Fifteen
If I could click my fingers and return to Oz, I would, because this shit is for the birds.
A s we make our way toward the elevators, no one speaks.
If they do, I might lose what’s left of my patience—and they know it.
These kids will be the death of me, faster than the mafia ever could.
I’ve had that thought more often lately.
As they’ve grown into themselves, they’ve started acting like they don’t need to think shit through anymore.
Case in point—my eldest son shooting his stepmother.
I suck in a breath. Because that’s exactly who she is. Shit.
I raised my children to be better than this.
Calculated. Controlled. They still have a lot to learn.
And I have a lot more teaching to do. You watch.
You listen. You learn. You strike when necessary—but never out of emotion.
Emotion is dangerous. Sentimentality will kill you faster than any bullet ever could.
It clouds judgment. Makes you trust the wrong people, ignore the wrong things, and act before you should.
Everything you do—every reaction—has to be weighed. Because the fallout? It doesn’t just hit you. It hits everyone you love.
I get it. Today was a lot. Meeting their father, nearly losing him the same night... It's overwhelming. I understand it as a mother . But as the Consigliere of the Barone family, I don’t have the luxury of unraveling. Neither do they.
I exhale slowly.
Am I mad that my son shot that woman? Not particularly. She got froggy and leaped right into that bullet. How many damn times does someone have to be warned to watch their mouth before they actually do it? Those consequences are on her, even if I preferred that my son handled things differently.
What pisses me off is that we didn’t get to the root of the problem. No answers. Valentina never told the whole truth. I’m sure this shitstorm has something to do with her—maybe not all, but enough. But I also know this goes beyond the Salvatores. My gut has never lied to me, and it’s screaming.
And we still haven’t touched on the subject of moles inside the club. Shit. Fuck. Damn it.
I pull out my phone and send a quick text. It’s time to move.
I know that puttana is tied into all this.
What we uncovered tonight was damning. And I’ve always gotten a weird vibe off her.
Even back then. Despite the shit, she was spewing about her getting the guy, and all that other cliché shit.
This isn’t jealousy. I couldn’t care less that she ended up with Talon.
It’s instinct. And instincts like mine? I don’t ignore them.
Too many moving parts, and too many of them are aiming straight for my family.
No matter my feelings about Talon, I’ll do what needs to be done.
If it turns out who I think is involved, dragged my children into a war they didn't sign up for, I’ll end them without a second thought.
I’ll be damned if I let old family beef threaten the lives I gave birth to.
If I have to go through Talon and his entire club to end this, I will.
We reach the parking structure. My men are already waiting—and so is Olivia, standing beside the open car door. Hands wringing, face tight with worry. One of her hard-headed siblings must’ve filled her in. Which means she has questions. About the plan. About what comes next. But mostly, about him.
She wants to know if her father is okay.
Liv’s never said it, not aloud—but I saw it in her eyes all her life.
Watching other girls with their fathers.
Skipping daddy-daughter dances. Avoiding Father’s Day at school.
She’s my most empathetic child, the softest heart in the hardest world.
Of all of them, she longed for her father most. And that guilt?
That’s the one thing that’s kept me up more nights than I can count.
Do I regret keeping them from him? No. Because I tried. Over and over again.
I meet Liv’s eyes and give her a slight nod.
It’s enough to settle her nerves—for now.
But when she looks at her siblings, her eyes narrow.
Whatever half-truths they told her didn’t cut it.
Their sheepish expressions say everything.
My girl might be the sunniest one, but she’s the one who checks all their attitudes.
They call her my mini-me, and they’re not wrong.
Then I hear it—the engine.
My attention snaps to the corner of the structure as a sleek matte black Range Rover rolls in like it owns the place. I don’t need to see who’s behind the wheel. I already know.
When Sam told me to come back, I made sure someone close was in place—someone who could be my ears, eyes, and backup. I was annoyed she didn’t stop this chaos from erupting, but nobody predicted Talon would bolt like that—not even her.
Bellamy.
She’s cut from the same cloth as me. Born into this life. Shaped by it. And when I was drowning, she was the one who pulled me out. She’s saved my ass more times than I can count—and I’ve returned the favor.
Her car idles for a beat. Then she revs the engine. Once. Twice. Three times.
I roll my eyes, always dramatic.
Then the tires spin out, smoke curling around the air, and the boys snicker under their breath. A few of my men are fighting back, smirks. Bellamy lives for an entrance.
And of course— of course —she’s blasting Take Me to Church by Hozier like this is her personal music video.
I shake my head and chuckle. The kids groan.
They know what’s coming. When Bellamy shows up, things never stay quiet for long.
I look around at my kids and crew and feel the storm building all around us.
This is just the beginning.
I feel someone tug my arm.
“Mamma?”
Olivia smiles, her gaze sweeping over everyone before she approaches me.
She wraps her arms around me in a hug I gladly return.
My little sunshine. Since birth, she’s had a way of calming people, friend or foe.
It’s not something she tries to do––it’s just who she is.
That soft aura, the quiet strength… It’s disarming.
Don’t get me wrong—Liv may be the gentlest of my children, but she’s no less dangerous.
Like Malikai, she’ll always look for a diplomatic way out before bringing down the hammer.
I swear, their birth order cemented their personalities. Seb and Fi? Demon spawn. Kai and Liv? My angels. Deadly angels, but still. The first of each pair came out swinging. The second tried to balance the chaos. My kids are my heart, my soul—and the reason I grind my teeth at night.
“Ciao, mio sole.” Hello, my sun.
“ Ciao, Mamma.” Her smile gives me a moment of peace. I exhale for what feels like the first time in hours.
“I assume your siblings told you the essentials. We’re not returning to the compound tonight.
We’ll head to the hotel. I need to speak with your father before I make any permanent decisions—or eliminate anyone in his club.
” That’s all I have the energy to say right now.
My nerves are frayed, and I need a damn drink.
Then I hear it—thunder. Engines. I turn to see a mass of bikers riding in. Instantly, my men close ranks around me, the kids, and Bellamy. She still hasn’t said a word, just watching like a predator sizing up the room. Calm. Collected. Dangerous.
Bellamy and I—we’re the same kind of beast. We know this world. She’s no stranger to MCs, especially not this one. Her mother’s story mirrors my own so closely, it’s unnerving. The only difference is—I walked away. Her mother, Savvy, was sent away brokenhearted.
I release a breath and look around at my team, my family, giving them looks that tell them to stand down. I don’t want my team reacting unless there’s a reason. I raise a hand to wave them off. Outwardly, we’re calm. Inwardly? Everyone’s locked, loaded, and ready.
As the riders roll past, I catch their eyes.
A few stare at us like we’re the damn plague.
Disgust. Resentment. Suspicion. Someone’s been running their mouth.
Probably that viper bitch, Heather. The way they're eyeing me? Yeah, they’ve already chosen a villain.
And I’m okay with that. They better not expect me to play nice when the truth comes out.
Once the last bike passes, I slowly turn to my two demon children. They’re already looking like they know what’s coming.
“Shit.”
“Fuck.”
Exactly.
“You act like you weren’t raised with any damn home training, so I’ll treat you like you weren’t raised with any damn home training,” I say flatly.
My father may have been a Black Italian Don, but my mother? A Black woman from the inner city. And when my kids piss me off, they get both sides of me—Barone ruthlessness and Southside fire.
“You’re going to the other hotel with Aunty Bellamy, Dante, and Maxim. And before either of you opens your rabid-ass mouths, know this—your aunt has an assignment for you both.”
“Mamma?”
“Nope. You lost the right to chill when you acted like you ain’t have no fucking sense.” I cut them off before they even try to protest.
I turn to Sarafina. “You. With your dramatic ass, climbing through hospital vents like we ain’t got security clearance. Starting a damn catfight in a hospital.”
Fi rolls her eyes. I fix her with a look that makes her regret that decision instantly.
Her eyes widen, then she drops her gaze.
Smart girl. I don’t like being hard on them, but they know who I am.
They know what I expect. Sure, Fi thought, she was being helpful.
But Valentina wasn’t going to hurt me. That woman’s just a mother scared for her son.
I get it. But as for that backwoods Barbie and her little daughter?
They better hope they never end up in a dark alley with one of mine.
That mess tonight? That was just the prelude.
I turn my attention to Seb. His jaw is clenched so tight it looks like it might crack. He’s pissed—and I do not care.