Chapter 23
“How are the boys?”
Enzo rolled his eyes as he hung up the phone. “Ma says they complained for hours after we left, pretty much proving they are definitely not old enough to participate in a—”
“Murder?” Seven said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Yeah,” Enzo said, shaking his head.
They’d dropped the boys at the house after their visit with Calliope and asked Mama if they could attend the midnight meeting Brioni had set up. It wasn’t Mama who shut the plan down but the boys’ father.
Dario had squashed the idea immediately, saying they should wait until they were adults.
If they were caught, it could ruin everything, not just for them but for the whole family.
Seven supposed he was right. Had he been caught at that age, he likely would have ended up in a cell right next to his father no matter how hard Jericho would have tried to save him.
They didn’t have Freckles back then to use his money and influence.
Would he have survived a police interrogation?
Seven liked to think so, but he’d barely endured the night terrors that haunted him back then, much less the reality of day-to-day prison life.
Being an accomplice to murder sounded badass until you were sat in a cell and realized toughness didn’t pay for bail, cover commissary, or watch your back for you in the showers.
The thought of metal bars and fluorescent lights made his stomach ice over.
The thought of turning out just like his father was an iceberg in his guts.
“Are they pouting about it?”
Enzo kept his eyes on the road. The dashboard hummed, tires whispering over the highway seams, music playing softly over the Bose speakers.
“No. Mama said they accepted their fate when she agreed they could train to ‘hack the planet’ with Calliope,” he said, amusement threading his voice.
“They took off for the movies with their friends hours ago.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess.” Seven watched the streetlights blur past the window like smeared paint. The world outside felt distant and unreal, like a stage set, and he hated how much calmer that made him feel.
“Can you go over the plan with me one more time?” Enzo asked, sliding his hand down to take Seven’s where it rested on his thigh. The contact was small and steadying, but also stoked a heat low in his belly.
Seven nodded. “Sure. Brioni arranged to meet Grant and his bosses—who apparently go by Fritz and Caesar—at an abandoned port owned by Thomas. There’s nothing around for miles, so nobody will hear them screaming.
I’m sure they think she’s the stupidest girl alive and they’ve hit payday with her wanting to meet in the middle of nowhere.
There’s no doubt they’ll try to shut her up. ”
“And she’s okay with that?” Enzo’s voice tightened.
Seven glanced at him. “As opposed to prison? She chose the risk. She knew what she was doing when she tangled with traffickers and tried to frame my mom.”
“Who’s meeting us there?” Enzo asked.
“The core four,” Seven answered.
Enzo frowned. “The what now?”
“The twins, Felix, and Zane,” Seven said. “We call them the core four behind their backs.”
“Why?”
Seven smirked, folding his fingers into a complicated configuration. “Because all the Mulvaneys are close, but those four are…extra close.”
They’d all suspected that the relationship between the four went past Zaney and Lixie making out when they were drunk, but now that they’d all but confirmed it to the world, it still felt a bit surreal.
Seven didn’t have a problem with how they chose to live their lives.
What did he care? They were all consenting adults who were clearly crazy in love, but his best friend having not one, not two, but three significant others was a bit… wild.
“How close, exactly?” Enzo asked, a brittle laugh hiding something like curiosity and dread. “Like…Game of Thrones close?”
“Not quite Game of Thrones,” Seven hedged. “More like…CelebrityWife Swap?”
“Seriously?” Enzo said. “So, Asa and Felix and Zane and Avi?”
“With an emphasis on Felix and Zane in the middle,” Seven said. He watched the way Enzo’s jaw tightened at the names. The dynamics of the Mulvaney web were a map of danger—who wanted what and who would kill to keep it.
“You’re saying that Zane and Felix also…”
Seven couldn’t get enough of Enzo’s scandalized expression. “I’m saying their venn diagram is a circle.”
Enzo went quiet, eyes glued to the road, the passing headlights stroking his jaw in white and gold. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, the tendons in his hand standing out like carved lines of tension.
“Are you still thinking about them?” Seven asked, irritation prickling at the thought.
“Huh?” Enzo blinked, glancing at him, genuinely confused, which helped, but only a little.
“No. Well, yeah, but not how you think. I was trying to imagine ever being comfortable enough to share you with someone else, and I was just sort of hurting my own feelings. I hope polyamory isn’t on your bucket list, ‘cause I’m pretty sure I’d murder anyone who looked at you too long. You’re all mine.”
Seven’s cheeks heated, his pulse skipping in a way that made his chest feel too small. The quiet conviction in Enzo’s voice sank under his skin and stayed there, warm and possessive.
“I’d pluck out someone’s eyes for looking at you too long,” Seven said primly, even as his heart raced. “Just so we’re clear. I don’t share either.”
“Perfect.” Enzo sounded relieved enough that it loosened something tight inside Seven.
“So, the…core four are meeting us there?”
“They should be there already,” Seven said. “They went early to scope out the location, get the supplies in place, and make sure Brioni is as safe as she can be.”
Enzo nodded, his thumb brushing over Seven’s knuckles. It was such a small gesture, but it carried weight—an anchor Seven had grown used to having—like Enzo was wordlessly promising that no matter what came next, they’d face it together.
But the truth was, Seven didn’t want to be there.
This used to be his favorite part of any mission.
Revenge. Getting revenge for his own mother should have set his blood on fire.
Instead, it just left him feeling hollowed out.
Exhausted. He wanted these men dealt with already so he could go home, curl up on the couch with Enzo, watch bad TV, and eat good pasta.
The faint smell of gasoline still clung to his hoodie from filling up cans at the middle-of-nowhere gas station in Calliope’s small town.
They’d taken advantage of the lack of cameras.
The faint tang of iron from the gun oil in his bag made his stomach twist. Everything smelled violent tonight.
Even the sea air through the cracked window felt metallic and sharp on his tongue.
A sliver of unease burrowed under his skin, leaving him feeling… off.
Something cinched tight around his heart at the thought of spending forever with Enzo, living together, working together.
It should have sounded stifling, but instead, it felt inevitable—something already written.
He wanted it now. Wanted him now. Wanted to be married, domestic, safe.
The thought startled him. When had marriage stopped sounding like a noose around his neck and started sounding like home?
Once, the word forever had felt like a trap. But with Enzo, it felt like gravity. Even when Seven had hated him, he’d loved him.
He didn’t realize he’d been staring until Enzo glanced over and did a double take. “What?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Seven said, cheeks burning.
Enzo smirked, gripping his hand tighter. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“I really love you,” he blurted.
The car jerked slightly, tires biting against asphalt. The horns of passing cars blared around them as Enzo corrected the vehicle.
“You good?” Seven asked, barely hiding his grin.
Enzo glowered. “You did that on purpose.”
Seven’s mouth curved. “Maaaybe.”
Enzo waited until Seven was lost in his own thoughts before softly saying, “I love you, too, brat.”
Seven turned toward the window to hide the stupid grin spreading across his face, but Enzo brought their hands up, kissing his knuckles.
The warmth of his lips lingered against the cool night air seeping through the window. For the first time all evening, Seven felt something that wasn’t dread.
He really had struck gold with Enzo. A man who supported his career goals, knew exactly how many people he’d killed, adored his mother, fit in seamlessly with the chaos of his life, and could keep up with him in bed. He was a fucking unicorn.
Seven stayed quiet for the rest of the drive, the music a low hum in the background. His phone buzzed—a message from Felix confirming that Brioni was wired and Kevlared under her hoodie. Seven sent back a quick thumbs-up emoji, the simple motion grounding him.
When they reached the port, he guided Enzo to park a block away behind an abandoned fish market. The instant he opened the door, the air slapped him, the salt and rust thick enough to taste. It burned his nose, sharp and chemical, mixing with the faint, oily tang of seawater gone stagnant.
Most of the streetlights had died years ago, but a few still clung to life—valiant, flickering things that cast uneven pools of yellow light over the cracked concrete.
The glow caught on the skeletons of old ships, their hulls eaten by corrosion, and each gust of wind made the metal groan like something alive and dying at the same time.
They used the light from Enzo’s trunk to gear up.
The soft click of fasteners and Velcro broke the silence as they pulled on their vests.
Seven racked the slide on his Glock 45, checked the magazine, the chamber, and the safety before holstering it at his side.
He handed Enzo a weapon of his own after double-checking it out of instinct.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asked.