Fourteen
I’d be proud if I wasn’t so damn pissed.
I don’t want to be here a second longer than I have to.
Already, I feel different. And I fucking hate it.
No matter how much of a boss I am or how many years have passed, it’s jarring—confusing—to feel anything, especially for him.
I’m not supposed to care about Talon. I’m not supposed to worry if he lives or dies.
That part of me was supposed to be dead and buried. I worked damn hard to kill it.
There’s no space in my life for anyone outside my circle. My family. That hasn’t changed—and it won’t. Not because of some dumb ache in my chest. Not because Talon’s laid out in a hospital bed fighting for his life.
The one thing keeping my head on straight? The snide comments. The dirty looks. The judgment. They remind me this isn’t my life. Never was. Never will be.
Being back in the thick of this mess only sharpens the reality…
but not enough. Nothing is ever that clean.
Sam sent me here. Said it was business. Said it was my duty—as a sister, and his Consigliere.
I know he meant well. He knows I’m loyal and efficient.
That I get shit done, but even he couldn’t have predicted this.
I. DO. NOT. WANT. TO. BE. HERE.
After Axel went full green monster and tried to cave my head in, Armand and the boys insisted I come to the hospital and get checked out. I didn’t argue. Mistake. My family took that as weakness. As permission to hover.
Merda.
Apparently, I’m a delicate little flower now. They forget who the fuck I am. And I’m trying— really trying—not to let Wind-Up Barbie, Whiny Wendy, Dick Dickerson, and the Clueless Crew make me snap. But my patience has limits.
We’re staying. No matter what the club says. We’ve got unfinished business. And secrets—ones buried deep for a decade. Armand and Malikai put their heads together. Between them, we know more than the MC does. Talon’s condition wasn’t some freak accident. Someone tried to kill him.
In broad daylight.
And based on the way Axel and his cum-catching shadow reacted? They’re dumb enough to think I had something to do with it. So, here we are. Another day. Another damn staring contest. These people make my melanin itch.
I don’t want to be here.
I do not want to fucking be here.
If I slip and accidentally slit someone’s throat, I will not lose sleep over it.
That’s where I’m at. They’re testing my limits, and I have none left to give.
The kids are almost grown. Talon and his club?
They’re not my responsibility anymore. Haven’t been for a long time.
Harsh? Maybe. But it’s the truth. Sam would say I should help because I’m here for a reason.
I’ve spent seventeen years helping. And what has that gotten me?
Nothing.
He’d say I have unresolved feelings. One being I needed to forgive Talon. Sam can kick rocks. Axel and his dollar store Barbie can kick them, too. All the seats. Take them.
I’m tired.
How can I forgive a man who used me like a game piece?
Who played me into loving him just to toss me aside?
How am I supposed to help people who’ve done nothing but run their mouths and disrespect me, then and now?
I doubt I can forgive. And even if I could, it won’t be today.
I take a breath. Then another. And when I speak, I make sure the venom in my voice is laced with steel.
“Unfortunately, I don’t give a damn about your patience or your opinion. I care about your club doing its fucking job. Our business relationship is what matters. Personal bullshit means nothing to me.”
I hold Axel’s eyes, let him feel it. “Let’s not forget, Axel… you work for me.”
His jaw ticks, but he says nothing.
Yeah. Thought so.
Before he can open his mouth, Armand barrels into the room. A few MC members glare from the doorway like they’re on some middle school gossip train.
Grown-ass men, hovering like bitches.
Armand ignores them, eyes locked on mine.
“It was Satan’s Keepers,” he says.
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know?” I ask.
He huffs. “One of the girls who runs with them. She heard their president bragging about taking Talon out. She called me.”
Merda .
I stare at him, ignoring the questioning eyes on us. Vera is the only one who could understand our conversation besides my children, and I don’t think she’s paying much attention. So I let the weight of that settle.
“Well… that changes things,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
So much for an easy job. So much for a quick visit. No. This won’t be simple. This won’t be clean. This shit’s about to get bloody.
I look from Axel to his father, then the rest of his family, avoiding her . Because every time I see that woman, I want to put a bullet between her eyes.
Call me bitter. I don’t give a fuck. At least I’m honest about it.
They all stare back, eyes filled with questions they’re too afraid or stupid to ask.
Papa explained what went down with the Keepers before I was even born.
He said they might be a problem. He was right.
Most clubs mind their business. Most can be paid or persuaded to keep their distance from LSMC.
But not all. Some clubs walk around like their shit doesn’t stink. Like, pushing boundaries is a sport.
Satan’s Keepers is one of those clubs.
I’ve kept tabs on them over the years. Not too deep—just enough. I know who they’re affiliated with. I know that connection makes them feel untouchable. Fools. Damn it. They could’ve been content with what I allowed them to have. But no—greedy bastards always want more.
The second I learned about their syndicate and trafficking ties, I knew it was too close for comfort.
“Salvatores,” I growl, the disgust laced in my voice.
“ Most likely, ” Armand says.
“Not most likely, Armand. It’s the Salvatores.”
I don’t look at him as I speak. My thoughts are already moving—calculating the next move. This changes everything. We can’t afford to keep pushing this off. Don Salvatore’s connection to Talon’s club is no longer something to deal with later. It’s come back to haunt them—and us.
When I came here, I hoped to keep this neat.
Handle the traitor. Tie up loose ends. Leave.
But now? Now we’re at war. Mafia families—we’re efficient.
And we don’t forget shit. I turn back to the Mastersons.
My eyes land on her . Valentina . The woman with too many secrets and sins tucked under her manicured nails.
The woman who let her family live in ignorance while the past stalked their every step.
“Listen, and listen well,” I growl. “Because this little incident? It’s just the beginning.”
“Mamma?” Malikai speaks up, his tone steady but worried.
“We’ll get to it, mio figlio ,” I murmur, offering him a brief glance. I know he wants to reveal what he’s found about the rat in the club. And we will. But not yet. Not while this other fire’s still burning.
He won’t like that I’m holding back, but I have to. We need precision, patience, and timing.
No mistakes. No oversights. No survivors we didn’t choose.
We dismantle the chain link by link, then realign it to fit our design.
I look at Valentina—Talon’s mother. She made an oath of omertà to my father.
The mafia protected her when her Don from New York turned against her family.
My father passed that promise of protection to Sam and me.
I’m not the only reason my family didn’t go to war over what Talon did…
But I am the only reason Talon’s still breathing.
I speak calmly, clearly. My voice was calm but left no room for misunderstanding.
“Valentina Tomasi, do you want to tell them—or shall I?” I ask.
She gasps. Her eyes fly open wide. They dart across the room, panicked, searching for a way out that doesn’t exist. Her family doesn’t speak Italian. They don’t know what I said. But she does. I say nothing else. I let the silence smother her.
She stumbles backward, collapsing into a chair, clutching her chest like she’s been shot. Her granddaughter rushes to her, eyes full of confusion. Everyone’s heads turn—ping-ponging between us.
Brick’s face tightens with rage as he wraps his arms around his wife. Axel and Nitro stare, annoyance painted on their faces—but still, they don’t get it.
“Grandma, what? What’s going on? GRANDPA?” The girl yells out. Brick is at Valentina’s side, whispering something low in her ear.
Whatever he’s saying—it’s not helping. She’s shaken.
Pale. Breathless. She should be. She should know I carry the same oath my father did.
So what the fuck is she reacting to? Guilt?
Realization? Maybe she finally sees the truth.
Her son is fighting for his life because of her .
She’s no stranger to causing the deaths of people she claims to love.
And no, I don’t feel sorry for saying it. It’s the truth.
It started with her.
And it will end with her.
She sobs against Brick, head shaking, lips trembling.
Maybe Brick knows more than he’s ever let on. Interesting.
“What the fuck is going on?” Axel spits out, rage brewing.
Valentina lifts her head from Brick’s chest. Her face—twisted with fury. Her eyes—blazing.
“ You did this.” She spits voice dripping with venom.
I stare her down, unmoved. She will not put this on me. I’ve already bled for this family. I will not carry their sins. I almost lost my mother because of this woman’s ghosts, because of her silence.
Her cowardice and her lies.
Not today, Satan’s mistress.
Not. Today.
“No, Valentina. I didn’t.”
My voice is calm, controlled, but every word’s dipped in steel.
“My family has protected you. My family has protected them . We aligned our business interests because it was mutually beneficial. But I didn’t do this. You did. Or have you forgotten those phone calls? Hmm?”