Chapter 36 Kingston
KINGSTON
"What's so fucking urgent it couldn't wait?" I ask Bronx the second the hospital room door closes behind us.
He's pacing the hallway like a caged animal, which means whatever he found isn't good news.
"The Red Tribunal wants a meeting."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. Says it's about resolution."
I lean against the wall, processing. "What kind of resolution?"
"The kind that usually ends with someone in a body bag.
" Bronx pulls out a cigarette and holds it between his fingers despite the No Smoking signs everywhere.
"But here's the thing. I've been digging deeper into that Blood Vault intel.
What Roman had was real, but it's only a small amount of what they're sitting on. "
"How much deeper does this go?"
"Deep enough to bury every major family on the East Coast. Politicians, judges, cops—they've got files on everyone. But that's not what they're protecting."
I wait for him to continue, but he's staring out the window like he's seeing ghosts float past.
"What are they protecting, Bronx?"
"Information that could bring down governments. Foreign assets, CIA operations, nuclear codes. Shit that makes our little turf wars look like playground fights."
"So we're not just dealing with organized crime."
"We're dealing with the people who decide which countries live or die." He paces in front of me. "Roman was selling breadcrumbs to the highest bidder. They wanted him dead, and they used Livvie as bait to make sure we'd do it."
"What about Livvie's order? To kill me?"
"Guess they took a chance. Assumed she’d never follow through, which gave them full control over both families. Made us dance to their tune while they cleaned up their mess."
“And now?” I ask, raking a hand through my hair.
“Now,” Bronx says. “You’ve gotta get your ass in front of the Red Tribunal to figure out how the hell we move forward from here without losing our empire.”
Three days later, Livvie's finally home. Her left arm is still weak, but at least she can move her fingers. The doctors say with physical therapy, she might regain full function. Might.
It’s hope, and that’s enough for us right now.
She sits on our bed, trying to hold the new violin I bought her. The frustration on her face when she can't grip it properly makes me want to put bullets in every Red Tribunal bastard who's still breathing.
"I have to go," I tell her, straightening my tie.
"No." She puts the violin down on the bed next to her. "Don't go, Kingston. Please."
"This isn't optional, princess. If I don't show, they'll come here."
"Then we'll fight them together."
I sit on the edge of the bed and take her good hand in mine. "Your mother's staying with you while I’m gone. Bronx has security on every floor. You'll be safe."
"I don't care about being safe. I care about you coming home."
"I'll come home. I promise."
"How can you promise that?"
"Because I'm not done with you yet. We're forever, remember?"
She looks at me with those green eyes, and I see the fear glimmering in the depths even though she tries so hard to hide it. But underneath the fear, there's trust. She believes in me.
"Forever," she whispers.
I kiss her forehead, then her lips. "I love you, Livvie Viacava."
When I stand and head for the door, her voice slips over my shoulder. "I love you, too, Kingston. And it’s not because you look good in a suit."
I keep walking, the smile on my mouth fucking aching my cheeks. Who knew having a wife could light me up inside.
The meeting is in a nondescript office building in downtown Manhattan.
Twenty floors of legitimate businesses, but the Red Tribunal owns the top three.
Bronx and Reign flank me as we ride the elevator to the twenty-first floor.
This time, they allowed me to bring guests because my brothers helped to neutralize the threat of Roman and his crew.
"Whatever they offer," I say, "we listen. We don't commit to anything."
"And if they threaten Livvie?" Reign asks.
"Then we fucking burn this building down with them in it."
The elevator opens to an expansive reception area that looks like any other corporate office except for the two armed guards and the metal detectors that lead toward a hallway.
We're led to a conference room by a petite brunette where three men in expensive suits are waiting for us.
My skin crawls with impending dread.
"Mr. Viacava," the middle one says. "Please, sit."
None of us move.
His lips pull into a tight line. "Very well. Let's get to the point. Your wife's assignment has been completed."
"She didn't kill me," I say. “So how’s she off the hook?”
"Your death warrant was signed when you failed to kill your target. However, you succeeded in that mission when you eliminated Roman Keane and Agent Rawlings who were selling classified information. Agent Rawlings was your original target. Therefore, we’ve chosen to pardon you at this time."
Agent Rawlings. The masked fucker at the pier was a fucking Fed?
I exchange a look with my brothers and the man continues.
"Your wife is no longer required to fulfill her directive. Consider her debt paid."
"What about our families' obligations to you?"
The man smiles, and it's like watching a viper bare its fangs. "That's more complicated. You see, we know you've accessed certain files of ours. Information that could be… well, let’s just say, problematic if it fell into the wrong hands."
"What are you offering?"
"Continued protection for your operations. Expanded territories. Access to new revenue streams." He slides a folder across the table. "All in exchange for your discretion and full assistance whenever we ask for it."
I don't touch the folder. "What kind of assistance?"
"The kind your family has always excelled at. Problem-solving."
"You want us to be your enforcers," I say with a sigh.
"We want you to be partners. Junior partners, but partners nonetheless."
I raise an eyebrow at Bronx, then at Reign. Both their faces are stone, but I know what they're thinking. This isn't a partnership. It's pretty much slavery with financial and geographical benefits.
We’d be their fucking lackeys.
"We'll consider your offer," I say after a beat of silence.
"I'm afraid we need an answer today."
"Then you're not going to like it."
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as his gaze turns to ice. "Mr. Viacava, you seem to misunderstand your position."
My spine stiffens. "No, I understand it perfectly. You need us more than we need you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be offering deals. You'd be putting bullets in our heads."
"That can still be arranged."
I lean forward, pressing my hands flat on the table. "Try it. See what happens when you go to war with two families at once."
"Two families?"
"You think Cormac O'Callaghan is going to sit quietly when he learns you gave his daughter an ultimatum that involved killing him? You've overplayed your hand."
The man in the middle looks at his colleagues. A flicker of doubt creeps into his tight expression.
"We'll give you seventy-two hours to reconsider," he says finally.
"Don't bother. The answer will be the same."
We're almost to the elevator when he comes after us.
"Your brother is investigating some very dangerous people, Mr. Viacava. It would be unfortunate if his curiosity led to complications."
I stop and twist sharply around. "What the hell did you say?"
"Bronx has been asking questions about overseas operations. Foreign assets. The kind of questions that make certain people nervous."
Bronx steps forward, his fists clenched tight, but I hold up a hand.
"Stay the fuck away from my family," I warn. "All of my family."
"Then stay away from information that doesn't concern you."
The ride down is silent until we reach the parking garage.
"They're scared," Bronx says, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
"Good. Scared people make mistakes."
"Or they kill everyone who scares them."
"Let them try."
We drive to Dad's estate for the family meeting I've been putting off. Dad, Cormac, and both their advisors are waiting in the study.
"Well?" Dad asks the second we walk in. “What happened?”
"They offered us a junior partnership in exchange for being their attack dogs," I say, collapsing into a leather chair.
"And you said?"
"I told them to go fuck themselves."
Cormac laughs. Actually laughs. "Good. I was hoping you'd have more balls than your father."
Dad's face flushes a deep red. "Fuck you, Cormac. I’ve kept this family alive for forty years by knowing when to fight and when to negotiate."
"You kept this family alive by rolling over every time someone showed their teeth," I shoot back. "That stops now."
"Kingston—"
"No. I'm done listening to you justify your cowardice. Livvie almost died because you were too scared to stand up to these people in the first place."
"And what's your plan? Go to war with an organization that has dirt on half the government? You really want to take that risk?" Dad barks out, picking up his highball glass of whiskey and sloshing it around.
"My plan is to make sure they understand the cost of threatening what's ours."
Cormac nods his approval. "What do you need from us?"
"Intelligence. Resources. And a united front. They're counting on us fighting each other instead of them."
"You have it," Cormac says without hesitation.
Dad looks like he wants to argue, but he knows he's outnumbered. "Fine. But when this goes sideways, don't say I didn't warn you."
"It won't go sideways," I tell him. "Because we're not playing their game anymore. We're playing ours."
We talk some more about logistics and coordinated responses in case they try, stupidly, to send us a “message.” As we're leaving later, Bronx pulls me aside.
"There's something else. About those overseas operations I've been tracking."
"What about them?"
"I think I know where their main server is. The real Blood Vault, not the decoy Roman found."
"Where?"
"Eastern Europe. Probably Romania or Bulgaria. Somewhere they can operate without oversight."
"How sure are you?"
"Eighty percent.” He shrugs. “Maybe ninety."
“And your hacker confirmed this?”
Bronx nods. “Been working on it together with him.”
"What do you need?"
"Time. And probably a trip overseas."
I cock a brow at him. "Dangerous trip?"
Bronx shrugs. "Who knows. Might be the kind of trip where I hit the dirt. But to get my hands on this intel and fuck them over? Worth it."
I think about the threats the Tribunal made, about the look in that bastard's eyes when he mentioned Bronx's investigation.
"Then you don't go alone."
"Kingston—"
"You don't go alone. When you're ready, we'll discuss it as a family. All of us."
He nods. “Okay.”
This isn't just about the Tribunal anymore. It's about something bigger, something that could change everything.
By the time I get home, it's almost midnight. Livvie is waiting up, sitting in bed with a book she's not really reading.
"How did it go?" she asks, tossing the book aside.
I strip off my suit and climb into bed next to her. "We're not their employees. Never will be."
She swallows hard. "What does that mean for us, then?"
"It means we fight. But we fight on our terms."
She scrubs her face and blinks at me through tired eyes. "Are you scared?"
"Terrified. But not of them."
"Of what?"
"Of losing you. Of not being strong enough to protect what we've built."
She reaches up and touches my face. "You are strong enough. We are strong enough."
"Even if you can't play violin anymore?"
"Even then. Because I'm not just a violinist, Kingston. I'm your wife. That's who I choose to be."
I pull her closer, feeling her heartbeat thrum against my chest. "I love you, Livvie. No matter what comes next, that never changes."
"Forever?"
"Forever."
We hold each other in the dark, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappears. The Tribunal, the Blood Vault, the war that's coming… none of it matters right now.
All that matters is this. Us. The life we're building together, one day at a time.
But in the back of my mind, I know this is just the beginning. The Tribunal won't forget what I said today. They'll come for us eventually, and when they do, we'll be ready.
All of us. As a family.
Because that's what Viacavas do. We protect our own, no matter the cost.
The End
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