Chapter 35
35
Layne
M atteo’s hand rests on my thigh. It’s that, or my leg bounces as I process what they have done and where we are going.
“It looks like you’re about to pop a vein,” he says quietly, handing over the glass of water before pushing the plate of cookies closer.
I shake my head; the loss of words is real. My eyes jump to Dante, and he’s got that kick-ass vibe going on, with a small smile on his face. “Are you reading the room right?”
Blowing out an exhale, and not answering him, because I still can’t quite talk, I look at Valentine, who’s lounging back in the seat opposite me, his legs crossed, his eyes blazing with as many emotions as I’m sorting out.
He takes a sip of his whiskey, swirling the ice once he’s done.
“Layne, it’s not a blindside. If you really don’t want us to do this, I will tell them to turn around and take us home.”
“But how did you do it? Why?” I find my voice, asking the easiest questions first. I think.
“We knew you were living under an alias, and once we discovered who you were, you know that we started recovering and removing the ways we had managed to find you. I suspect, if we didn’t have the contacts we have, your real identity would still be undiscovered, but lucky for us, we have incredible hackers hidden away.”
I take a small sip of the water, putting it back down before grabbing a hold of Matteo’s hand.
“The judge who helped me make you ours”—Valentine smiles guiltily, but also triumphantly—“answered a few open-ended questions we had about the reasons people use different names, and one thing led to another. The question was simple—could we delete Ariana Rothchild but claim her academic achievement under another name? He asked for some time to consider his answer, but he came back to us yesterday, citing cases and several relevant precedents.”
“You worked your ass off for your bachelor’s degree. You were admitted to Yale Law, where you then aced everything put in front of you,” Dante says, leaning forward and staring deep into my soul while he speaks.
The change in my ability to scent them properly doesn’t stop me from picking up the heady notes of his Amaretto scent.
“You just need your Juris Doctor, and you are fucking on your way.” The way Dante speaks, with so much conviction and confidence, is infectious.
Much like the way Valentine’s pride and encouragement slashes through a dozen or so reasons I maybe shouldn’t be doing this. Turning in my chair to look at Matteo, I find the same range of emotions on his face.
“You can do this. Your office is on the same floor as ours. You will be safe—we will make sure of it—but, Layne, you were born to be both a lawyer, and ours. Don’t let your family take away from you what makes you happy. Besides, I’m pretty sure you will be the most successful criminal attorney, given the—” Matteo uses his finger, waving around to point out the obvious.
“You might be the only criminal attorney not to have to advertise their services,” Valentine adds. “You’ll handle everything for us, but Ronin and Santiago will also be on board.”
“What?” I stammer, getting knocked on my butt again.
“It’s part of the arrangement we made. Full support in any area I ask them to help me with.” Valentine keeps going. “Your success is important to our pack, which means they will be on board.”
Matteo squeezes my hand. “Val fails to mention, he has the same requirement on his shoulders.”
Valentine takes another sip, a purposeful gesture that screams this is your decision .
I look out the window. The clouds and the blue of the sky look the same as before Pack De Luca blew my mind. I’m not exactly surprised…more stunned at the thoughtfulness at their incredibly personal courting gift. When they said we were going to get a gift, I figured a shopping spree or maybe a home by the beach, but handing me my future on a silver platter? God, I’m back to being nearly speechless.
Without looking at them, I speak. “They didn’t remove my transcripts?”
“Nope,” Dante says almost immediately.
“Does it trigger anything? Like, does it give my location away if I claim them?”
“No.” Matteo answers this time. “We’re flying across the country, but we’re also not using the main entrance to the Sterling Memorial Library.”
God, just the thought of that library, of stepping foot back onto the Yale campus, almost makes me whine with want. But I can’t let myself get swept away.
“We can’t just access it online?”
“Fuck that. You are getting the graduation that was stolen from you!”
I laugh at that. Dante isn’t wrong, but he’s ignoring that he’s righting two wrongs with one right. The first is breaking into the library to steal my transcripts; the second is Dante being a comedian, because when we first talked about this, he told me that, for the day, he’s a professor at Yale, according to some doctored certificate someone made for him. The robes he bought online are currently hanging in the back of the Gulfstream, behind where Legos, Leon, and a handful of their most loyal men are sitting.
All they’re waiting on is my go ahead.
“I’ve spent my life studying to lock up criminals as a prosecutor. I barely know anything about defense law.”
“So, you go work with our current legal team until you’re confident enough. Or, Layne, you just fucking admit it would literally take you a month of reading for you to be better educated and have a greater insight than most criminal lawyers who have been practicing for years,” Valentine says matter-of-factly, in his commanding Alpha voice.
I shiver past the way it makes me feel and focus on the conviction. The three of them are so right in everything they say. The hesitation is more of a moral realignment, but that was bred into me. Although, most people have the same perception I do—criminals are bad. They are blights on our society that should be stopped at all costs. Perhaps if I hadn’t stumbled into this pack’s world, I would have stayed in the same mindset, even given how shitty my family was to me. But now that I’m here, I have seen firsthand what good, and moralistic, people they are.
Yes, they are violent, and they profit off all the vices that would have the pearl clutchers nearly strangling themselves, but Valentine, Dante, and Matteo, along with the people in their inner circle, are loyal to a fault and overflowing with integrity.
“The first question is the easy one,” Valentine suggests. I don’t turn to look at him when he goes on. “Would you like your academic transcripts and official degree?”
Without hesitation, I answer him. “Yes.”
“The second question Val wants to ask but I will instead—do you want me to wear clothes under the robes, or do you want to feel up your professor real quick before your husbands catch you?” Dante asks.
I laugh so hard, I have to wipe off the condensation from the window.
“Enough,” Matteo says, settling us all down. He squeezes my hand before placing the huge bundle of documents on my lap. “Our wife has plenty of reading material to keep her occupied while we fly. Valentine, you’ve got work to do, and Dante and I have a score to settle.”
Dante keeps a straight face, not saying anything as he reaches inside his own briefcase and brings out a deck of cards and a bundle of fresh hundred-dollar bills. From next to me, Matteo stands and shuffles over to the other seats across the aisle. Dante joins him, along with Legos and Leon, and the four of them gamble and play cards until the flight attendant tells us it’s safe for us to disembark.
The car ride passes uneventfully, but that might just be because my nerves are skyrocketing.
“Am I overdressed? I’m wearing heels. If we’re breaking in somewhere, shouldn’t we all be wearing breaking-in clothes or something?”
Valentine reaches out and nabs my bouncing leg, flicking off my heel and massaging the ball of my foot. “You are dressed like a goddess,” he soothes. “Sit back.”
He says it in such a way, much like the same way he looks at me, that has all my arguments floating away. Valentine and Dante talk about a shipment of weapons that safely arrived after the involvement of Ronin, and I zone out completely.
My eyes open back up when the car slows. The underground garage we’re in is full of maintenance equipment and janitorial carts, along with a wall of well-dressed guards.
Legos reaches out to open Dante’s door, and while Valentine slides my shoe on, the others get out of the car.
“You deserve this, you know,” he says, his hand out, waiting for mine. “It’s another step in reclaiming what they took.”
“I’m still a little blown away that you all did this. It’s a huge risk.”
“There is nothing that will ever stop us from helping you find your happiness.”
“Shit, Valentine, you keep saying that, and you’re going to ruin my makeup.”
“Since we can’t be ruining panties, I mean we can but…”
The way he laughs, so honestly and unreservedly, paints the future I want. The future I will fight for.
As soon as I am out of the car, the mood changes. It dips dangerously cold. Inside the car, we were us and carefree, while out here, everyone is wearing their game faces—if games faces were promises of painful and bloody acts of violence.
No one talks, and our steps sound as one. I don’t make eye contact with the people who greet us, the very ones that unlock doors that should be impossible to pass. The last corridor is the darkest and takes us into the heart of the archive room at Yale, and when it swings open, Valentine pulls me to a stop while the others swarm through the darkness.
An emergency light flickers on, and my eyes flare wide when the preparations for our visit are unveiled. I seriously thought Dante was joking and just winding me up with the robe, but a mini stage has been set up, complete with garlands of white lilies and chairs facing the lectern he is standing behind.
Valentine drops me off at the stairs to the stage before he goes and sits down. In the very small crowd are the faces of everyone on the plane, including seats for Bella and Edward. It’s ridiculous.
It’s so absurdly perfect that, when Dante calls out, “Please welcome our next graduate to the stage, Mrs. Layne De Luca,” I burst into tears.
Happy tears.
Really fucking happy tears.