45. Connor
Chapter 45
Connor
Sofia left the estate with Ion as part of her protection agreement. He will make sure she’s safe in a part of the world Vito’s influence won’t reach. No one knows where she’s been sent to, except Ion, Dmitri, and Da.
Now the five of us are sprawled across my room like we have no care in the world. But the truth is, this is the first real moment of normalcy we’ve had in a long time. With everything happening—the coup, the Volkovs, the future of the Five Crowns hanging in the balance—it feels fucking good to just sit here and shoot the shit for a while.
Mihai is stretched out on the armchair near the window, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, smirking like he already knows how this night is going to go. Giovanni and Nikolai are sitting on the couch, their feet propped up on my coffee table, while Konstantin sits stiff-backed on the edge of my bed, still trying to figure out where he fits in all this.
We’ve been drinking, planning, laughing—going over everything we want to change when the new school year starts, and of course, Legacy Week is at the top of the fucking list.
“I’m just sayin’,” I say, gesturing vaguely with my glass of whiskey while stabbing the wooden armrest of the couch I’m sitting in. “If we’re gonna do Legacy Week properly, we need to up the ante on The Night Hunt.”
Nikolai groans, tipping his head back against the couch. “It’s already brutal.”
Giovanni smirks. “He’s right, though. Last year, half the fucking pledges nearly pissed themselves.”
“Which means we’re doing it right,” Mihai says, exhaling smoke. “But Connor’s got that psychotic little glint in his eye, so let’s hear it.”
I grin twirl my knife. “I want to add an element of real fuckin’ fear.”
Konstantin raises an eyebrow. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”
“Easy,” I say, leaning forward again. “No more safe zones. No more designated hidin’ spots. We hunt them until they drop.”
Giovanni lets out a low whistle, his dark eyes gleaming. “You’re sick.”
“Am I?” I smirk. “Or am I just makin’ it more interestin’?”
Mihai chuckles, shaking his head. “You’d have to come back next year to make that happen.”
I shrug, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “Then I guess I’m comin’ back.”
Nikolai lifts his glass. “To another year of terrorizing the next generation.”
We clink glasses, and for a moment, it’s just us, just the way it’s always been—until it’s not.
Because as much as I want to keep things light, as much as I want to pretend that I can just let everything play out like it always has, there’s something I need to fucking say.
I set my glass down heavily, the amber liquid sloshing up the sides. A restless tension coils through me, making my skin itch. I rake a hand roughly through my hair, exhaling a slow, heavy breath. My eyes flicker briefly toward Mihai, noticing him shift subtly in his chair. He already fucking knows what I’m about to say—I can feel the weight of his gaze, silently pushing me forward.
I hesitate, just for half a heartbeat, before forcing myself to meet the questioning stares of the others. “Actually, while we’re on the subject of changes...” I pause again, my heart hammering hard in my chest. Fucking hell, this shouldn’t be this hard. “I’ve got somethin’ to tell you lot.”
Giovanni arches a perfectly sculpted brow, amusement dancing in his dark eyes as he lounges back, effortlessly casual. “If this is about your weird fucking obsession with Night Hunt, we already know.”
Nikolai smirks around the rim of his glass, the edge of his mouth twitching upward. “Yeah,” he drawls, voice dripping with dry humor. “You being a sadistic bastard isn’t exactly news, Cunningham.”
Rolling my eyes, I fight the urge to hurl my whiskey at their smug faces. Instead, I shift restlessly, jaw clenching as I struggle to get the damn words out. “It’s not that,” I snap, sharper than I intend.
Konstantin, tilts his head slowly, silver rings gleaming as his fingers tap against his thigh. His gaze sharpens, thoughtful and piercing, like he’s trying to read my mind. I let out another rough breath, flipping my knife absently between my fingers, the familiar, cool weight grounding me.
“I’m gay,” I finally say, blunt and unflinching. My pulse pounds in my ears, and for a few excruciating seconds, nobody fucking says a thing.
It’s not a long silence—not even awkward, really—but it feels heavy, stretching just long enough to make my heart trip painfully in my chest.
Then Nikolai shrugs casually, leaning further into his chair. “Alright.”
Giovanni gives a lazy nod, looking thoroughly unsurprised. “Makes sense.”
Konstantin blinks once, slowly, his dark eyes steady as ever. “And?”
I frown, eyes narrowing slightly as confusion wars with relief. “That’s it?”
Mihai snorts softly, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette. His eyes glitter with quiet amusement, the bastard clearly enjoying this too much. “What’d you expect, a fucking parade?”
My shoulders loosen just a fraction as I exhale the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. Relief floods through me, even though I’m still mildly annoyed that this isn’t going how I expected. I should’ve fucking known better; these guys—they’re my brothers, even Konstantin’s quiet arse. Of course they wouldn’t care.
But then Giovanni’s words sink back in, and my brows snap together sharply. I lean forward, whiskey glass clutched tight in one hand, and stab a finger accusingly at him. “Wait. What the fuck do you mean, ‘makes sense’?”
Giovanni smirks wider, the corners of his mouth quirking up, his expression effortlessly cocky. He leans toward me, elbows resting on his knees, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Exactly what I said. It makes sense.”
Mihai exhales a long-suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Jesus Christ, Gio, don’t fucking start—”
Giovanni ignores him entirely, eyes locked on me, smug and entertained. “Come on, Connor. You’ve always had that...” He waves a lazy hand in my direction, grinning openly now, “...I don’t know, vibe.”
I scowl deeper, flicking the knife toward him again, irritation prickling up my spine. “What fuckin’ vibe?”
He shrugs carelessly, settling back against the couch cushions, annoyingly calm. “That whole ‘I could ruin you, and you’d thank me for it’ energy.”
Nikolai barks out a sharp laugh, eyes crinkling with genuine amusement. “Shit, he’s not wrong.”
Konstantin finally breaks his silence, that dry smirk of his making an appearance. “You do have a certain... aura , Cunningham.”
My mouth drops open slightly as I set my glass down again with a sharp clink. My gaze snaps toward Konstantin, irritation flaring. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Giovanni laughs softly, openly enjoying my confusion now. He gestures vaguely in my direction again. “That whole broody, controlling, ‘I could fuck you up in the best possible way’ thing you’ve got going on? Yeah, people notice.”
I gape at him, disbelief sliding swiftly into annoyance. “People?”
Nikolai smirks wider, leaning forward conspiratorially. “You mean you didn’t know?”
“Know what, you cunts?” I snap.
Mihai lets out another deep, dramatic sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose like we’re giving him a fucking headache. He levels me with an unamused stare, though his mouth twitches with barely-suppressed laughter. “They’re sayin’ you give off strong ‘Dom who likes ruining men’ energy.”
For a second, I can’t even respond. I just stare at him dumbly, mouth opening and closing uselessly as heat burns along my neck. When I finally manage words, they come out strangled and pissed off. “Dom who likes ruinin’ men—what the actual fuck—”
Nikolai nudges my shoulder roughly, grinning wolfishly. “It’s a compliment, really.”
“Fuck off,” I growl, feeling my face heat further.
Giovanni chuckles deeply, shaking his head. “You do, though. Look at how you walk, how you talk. All sharp edges and authority, like you expect people to obey you without question.”
Konstantin leans slightly forward, his eyes glinting with rare amusement. “And they do.”
I shake my head stubbornly, dragging a hand down my face, trying desperately to ignore Mihai’s obvious delight at my suffering. “This is complete bullshite.”
Mihai finally lets out a low, amused chuckle, lips twitching as he takes a lazy drag from his cigarette, looking entirely too satisfied. “Is it, though?”
I glare at him fiercely, jaw clenched. “I fuckin’ hate you.”
He snickers openly, unbothered as he blows smoke toward the ceiling. “No, you don’t.”
I huff out a frustrated breath, tipping my head back roughly against the couch cushion, closing my eyes with a groan. “This is exactly why I didn’t wanna tell you arseholes.”
The soft laughter that fills the room settles something inside my chest, even as embarrassment continues to prickle under my skin. It might’ve gone entirely differently than I’d planned, but fuck—I wouldn’t trade these bastards for anything.
Nikolai claps me on the back. “Come on, man. It’s not like we’re surprised. I mean, you’re what—twenty-five? And the only time we’ve ever seen you with women was when you were faking it at parties.”
Giovanni nods. “Yeah, even then, you always looked bored as hell.”
Mihai exhales smoke, shaking his head. “Not bored, exactly. More like... waiting for it to be over.”
Konstantin, who I swear is just here for the entertainment at this point, nods once. “I did always think you weren’t particularly interested in any of the women throwing themselves at you.”
I rub a hand down my face. “You lot are fuckin’ unbearable.”
Giovanni shrugs. “You’re just mad because we figured it out before you said anything.”
I scoff. “If you knew, why didn’t anyone say anythin’?”
Nikolai raises an eyebrow. “What, like we were supposed to go up to you one day and be like, ‘Hey, Connor, you seem like you might be into dick’ ?”
I grimace. “Jaysus fuckin’ Christ.”
Mihai chuckles. “That would’ve been a hell of a conversation.”
I shake my head, still reeling from this entire goddamn conversation. “I hate all of you.”
“Yeah, yeah. We love you too, Cunningham.” Nikolai smirks. “Honestly, the fact that you’re a kinky bastard is way more shocking than you being gay.”
Giovanni chuckles. “Yeah, we’ve known you were a freak in the sheets for years.”
Konstantin, still looking slightly confused, shakes his head. “I don’t see why it would change anything.”
It doesn’t. It shouldn’t. But still, hearing them say it—hearing the casual way they accept it—it makes something ease inside me.
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. “Fuckers.”
Mihai grins. “Took you long enough.”
My shoulders finally lose some of their tension as I slump back into the sofa, reaching again for my whiskey glass. The ice clinks softly against the sides, a tiny, familiar sound that steadies my nerves. My heartbeat still thuds sharply beneath my ribs, because there’s more I need to get out—more I’ve been keeping bottled inside me far too fucking long.
Exhaling slowly, I glance back up and force the words out. “Yeah, well. There’s more.”
Giovanni’s brow lifts with genuine curiosity, his dark eyes alight with amusement as he settles deeper into his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass lazily. “More than you being a gay sadist? This I gotta hear.”
I pause again, the hesitation briefer this time, but heavy, nonetheless. My jaw tightens slightly, and my chest feels too tight as I finally force out the one thing that’s been clawing mercilessly at my insides for months. “It’s about Malachi Dawson.”
Instantly, the atmosphere shifts, a palpable weight settling over the room. Mihai, already fully aware of my secret, remains unaffected, merely watching the others with quiet interest. But the rest? Their reactions are sharp and visceral; I watch closely as the casual amusement drains from their faces, replaced swiftly by hard, guarded attention.
Giovanni’s fingers tighten around his drink, setting it down sharply on the table beside him with a faint thud. “What about him?” he asks, his tone cautious, every trace of humor erased.
I drag in a deep breath, scrubbing a hand roughly over my jaw as I fight back the nerves twisting uncomfortably inside me. The next words feel heavy on my tongue, like a confession I’ve been choking down for far too long. “I’m in love with him.”
This time, the silence feels suffocating, thick with tension. No one moves at first, as if the words themselves have pinned each of them to their seats.
Nikolai recovers first, a low, shocked curse slipping past his lips as he tips his head back slightly, running a hand roughly through his hair. “Shit, I’m not even gonna ask how that happened.”
Konstantin studies me intently, unblinking, the steady scrutiny of his gaze sharp enough to flay me open, like he’s silently calculating if I’ve completely lost my fucking mind or if he simply underestimated how reckless I could be.
Giovanni leans forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees and his expression darkening into concern. “You’re serious?”
I meet his questioning stare evenly, jaw set tight, shoulders squared. There’s no hesitation now, just quiet certainty. “Aye.”
He lets out a heavy breath, dragging a hand roughly down his face in disbelief. “Fuck, Connor,” he mutters, clearly trying to wrap his head around my admission.
Nikolai shakes his head and sits back with a heavy sigh, his gaze wary but understanding. “The enemy’s son.”
Konstantin, who has barely moved or blinked, finally breaks his contemplative silence, voice quiet and serious, fingers clasped thoughtfully in front of him. “You know what this means.”
I hold his gaze, resolute and unwavering, even though my heart is still hammering painfully beneath my ribs. “I know exactly what it means.”
Giovanni rubs his temple, exhaling sharply like he’s trying to ease a sudden headache. He seems torn between concern and acceptance, his expression drawn into a slight frown. “So what now?”
The tension bleeds from my shoulders as certainty replaces uncertainty. My answer comes without pause, clear and firm. “I keep him.”
Simple. Direct. Final. No room for debate.
Across from me, Mihai’s lips twitch into an approving smirk, shaking his head slightly as he stubs out his cigarette into the ashtray. “Guess we should’ve known. Connor Cunningham doesn’t do anything halfway.”
A slow grin stretches across Nikolai’s face, reluctant respect in his eyes as he lifts his whiskey glass in salute, nodding at me in amused resignation. “To you being a reckless bastard.”
Giovanni’s expression finally breaks into a grudging smile as he clinks his own glass against Nikolai’s, shaking his head slightly. “And to Malachi. Poor fucker doesn’t know what he’s in for.”
Even Konstantin eventually allows a quiet smile to soften his otherwise serious expression. He meets my eyes steadily, something like genuine admiration hidden beneath his calm mask. “To not giving a fuck about what’s expected of us.”
I grin, lifting my own glass. “Now that’s a fuckin’ toast.”