed than the hundreds of people standing around—many of whom are also bleeding—waiting for some goddamn instruction on what the hell happens now.
The Isle is a disaster. Fires burning nearby from the explosions. Trees down everywhere.
Bodies…
Yes, there have been casualties. I wasn’t really even processing it until right fucking now, but Jesus, it just hit me upside the head.
And now the adrenaline is pumping again as I steel myself for more…
Just a little bit more work. Hang in there… you’ll be sitting back with drink, maybe a smoke, and some fucking orgasms soon enough.
We’re in the homestretch.
“Hang back.” I grab The Ivory by the arm, striding in front of him.
He doesn’t appear in any way put out by me taking charge of the situation, which is crazy. I still can’t believe this is the same guy who’s been tormenting me for years. All because… what? He had a crush on me??
It’s insane. But also… sort of flattering?
And in the deepest corners of my mind, I can admit that while the punishments did suck, there were moments of it that I enjoyed. More than I care to admit, and more than I’ll ever admit to him, though I’m sure he knows.
Regardless of everything we’ve been through, he does know me. Very well.
My beef with him is infinitely more rooted in the emotional stuff. The head games—completely unnecessary, too.
Imagine the things we could have done if he’d just been normal and, like…
made a move or something. I’m not saying I would have said yes, or dated him, or anything like that.
But I was every bit as drunk on the power of this place as he was.
Together, we could have made a truly terrifying, yet unstoppable, duo.
But he didn’t want that. He wanted a pet because he needs to own all the power.
At least, until the kid came along, I guess.
Angel Alvarez has his work cut out for him with that one. I can’t imagine being in a relationship with Manuel Blanco. But that’s because I have the best partners in the world, and I can’t imagine being with anyone who isn’t them.
At the end of the day, I could have bashed his brains in hundreds of times over the years while he was reigning his dominance over me.
But I didn’t because some part of me needed some part of what was happening.
What I didn’t need was the emotional and mental torture; his need to dominate not my body, but my mind, is what brought us to right here and now.
And for that, I do believe he’s as remorseful as he’s capable.
“Listen up,” I bark to the crowd. Ivory holds up his walkie, so the rest of his men can hear this too. “The war is over. We won.”
I wasn’t planning to pause there, but the rampant roaring cheers are loud enough that I have to stop for a moment. Grinning.
It’s so badass that we actually did it. This ragtag group of heathens actually defeated the cartel. And sure, maybe it wasn’t our brute strength that fired the kill shot, but that doesn’t matter. What’s important is that this is finally over.
And we’re victorious.
You can defeat El Diablo. But only if you’re devilish too.
“To everyone on our side—Team Alabaster—lower your weapons. Take a breath. We did it.”
I can almost feel a collective sigh of relief. As if the island itself is finally able to drop its shoulders and relax.
We go about instructing our men what to do next, from both sides. But The Ivory is very clear that the cartel will handle all the clean-up. He’s also using his resources to get our injured medical attention, which he seems to be taking very seriously.
He’s a hundred times less aggressively barky than he has been in at least ten years…
It’s pretty interesting to witness. I feel like I’m standing beside the Manuel Blanco I met thirteen years ago.
Not a good person by any stretch of the imagination, but still so much more human than the person he became.
And part of me has to wonder if it was just this island that did it to him… More specifically, the prison. A combination of circumstances that all lead back to Alabaster Penitentiary. The dark mother who made us all into vile little monsters.
Thank God she’s dead.
Pedroia steps up to me, and I immediately square my shoulders. But he’s instantly a million times less smug than he’s been during all of our previous interactions.
“Whatever you need,” he says, tone deflated and tired.
Maybe he’s not happy about how this turned out. But at the end of the day, they were all just followings orders. This wasn’t their fight. They were bodies. Robots with one objective: do what The Ivory says.
And now he’s saying, Stand down. That’s it.
“This is bullshit!” One of The Ivory’s men hisses, stomping over. “So that’s it?? We’re all just gonna lie down after weeks of fighting for this place??” He glares at The Ivory. “You’re just giving it up to this prick?”
My lips twitch and I gesture to myself. Who, me?
The Ivory lets out an exasperated breath, stepping forward. “Qué pasa, Dominguez? Honestly, why do you care? You don’t live here. This island means nothing to you.”
His tone is calm, annoyed, but overall casual. Until, in a blink, he shifts. Eyes darkening, underlying vicious dominance shining through the obsidian.
I recognize that look all too well, stepping back a bit.
Leaning in closer to the man’s face, he growls, “Are you suggesting we measure dicks right now? Because I assure you, no one wants to take a ruler to your polla pequenita.” He sticks out his pinky, wiggling it. I snort.
The guy, Dominguez, is turning red. “I thought you wanted that asshole’s head on a pike!”
Ivory rolls his eyes to the heavens, peeking at me. “May I please have my pistol?”
My smirk goes sinister. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”
I nod Peters over, who comes stomping up to us, handing The Ivory his chrome, pearl-handled Beretta. The thing is gorgeous.
“W-wait… no,” Dominguez backs up.
Ivory cocks his gun.
The guy turns and runs away. But The Ivory fires, hitting his foot.
Dominguez screams in pain, falling to the ground, clutching his bloody boot.
Ivory tucks the gun away with a sigh and calls to the guys who are moving our injured out of the armory. “Let them know we’ll have one more on the chopper.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
“It’s as easy as keeping your fucking mouths shut,” he barks to the rest of them, all standing by, wide-eyed and nervous. “For the last time, because you know how much I loathe repeating myself… if any of you hijos de putas have anything else to say, now’s the fucking time!”
His roar echoes, sending cartel men scattering like roaches, hustling to get their asses in gear while the rest of us cackle and whoop.
“Man, I love that line,” Byron sighs.
Angel looks visibly excited, kissing Ivory on the neck while he chuckles. I’m assuming they’re both big Kill Bill fans, being that Angel quoted Part 1 himself earlier.
“How long have you been waiting to use that one?” I ask, amusement dancing on my lips.
“Jesus, I’ve probably used it already at some point,” Ivory snickers. “Pretty sure my first meeting with the lieutenants after I took over played out similarly to that meeting with O-ren Ishii and the Crime Council.”
“That’s so awesome.” Angel wiggles, beaming.
“Just a big fat group of Tarantino Stans over here, huh?” I snicker.
“Hell yea,” Dash says on his way past, with Kemper attached to him like a shadow.