20. Wren
TWENTY
WREN
The sky was darker, and the moon was hidden behind clouds. The stars were visible but not nearly bright enough. I'd kept my porch light off, but Archer's hand anchored me as we walked down my driveway and scaled my porch steps.
A chill ran down my spine at how quiet the neighborhood was. "Your men are out here?"
Archer's hand found my lower back. "They are."
I pushed inside the door, holding Archer's hand, and tried to brush the feeling off. The soft lighting in my living room filtered into the foyer, where I slid my shoes off, but Archer didn't. In fact, he was completely frozen as his gaze went over my shoulder.
I turned to see what he was staring at and tried to calm my breathing.
My mother sat on one of my couches, her hands folded across her chest and an angry scowl on her face. On the other couch, twisting at the waist to see me, was my brother.
A gasp of surprise cut into my voice as I greeted him. "Juan?"
His eyes grew as he looked me over, and then a smile. A genuine one. "Henrietta."
Archer's gaze never left Juan's. Even as my real name was spoken out loud, and I'd never even told him. Regardless that he insinuated he knew, I still had never shared it.
"It's Wren now."
Juan merely dipped his face, nodding. "Heard that, actually, but figured the first time we spoke in almost twenty years, I'd use your real name."
My gaze flitted over his form, trying to pick at who he was and compare it to who he seemed to be now. He appeared older yet looked almost the same as I remembered him. He had the same defined jaw, a narrow nose, and the same dark brows that arched nicely over his amber-brown eyes. A few lines appeared near his eyes and near his mouth. Smile lines. Which led me to believe my brother led a happy life. He had the same black hair but with a few streaks of gray styled so it fell back from his face, just a tiny piece touching his brow. He was as tall as Archer but not as broad. Juan had a narrow frame, and everything about him seemed as it was nearly twenty years ago when I last saw him, all except the gold wedding band around his left ring finger.
He stood slowly as if he didn't want to scare me off. Archer took up residence behind me, like a guard on duty. I was grateful that my mother had been here to put my son to bed, especially with how late I had come in; guilt still tugged at my belly, making me feel like I'd done something wrong by leaving.
"What are you—" I started, but he dipped his head, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wore tan cigar pants with a thin, long-sleeved knit shirt. The gray hue made his dark hair pop against his brown skin in the low lighting of my living room.
"Been a long time." He cut me off.
As I stared at him, my eyes watered, and I processed how much time had passed. How he'd been a part of so much of my childhood, and then when my mother took him with her, he wasn't. They'd left me behind, and I'd never even explained how much that hurt.
Examining his face, I tried again and skipped over whatever pleasantries he wanted to share. "What are you doing here?"
His eyes flicked to Archer, then me. "Right to it then. Okay."
My mother muttered something in Spanish, and at that moment, I wanted to stop everything and introduce Archer. I wanted to tell them that I had a boyfriend and was happy and in love, but I knew my family wouldn't be excited for me—not if our families had been at war for twenty years.
Archer shifted so he stood next to me, then wrapped his hand around mine.
Juan caught the movement and glared over my shoulder. "I'm here to deliver a warning. One I hope you both heed because as much as I have tried to fix things, it's officially out of my hands."
I glanced up at Archer, but his jaw was tense, and his gaze was locked on Juan.
My brother continued, "Recently, there has been a change in leadership within El Peligro. The new leaders are not only young but ruthless. Archer, I'm sure you've noticed a few warnings being issued to your men."
I saw Archer nod out of the corner of my eye, but he was tense, too, like he was ready to run at Juan at any second.
My brother toyed with a string on his slacks before continuing. "I was made aware of a plan they have to take you out. Since you're seeing my sister, I came here to remove her from the situation. You need to stop seeing each other."
My mother scoffed, adding, "Should have never started to begin with."
Take him out. What did that mean? My heart raced at my brother's words; he was already talking again before I could respond.
"Renny, you either come home and allow Archer to remain here, or Archer, you need to go back to where your club is. Leave my sister and nephew alone."
"Neither of those options are happening." Archer's voice was calm but deadly.
My mother muttered something about me being irresponsible, and I shot her a scowl.
Juan watched Archer, steady and solemn. Both of them looked like they were two seconds from pulling weapons on each other.
Archer gave in first, asking, "Want to clue me in on why this is happening with the new leadership? I don't understand what changed."
Juan's jaw tensed before his eyes found the floor. It was a move he kept making, and it seemed so strange compared to the person he used to be. My brother used to stare people in the eye until they backed down. He'd never lower his head in shame like this. It made me want to press pause on all this and pull him away, asking what the hell was going on with him.
"We've been at war with each other since my father ran things. He always wanted the territory west of Manhattan. Ten years ago, it came into our possession through a game of cards, but your club never recognized the change of ownership. At the time, I was running things, and because I was pushing to improve the route, and what you were pushing wasn't damaging the neighborhoods, I didn't care that you kept it."
Archer shifted next to me. "Pardon my language, but what the fuck are you talking about? Ten years ago, I was president. I would have known about such a game and something as big as territory shifting."
Juan's head tilted. "I didn't play for it. Looks like you didn't either."
"No one in my club would have been authorized to make a decision that big, although it sounds like someone on your end was given that freedom on behalf of El Peligro."
My brother's mouth curled into a smile. "Several years back, a player came onto the scene. Most mob bosses on the Upper East Side dealt with him, but you might have heard of him. They called him, The Joker . He reset the scene, took territories, and essentially wiped the board clean of players. He participated for me."
Archer squeezed my hand. "And what proof do you have that my club was involved?"
"Just the word of that man," Juan lazily drawled, stroking his jaw.
I watched his body language, seeing the differences in all the years we'd been apart. I knew how his fingers drummed against his thigh that he was itching to grab a throwing knife. I knew he likely had at least two on him right now. In turn, he might be watching my movements, and while I hadn't thrown a knife in years, muscle memory had my fingers flexing.
My father taught him, but he also instructed me. While Juan was with my mother in Mexico, I was with my aunt and my uncle, training, learning, and listening.
"Regardless. The territory has been ours, but we didn't enforce it. New leaders feel differently."
"What changed?" I asked, trying to piece together what was going on. But I wanted a bigger picture. I wanted a detailed list of what he'd done over the past nineteen years. I needed more than these tiny crumbs he was giving me.
The smallest wince crept into Juan's expression. I probably would have missed it if I hadn't been studying him so intensely. "While I ran it, I wasn't focused on making money. I merely wanted to help people."
"How very Robin Hood of you," Archer joked with a scoff.
My brother flipped him off. "Think what you want, but it was helping. We were changing things."
"But then why?—"
Juan shook his head. "I can't tell you everything you want to know right now, Renny. I wish I could. I'd tell you why I let go of our father's legacy, but it would take too much time. Right now, I need you to leave and I need you to understand that for the foreseeable future, you can't be with him."
"How will us breaking up stop a war?" Archer's fingers stroked the inside of my hand.
"It won't," Juan said, adding, "I just don't want my sister or nephew here when the war starts. I know you're about to get custody of your kid brother. It might make more sense for you to stay and have Wren leave. But let me be clear." His gaze was deadly as he stared Archer down. "You are not staying together. It's no longer safe for my sister to be near you or your club."
Juan glanced over his shoulder at our mother, giving her a soft smile before addressing Archer again. "I'd invite you to meet my mother, but she's far less pleasant than me."
My mother stood up and walked over to us.
"Let me meet him." Her shrewd eyes took him in, drank him up, and I saw the flicker of something like admiration there.
I had expected her to spew horrible things at Archer, but suddenly, he let my hand go and stuck it out for her.
"It's nice to meet you. I'm Archer Green, and I'm in love with your daughter and care for your grandson like he's mine. I sincerely hope you understand when I tell you I won't be going anywhere, and if Wren leaves, I will follow."
My mother's lips pursed. "You love her?"
"I love them both," Archer clarified, and my heart felt like it had swooped into my belly. Her eyes seemed to stay on Archer's, and then she swung her head over to look at Juan.
"Fui terrible con Taylor al principio".
Juan's eyes flickered as if he was going back to what my mother had said about how she'd been terrible to his wife at the beginning of their relationship. A wife I had never met, a daughter he'd adopted that I had never seen. He smiled and nodded.
"You were pretty terrible to her in the beginning."
My mom gently took Archer's hand in hers. "I misunderstood and don't wish to do that again."
Archer's eyes watered the slightest bit as my mother's face lifted, and a smile curved her lips.
"I am Anna. It's lovely to meet you." Then she hugged him.
My mother hugged my boyfriend, the man I loved and had just been told to break up with. Archer hugged her back, and my brother sighed like this frustrated him.
"Mama, you can't hug him. We just threatened him."
"Then unthreaten him," my mother said, untangling herself from Archer's hold.
I decided to be bold, and I stepped closer to my brother. One step.
Another.
I was directly in front of him, and I could see more wrinkles. He was forty now, and seeing the change up close broke my heart.
"We've been apart for almost twenty years, Juan." Tears gathered in my eyes, and I saw them also start to cloud my brother's.
His voice was thick with emotion when he said, "You didn't stick around long enough to hear that I was changing everything. We turned El Peligro into something good. It helps the community. People get excited when they see us in the streets. We protect people…we—" His voice trailed off as emotion clogged his throat.
"We did…at least. I made it something I could be proud of."
I wrapped my arms around my brother's waist and hugged him as tightly as possible. His scent hit me, taking me back to being sixteen and getting my last hug from him. To when I would sneak into his room, looking for cigarettes. Even further back when I wanted to see if he'd stolen my Barbie or had a spare GI Joe that I could use as one of my Ken dolls. I didn't dare go back to when he'd braid my hair and play with me like I was his favorite person.
He hugged me back, and I heard my mother sniff, and then Juan pulled away.
"You need to listen to me, Henrietta. I have tried to stop them. I have done all that I can do, but a war is on its way. You need to be as far away from him as possible. If he really loves you, he knows I'm right. You and Cruz need to leave with us and go back to North Carolina, so you remain safe."
Archer cleared his throat, and I felt his hand find mine, lightly tugging me back. But I had to ask because I was so confused.
"Juan, who's leading El Peligro now, and wh?—"
A clicking sound started near the front door, making me stop mid-sentence. All of us turned toward the sound, and I watched in horror as my deadbolt slid back and the knob turned.
Archer shifted in front of me, pulling me behind him right as my mother ran around me into Cruz's bedroom. My heart was in my throat as I tried to process what was happening, but it was all too fast.
"Fuck." My brother spat, running his hand through his hair while he took a position to stand in front of Archer, and a mere two seconds later, I realized why.
My front door opened, and a younger version of my brother stepped inside.
No.
Two near-identical versions of my brother stepped inside my house, smiling as if they'd found something extremely amusing.
"Hola Daddio." One of them gave Juan a nod while swinging his focus to Archer. He was taller than my brother but years younger. He looked eighteen or maybe in his early twenties. His dark hair was thick and swept back, similar to my brother's. His skin was lighter, though, and his eyes were blue, which he must have gotten from his mother, or so I assumed. He wore a black hoodie over black jeans and thick boots.
The second twin stepped in, somber and seemingly more serious. His attire was identical to his twin's, but his hair was shaved closer on the sides and left longer on top. His eyes were amber like his father's, and like mine, and his skin was more tan than brown. But what set him apart other than his hair and eyes was the scar that ran through his left eyebrow. The way he watched us and surveyed the room gave off a sinister feeling.
Fear slithered into my stomach, deep down grabbing hold of old memories and tossing them around in my chest like shrapnel. These boys had the same look in their eyes that my father used to get. These boys were the leaders. While they hadn't said it, I knew it in my bones. My brother couldn't control them…and they were his sons.
This was bad.
Juan's jaw flexed as ten men filtered into my house behind my nephews. Finally, there was silence once the door was shut until Juan spoke up.
"I told you to give me tonight."
The one with blue eyes clicked his tongue. "Father, you should know that we don't bend to demands, even when they come from you. We know you have a soft spot for our aunt." His eyes flicked over to me quickly, then back to his father. "Whereas we do not, seeing as we've never met her."
Archer started laughing, making my head snap over to him. "These are the new leaders of El Peligro? Your sons. These are the ones you can't control?"
The twin with blue eyes seemed amused and took a step forward. "Tía, you may want to slide to the side if you don't want to get blood on your face. By the way, I'm Giovanni. You can call me Gio. It's nice to finally meet you. My mother will be happy to hear that you're well. She's requested we keep you that way."
Archer produced a gun, and in the blink of an eye, it was pointed at my nephew's head.
"My men will be here in thirty seconds if I don't check in with them. I suggest you leave before this turns into a blood bath."
Gio smiled while the other twin looked like he'd found a complication with a furrow to his dark brows.
Juan stepped forward. "Kingston, Gio. This is your family; you're crossing a line. Let me get her and her son to safety before you start this."
Kingston was his other son, the serious one.
They didn't look at their father; they continued to watch Archer, waiting to see what he would do.
"Your men are dead," Gio finally confessed, letting out a tired sigh.
Archer froze, and I knew his breathing had stopped.
Kingston slid his hands into his pockets, and I watched as Juan's gaze slid down, his jaw tensing.
"Don't," he warned Kingston.
The serious twin finally spoke, tilting his head. "He is not a part of our family."
It was as if, on cue, one of his men walked out of my bedroom, holding my property patch.
Gio moved to the left and clapped his hands together softly. "Well, well. Looks like maybe Archer is a part of our family."
"Brother, should we give him a chance to explain why he's still using our territory and recently stole from us?"
"I have never stolen from you," Archer spat, his breathing ragged, "and as I told your father, I was unaware of any territory shift."
Kingston's gaze slid to my brother, and I saw Juan nod. "It's true."
"Who brokered it?" Gio asked, holding my property patch and inspecting all the patches.
"Kyle," Juan answered.
Kingston froze, his eyes swinging back to his father too quickly for me not to notice that whoever this Kyle person was, mattered in some significant way.
"You know damn well I have more men than who was patrolling here. This is going to be a blood bath. Get her and Cruz the fuck out of here!" Archer yelled, raising his gun, surrendering.
My heart dropped. It was like watching a powerful storm bow down to a tiny current of wind.
"Please, just get them out."
I tugged on his arm. "Archer, I'm not leaving without you." But my mind raced to Cruz. Would they do this, knowing he was here?
The sound of a lighter clicking had my head swinging over. Gio held my property patch in one hand, and under it, he held a silver zippo lighter.
"No!" Archer's voice cracked, and then something inside me snapped. I wasn't going to lose him. I couldn't.
Gio smiled. "Not family anymore." The leather caught fire, and I screamed while lunging toward my nephew. Juan caught me at the waist right as the back sliding door burst open. Glass flew everywhere as I ducked down, and Juan's hands came over my head, protecting me. Gunshots rang out, making the couch and chair explode with fabric and cotton. My kitchen table was suddenly flipped over by someone and used as a shield. I crawled to my son's room, glass and debris under my palms and knees as I went. Then, it all stopped in an instant as Archer started screaming.
"Stop. Stop."
Juan was yelling, too. My brother and Archer stood in the middle of the room with arms stretched out, their panic-stricken gazes landing on all the chaos in the room.
Tears streaked my cheeks as I looked up and saw men in Mayhem Riot cuts with guns raised, pointed at my nephews and the men with them. Kingston and Gio had guns extended toward them.
It was silent for two seconds without anyone shooting when all of a sudden, I heard the smallest crack of a door, and out walked my mother, holding Cruz to her chest.
He was crying, and so was she. My chest pinched with something tight, a coil of fear wrapping around my lungs and squeezing as I watched my son helplessly. Everything I had tried to protect him from just exploded in one night all over our living room floor. My mother soothed his back, and a sob escaped my mouth.
Archer had tears in his eyes as he lowered to the ground, sitting on his knees with me.
"Please, let them leave." He cried, and it shattered something deeper in me.
"Kingston. Giovanni," My mother snapped, and I saw both of my nephews pale, lowering their guns immediately.
“Abuela,” Gio whispered.
My leather cut was on the floor somewhere. I had no idea if it was still burning.
"Why is she here?" Kingston snapped.
"Trajiste la muerte aquí.”
"Grandma, we?—"
My mother's body was shaking. "You disgrace your mother, your sister, and your entire family."
Their heads bowed.
"You will leave this instant. You will not return here. Whatever debt you have with this man will be settled outside this neighborhood. Away from families."
I screamed at my brother, at my nephews, "What the fuck kind of monsters did you breed?"
I ambled to my feet, stepping on glass, moving to my mother, taking Cruz from her, and then I took several steps behind Archer's men, knowing I was safest with them. They moved forward, I knew they were trying to get their president behind their line of fire, but if they did, it would cause another gunfight.
"We're leaving," Juan said, placing his hands on his son's shoulders and pulling them aside.
Kingston's eyes shuttered as he looked at my son who'd raised his head, staring right at them.
"Who are they?"
I pat his back, glaring directly at my nephews. "They're no one."
Juan's head snapped back, staring at me, and something like a knife slid through my sternum. This hurt. All of it. I wanted to go back and find out what had happened. My brother was always a good man, until he'd taken over my father's gang. But why had his sons chosen this if he was telling the truth about turning El Peligro around? What happened to them to cause such darkness?
Both of my brother's sons walked with him, their men exiting as if they'd never been here to begin with.
Archer's club remained in place, their guns up. My mother turned toward me, tears in her eyes.
"I'm so sorry."
Archer was there, pulling her into a hug. His eyes were red as he stared at me with my mother tucked under his chin.
It wasn't her fault, and it wasn't Juan's, either. I didn't know who to blame; I just felt angry and scared.
"We need to go." Archer finally released my mother, then slid his gun into the back waist of his jeans. "You need to pack bags for both of you."
I moved on frozen feet.
"I will help pack Cruz's," my mother offered, moving to his bedroom.
I handed my son back to her so he could tell her what to pack. He was particular about what toys and blankets he took. Thistle was in the room with us, which I hadn't really processed, and moved with my mother, so they had someone with them in the room while they packed.
He gave my arm a gentle squeeze before striding after them.
Tucking some of my hair back, I turned toward the hall where Gio had held my property patch and found Archer crouched down, gently cradling it.
That pain came back, slicing through me. My feet moved over the carpet, and a few pieces of glass were in my way, so I tiptoed as best I could until I was next to Archer.
The bottom of my leather cut was singed and melted, but it hadn't gotten so far that the entire thing was ruined. There was a burn mark on the back where Archer's name was, interrupting the C and H in his name.
I stroked over his neck and bent down next to him, pulling it from his hands. "Still mine."
His red eyes shuttered as his head lifted.
I gripped his hand and pulled him until he followed me to my room. I knew his men would be directly outside the door and likely outside our window, but I just needed to have him alone for a few seconds.
The door closed behind us, and I carefully set my property patch on the bed.
"Talk to me, Archer." I went to my closet and pulled down a duffel bag.
He sat down on my bed and placed his head in his hands.
"I can't—" he started, but then he coughed, and I realized it was a sob, and he was falling apart. Shifting away from the closet, I went to him, bending on my knees until I was directly in front of him. I stroked his hair and kissed along his jaw.
"We're okay." I kissed the shell of his ear and pushed the stray strands of hair back before moving to the next ear. "We're going to make it. All of us."
His hands moved to my face, pulling me in for a kiss. His mouth moved over mine, hungry and desperate. His tongue slid into my mouth, and then he pulled me up and carried me into my bathroom.
He shut the door and turned on the shower. We stripped hastily, our mouths returning to one another in a rapid desperation. My fingers were at his neck, tugging on his hair. His hands were in mine, stroking and pulling while we ambled into the shower.
We stood under the hot spray while he continued to kiss me. Then, once he finally broke away, he rasped low and guttural against my ear.
"Turn around and place your hands against the tile."