Chapter 28 Kingston
KINGSTON
The Blood Vault files glare at me from Bronx’s computer screen. Names, dates, kill orders—all the dirty secrets the Red Tribunal thought they'd buried under lock and key.
Luckily, Bronx’s hacker picked the lock and freed the bloodstained legacy they’ve created.
It’s a good thing, all the leverage I need to take them down and save us all.
But I can barely focus on the intel that should and could change everything.
My phone buzzes against the table, but I ignore it. Mind spinning and heart clenching, I try hard to focus on what’s staring me in the face.
"This is it," Bronx says, tapping a part of the screen with his finger. "Proof that they ordered the hit on you. And look at this." He clicks the mouse and brings up another file. "They've been planning a complete takeover of our family and the O’Callaghans. Your father-in-law was just a pawn."
Reign leans back in his chair, arms crossed. When things blew up with Livvie, I knew I needed to bring my other brother into the mission, especially since my time could be limited.
Who the fuck knows if there’s another hit out on me? I’m sure the Tribunal already knows Livvie and I are done, and they’ll act fast to accomplish their goals which likely means they’ll kill her, too.
"So what's the play?” he says. “We hit them first, yeah?"
I should be strategizing. Should be planning their destruction down to the last detail. Instead, my mind keeps circling back to the look on Livvie's face when I walked out on her.
My phone vibrates again, skittering across the desk.
"You gonna answer that?" Bronx asks, lighting another cigarette.
He takes a deep drag and blows it out, raking a hand through his messy hair.
"It's not important."
I don’t bother looking at the screen to see who’s calling.
But something in my gut says something is off. And that something has been clawing at me since I left her standing in that conservatory like a broken doll.
The phone stops buzzing, then immediately starts again.
"Christ," I mutter, grabbing the phone.
But it's not a call. It's a voicemail notification.
From Livvie’s number.
My finger hovers over the Play button while Bronx and Reign continue talking strategy, their voices fading into white noise. I almost delete it without listening.
Almost.
But something stops me.
I hit play and lift the phone to my ear.
"Hey… it's your wife."
Her voice is soft, broken. Nothing like the defiant woman who used to challenge me at every turn. The sound of it lances my heart like tiny razor blades, tiny slices that make me wince with every syllable she speaks.
"I just wanted to tell you the truth. All of it. I never wanted to lie to you. I swear to God, Kingston."
I stand up from the table, walking to the window while her words pour through the speaker, like a soothing balm on my wounded soul.
Bronx and Reign's conversation continues behind me, but I can't hear anything except her voice.
"Truth is, you scare the hell out of me. Not because of what you are or the power you carry. You scare me because when I look at you, I don't see a monster anymore. I see a man who never hurt me… a husband who tried."
My free hand presses against the glass, the city lights blurring. My head drops, eyes absently watching cars zoom down the street.
They blur together, colors fading to gray as my heart sinks deeper in my chest at the loss.
"What I said to my ma… That wasn't for me. That was for her to repeat to my da. That was strategy. Me trying to figure it out."
Strategy. She was trying to protect me, not plan my murder. And I was too fucking angry to see it.
"I could never hurt you, Kingston. And I sure as hell won't let anyone else."
The words hit me like a freight train going at full speed. My lungs tighten and I scrape a hand down the front of my face.
She wasn't planning to kill me. She was trying to find a way out. And instead of helping her, I threw her away like she meant nothing.
I pushed away the best thing that ever happened to me.
"I'm in love with you, Kingston Viacava. I guess that doesn't matter to you anymore."
The voicemail cuts off abruptly, not with a goodbye but like something interrupted her. Like she was cut off mid-sentence.
My blood turns to ice.
"Bronx." My voice cuts through their conversation like the sharpest knife. "I need you to trace a call."
He looks up, cigarette dangling from his lips. "What kind of call?"
"My wife's location. Now."
"K, what's going on?" Reign asks, but I'm already moving toward Bronx's computers.
"Something's wrong. That voicemail—it was from Livvie. But she got cut off. She didn't hang up."
Bronx is already typing, fingers flying over the keyboard. Thank fuck he picked up some tech tricks from his hacker buddy.
"When was the call?"
I check the timestamp. "Twenty minutes ago."
"Got it." His screen fills with data. "Call originated from…" He pauses, frowning. "Downtown. In the Financial District.”
“That’s all you have?”
Bronx turns away from the computer screen with a shrug. “The only other thing I can tell you is that the phone is still downtown. If she got cut off…”
The room goes silent except for the hum of electronics and my own thundering heartbeat.
"If she got cut off, it’s because someone came for her and left the phone, thinking her location could be traced.” I pace the room, fisting the sides of my head. It could have been anyone. The Red Tribunal, her father, fucking Roman. And I don’t trust any of them.
“Reign," I bark. "Get the car. Now."
"Where are we going?"
"To find my wife." I point to Bronx. “You stay here. Use every resource we have. Traffic cameras, cell towers, facial recognition in that area. I don't give a shit what it costs. Fucking find her."
"Kingston, wait." Reign grabs my arm. "You need to think this through. If it's representatives of the Tribunal—"
"If it's the Tribunal, then they just made the last and worst mistake of their fucking lives."
I shake off his hand and storm toward the elevator. Behind me, I hear Bronx's fingers hammering away at the keys, already working to track her down.
The twenty-minute ride back to my penthouse stretches into what feels like hours. Possibilities and scenarios stab at my brain, each one worse than the last.
The Tribunal found out about her conflicted loyalties. Roman took her. Her father decided she was more valuable as a martyr than a spy.
By the time I reach my floor, I'm ready to tear the city apart brick by brick to find her.
I step out of the elevator and into the foyer. The place feels different without her in it. Empty in a way that has nothing to do with furniture or space.
I head straight for our bedroom, looking for signs of what happened, what she took, what she left behind.
Her side of the closet is mostly empty, but not completely. Looks like she packed in a hurry, taking only essentials.
The jewelry box on her dresser is open, things scattered on the surface like she was looking for something specific.
I sink onto the bed, covering my face with my hands.
“Fuck, Livvie, where are you?” I mutter.
With a deep sigh, my shoulders slump and I fall back onto her pillow. Something crunches against the back of my head. I reach behind me and my fingers find a wrinkled piece of paper.
My hands shake as I bring it in front of my face.
Kingston,
I know you probably think I threw your necklace away or left it behind to spite you.
I should have never taken it off. And I want you to know that it meant everything to me.
Not because of what it was worth, but because you chose it for me.
You saw the music notes and thought I'd like them. That's the man I fell in love with.
I'll treasure it always.
I'm sorry for everything.
Your wife,
Livvie
The paper crumples in my fist. She didn't abandon the necklace. She fucking cherished it.
And that tracker might be the only thing that can save her life.
I grab my phone and access the tracker app. My heart swells in my chest when I see the red blinker flash on my screen.
My phone rings. Bronx.
"I found her," I say.
"Good because that fucker Roman has her. I hacked into the street cameras where the phone was left and saw him throw her into a truck. I got a partial on their direction, but then I lost her. I’m running the plate number now to see if I can pick it up on another feed.”
“Thanks, B. I’ve got her, though. I tracked her using a necklace I’d given her. Thank fuck she took it with her. She’s all the way downtown near the seaport. I’m heading there now.”
"Send me the address and I’ll meet you. You need backup in case it’s a trap.”
"Then it's a trap I'm walking into with enough firepower to blow out a city block. Bring everything we have."
"What if she's already—?"
"She's not." The words come out harder than I intended. "She's not dead, Bronx. Don’t even fuckin say that."
I end the call and grab my gun from the safe, checking the magazine is full. I throw more weapons into a duffel bag, enough to start a small war if necessary. Whatever I have to do to save her.
The note is crumpled on the dresser. I smooth it out, reading her words again.
The man I fell in love with.
I was so focused on the betrayal, so blinded by my own paranoia, that I couldn't see what was right in front of me.
A woman torn between impossible choices, trying to save everyone she loved, including me.
And I threw her away.
But I'm going to get her back. I'm going to tear apart everyone who touched her, and then I'm going to spend the rest of my life making up for being the kind of man who walks away when his woman needs him most.
“Let’s go,” I say to Reign, who’s scrolling through his phone. He holds it up. “I just plugged the address you texted into the GPS. It’s fucking on. I always wanted to fuck that asshole Roman’s shit up.”
“Now’s your chance,” I grunt.
The elevator ride down to the ground floor feels more like a year than just a couple of minutes. Every second that passes is another second she's in danger, another moment I'm not protecting her like I swore to do.
My phone buzzes with a text from Bronx.
On my way. ETA 10 minutes. Let’s destroy that fucker.
I let out an unsteady breath. My brothers have my back, like always. But this time, it's not about business or territory or respect.
This time, it's about the woman who somehow managed to build a home in my fucking heart and make me believe in something other than violence and power.
The woman I love.
The woman I'm going to save, even if I have to burn down the whole fucking city to do it.
I reach the garage and throw the duffel bag into the back seat of Reign’s truck. The engine roars to life, and he peels out of the parking garage.
I load the weapons in my duffel as Reign speeds down city streets. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, gut clenching tight.
I tighten my fingers around the handle of a Glock 13, the tips numb and white from the pressure.
I’m coming, Livvie. Hold on… I won’t lose you again.
And God help anyone who fucking dares to stand between me and my wife because I won’t think twice before torching him where he stands.