Chapter Thirty Two, Honey, I’m Home
Chapter Thirty Two, Honey, I’m Home
The night was quiet, except for the soft rustle of the trees swaying in the breeze and the occasional chirp of crickets. I wondered if the trees were watching me again. Only instead of seeing me doing wicked things, they were seeing me fall apart.
Just a little. A socially acceptable amount.
Okay, no. There were tears. Snot. Choking. Shaking limbs and gasping breaths. Hair plastered to my face from the sheer heat my breakdown emanated from me.
I’d wandered a little way from the cabin. Only to the seats on the front drive, by the BBQ we’d used a handful of times on the extra hot days. But it seemed like a good place to sit and cry where nobody could hear me.
Gio was inside, sleeping off the painkillers Silver had insisted on giving him.
She’d stitched him up herself, her hands steady as she insisted she’d done it so many times before that things would be fine.
I could still picture him sprawled out on the couch, his breathing shallow but even, his face pale.
I was worried he was in pain, but at least he was safe. He was home with me again.
I should have felt relief, joy even, but instead, I felt…
everything. Pride that we’d survived. That we’d won.
That we’d killed Giorgio and finally avenged Missy.
But it wasn’t just that. There was sadness, and stress, and this heavy emptiness that I couldn’t seem to shake no matter how hard I tried.
Malivore padded over silently, and I reached out and ran my fingers through her thick coat, my hand moving mechanically as my thoughts churned.
It was over. Everything I’d planned for, everything we’d fought for, was done. Giorgio was dead. The man who had ruined so many lives was gone, and I’d been the one to help take him out. I should’ve felt proud. And I did, a little.
I should have thought about his dying face, not all the ways his death was going to fuck us over and make things worse.
I should have thought about anything other than how much I missed Missy.
The thoughts hit me like a punch to the gut, and I let out a shaky breath, my fingers tightening in Malivore’s fur.
Missy. Her voice, her laugh, the way she always knew how to make me smile even when the world was falling apart. I’d killed Giorgio for her. I’d done it for her memory, for justice, for revenge.
But she was still gone.
My vision blurred, and I pressed my hands to my face as the tears came harder.
I sobbed into my arms, my whole body shaking with the force of it.
Malivore nudged my leg with her nose, letting out a soft whine, but it only made me cry more.
The ache in my chest felt endless, raw and gnawing, like a piece of me had been ripped away and no amount of bloodshed or vengeance could ever fill it.
I didn’t hear Rowan approach.
His hand on my arm startled me, but his voice was soft, familiar. “Lucky,” he said gently, “what’s wrong?”
I looked up, blinking through the tears. I had no idea what he saw on my face. But without a word, he pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me as if he could hold me together.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I just buried my face in his shoulder and let the tears come, my breath hitching as I tried to find the words.
Finally, I managed, “I thought… I thought killing Giorgio would make me feel better. That it would fix the piece of my heart that was broken.” My voice cracked, and I shook my head. “But—”
Rowan pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands still resting on my arms. His dark eyes were steady, his expression understanding in a way that cut through my grief like a knife.
“But it didn’t work,” he whispered. “You’re still just as broken.
Only now your soul is stained, too. I get it, Lucky. I know how you feel.”
The words hung between us, and for a moment, I hated him for saying them. For knowing that he had left me behind for his vengeance, but in the end it hadn’t done shit…
But he wasn’t wrong.
I met his gaze, and for the first time, I realized he knew exactly how I felt, and maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
He’d been here before—this place of hollow victory, where revenge left nothing but ashes behind.
Maybe instead of thinking about myself when I thought of what he did, I ought to have thought about him.
I might have been left behind, but he’d been in prison. I’d lost him, but I had Missy. I had Ruby and Lola. I had old man Roger, and Adonis and all the other random people who asked about my day and cared about to check in on me.
I had Gio and Atlas.
Rowan had nobody. Nothing.
He hadn’t been able to stare at the stars in the sky and wonder what he would do tomorrow. He couldn’t do anything he wanted at all. And why? Because he wanted to get revenge for me. For our parents. For the things he lost, too.
“I just want her back,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I want her with me. Revenge didn’t bring her back, and that’s all I wanted. I just… I just want her back. And I’m sorry I was mad at you. I’m sorry I made you feel bad for doing what you did.”
The tears started again, harder this time, and Rowan pulled me close, holding me like I was something fragile, something worth protecting. “I know,” he murmured, his voice steady and quiet. “I know, Lucky.”
We sat like that for a while, the dark woods stretching around us, the stars overhead shining too brightly for how I felt. He didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t need him to. He just held me, his presence solid and unshakable, as I cried into the night.
Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving me feeling hollow and strange. The grief was still there, sharp and gnawing, but Rowan’s arms around me dulled its edge, just enough for me to breathe again.
Missy was gone. Nothing could change that. But I wasn’t alone, and I had my brother back. That had to count for something.
Even hours later, when Rowan and Silver had gone to a nearby motel to crash, and I was back inside pretending to be sane again, I still felt that ache.
That clawing desperation in my throat, begging me to sit and wallow.
But I ignored that bitch. I let those thoughts join the rest in the dark pit at the bottom of my brain where useless things went.
Instead, I concentrated on what I did have. Like the man beside me, and the other one who said he would be home soon.
Gio was slumped back against the couch cushions, his shirt undone and hanging loosely around his shoulders.
The newly stitched gash on his side was stark against his olive skin, the angry red of the wound bright against the dark smattering of hair across his chest. He looked worn; the exhaustion seeping into every tense line of his body.
He was still hot though, and I made sure to let him know that, so he had something to feel better about.
“You okay?” I asked softly, brushing my fingers against the back of his hand where it rested on his thigh. “Do you need anything? More drugs? A blowjob? A slap on the face for getting yourself shot?”
His dark eyes flicked to mine, and for a brief moment, something unguarded passed across his face.
Vulnerability, maybe. A crack in his usual bravado.
But then he nodded, his jaw tightening. “I’m fine, amore mio.
You can suck my dick if you want, but I think I may fall asleep.
Nothing to do with you; these drugs are just making me drained. ”
“Liar, you are not fine.” I murmured, leaning closer until our shoulders touched, the heat of his body warming my skin even through the chill that seemed to cling to the air.
Gio sighed, tilting his head back to rest against the cushions. “I’ve had worse.”
“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” I countered, letting my head rest on his shoulder. His steady breathing comforted me. “Let me be nice to you. You know I’ll be mean again in the morning, so you need to enjoy this offer.”
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Gio said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.
I didn’t need to ask who he meant, but I did anyway. “Your dad?”
He nodded, his jaw clenching as he stared into the fire. The muscle in his cheek twitched, his fingers curling into a fist against his thigh.
“It should’ve been me who did it,” he muttered, the words heavy with regret. “All of it. Years ago. All I’ve done is put you at risk more than I have by loving you.”
I reached over, wrapping my hand around his, squeezing gently. “Gio, you don’t have to carry that. He’s gone. That’s what matters.”
His laugh was bitter, a sound that felt like it didn’t belong in this quiet space.
“But his brothers aren’t,” he said, his voice low and full of warning.
“They’ll come. And they won’t just come for me.
They’ll come for all of us.” He sighed. “If they ever find out you shot him, they will want to do unspeakable things. And now all I can think about is who knows? Does anyone outside of Atlas and me know you pulled the trigger first? Was there a camera or something we missed?”
The idea sent a cold shiver down my spine, but I refused to let it show. Instead, I tightened my grip on his hand. “Then we’ll deal with it,” I said firmly.
His lips twitched, a faint attempt at a smile. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re a hitwoman, like you said. I’m just a fool.”
“I think I’m a terrible hitwoman,” I admitted, my voice softening. “I don’t think I enjoy murdering. But I will do it if I have to. The same way you’ll do anything for me, as would Atlas. So regardless of what happens, we’re in this together.”
He turned to me, his dark eyes searching mine. I wasn’t sure what for. Reassurance, maybe. Or strength. Whatever it was, I hoped he found it, because I meant every word.
“Together?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost unsure.
“Always,” I replied, leaning in. “You’re stuck with me forever and ever, even if you don’t want me.”
“I think I am happy with that.” He grinned as he kissed me.
The kiss was gentle, a promise in the way our lips moved against each other. I stayed gentle when I moved our clothes out of the way. Then again when I rode his dick, soft and careful, more for connection than pleasure.
So I could make sure he was okay. And so he knew that I was too.
When we pulled apart, both spent and panting, I let my forehead rest against his, breathing in the shared warmth between us.
The moment was broken by the sound of the front door swinging open.
“Honey, I’m home,” Atlas called, his voice cutting through the stillness with mock cheerfulness. “Oh, what a pretty welcome home gift. You’re both messy and sweaty. How delicious! I’ll enjoy watching that video later.”
I looked up to see him strolling in, his blonde hair slightly damp. His sharp blue eyes glowing with a glint of softness that belied his usual self-assured demeanor.
“Miss me?” he asked, sauntering over to the couch with his signature smirk. He grabbed my breasts, giving them a squeeze. “I missed these, too. I’ll have to cuddle them later.”
I didn’t bother answering, letting him kiss me first. Then he turned to Gio, pressing a softer kiss to his mouth too.
“Always,” Gio replied dryly. “Who else is going to feed me now that I am incapacitated?”
“Me.” I said. “I’ll cook.”
Both men had matching faces of horror as they shook their heads.
As much as I would have enjoyed winding them up and claiming they insulted me, I was too tired to do it.
I would leave them to play trad-wife, and I would be the man of the house.
Doing nothing but sit around drinking beers, slapping their asses when they walked past me, and asking when dinner was done.
Atlas plopped down beside us, wrapping an arm around each of our shoulders and pulling us closer.
“Things didn’t go according to plan, but we still have to stay on track.
Your uncles are coming, Gio, which means the threat has gone from one to five,” he yawned.
“But all the dirt I had on Giorgio is still useful. And even if it’s not, the Red Diamonds will back us.
There’s just one slight issue we need to solve. ”
“What?” I asked.
“Gio is dead.” He said. “That’s what Danika was hired to do. What we need to pretend actually happened.” He looked at Gio. “You need to speak to your family and get things sorted. The next few months are going to be harder, and you’re not going to have much chance to help.”
“I’m not going to lead my branch of the family, am I?” Gio said slowly. “I have to leave them to sort out everything on their own.”
“Not on their own. You just can’t openly help. Until your uncles are dealt with, you need to be dead. Otherwise you’re in danger, so is Heaven.”
Gio glanced at me, then at Atlas, and for the first time in what felt like days, he let out a quiet laugh. “At least I’m a handsome corpse.”
“The most handsome.” I agreed as the three of us sat there, the weight of the world pressing just a little less heavily against us as we planned out our next steps.
As we tried to work out how to win a war that none of us wanted.