30. Chapter 29 Soren
Istare down at my beautiful, sleeping wife. I’ve had to watch her struggle over the last week, not knowing how to help her. I didn’t want to push her too much. Jude is making her life harder than necessary. I suppose so am I. I never wanted that for her. It’s not until the early morning that I’m able to fall asleep.
I wake to Gin’s frantic voice and hear her talking to her mother. She gives me no time to ask if everything is okay. I stand silently as I watch Gin pull clothes on and rush out the door to go to her mother. There isn’t even enough time to ask what the matter is. I’ll have to call the nurse to get an update ASAP.
At the same time that my wife rushes out the door, both my brothers step in with grim expressions. Cyrus takes out my scotch and pours each of us a drink two fingers deep.
The three of us down the amber liquid, its sting reminding me I’m not invisible. “The Armatos retaliated last night,” Cyrus informs me.
I nod, having half expected them to do something. We did kill a second cousin of theirs, but they put our business at risk.
“What did they do?” I hope they didn’t blow anything up.
“They killed Jude,” Atticus says grimly, his expression one of sorrow.
My heart doesn’t want to believe it. “Our Jude?” Both my hands rub at the side of my temples and my brothers nod in unison.
“Fuck,” I hiss. I ease a deep breath past my tightening lungs as the years of our friendship play out in my mind. I loved him as much as I love my brothers.
“We have word that his mother is going to identify his body,” Cyrus responds, lowering his voice and looking around. It takes me a second to realize he’s looking for Gin.
All my thoughts go to my wife. That’s why she left here frantically. I rush to go grab my coat.
“Where are you going?” Atticus asks.
“I have to see how Ginevra is doing. She can’t be alone right now.” I’m an asshole. I didn’t even chase after her this morning. I should have. Family shit can wait. She must be beside herself.
Atticus grabs my coat from my hands and Cyrus latches on to my arm. “You’re not going anywhere. We have to deal with this.”
“The fuck I’m not!’ I try to shake off my brother, but his grip tightens. “Soren, her bodyguard will be with her. She’s safe.”
I grab my phone and call her guard. “Do you have eyes on her?”
“Yes, sir.”
I try to make a run for it but both my brothers hold me back.
“Use your fucking head!” they shout at me.
“I’m going to my wife.”
Jude was a fuck up, but he was my best friend. He didn’t deserve to be murdered. Gin must be going out of her mind.
“As your Don, I order you not to fucking leave this room.” Cyrus raises his voice. It halts me mid-step and I turn toward him.
“You don’t understand.”
He cuts me off. “She is fine. We need to deal with the war at our doorstep. Otherwise, you might not be able to keep that wife of yours safe.”
A boulder sits heavy in my stomach. I lash out by punching the wall beside the door. My hand easily explodes through the drywall.
“Get your frustrations out now, because we need you focused,” Cyrus tells me.
The side of my head pulses against my finger pads.
Atticus brings out his phone and shows me a photo of my dead best friend. His hands have been cut off and made into a necklace that hangs around his neck. Rage fills each of my nerves.
“We have to respond.” Neither of my brothers jump at the idea. “They let him bleed to death. That’s a brutal way to die,” I argue, trying to back up my point. This is far worse than being shot in the back of the head.
Cyrus speaks up, “It could have been worse. I think we’re even now. If we let this be, I don’t see them continuing the vendetta. We’re even.”
My eyes widen at my brother’s lack of response. “Gin is going to expect us to do something.”
It’s killing me inside, not being with her in a moment like this.
“Soren, we’re going to pretend this didn’t happen. We don’t want to escalate this war over Jude. He was bringing way too much heat on us anyway. The Armatos did us a favor. Eventually, it would have been one us taking him out. He was growing reckless and sloppy. Not even you could control him anymore.”
I stare at my brothers, speechless. They don’t give a damn.
“You’re being cowards,” I scoff.
They shake their heads. “You need to think straight. You know we’re right,” Atticus replies.
I grab the bottle of scotch and pour myself another sip. It burns its way down my throat before I steady my gaze on my brothers.
“What do I tell Gin?”
“Nothing,” they say in unison.
Ipace in the kitchen, waiting for Gin to come home. I expected her to be here hours ago. The sun has long since gone down and she still hasn’t contacted me.
Finally, the door opens and a gust of winter wind rushes through the house as she walks in. I stride toward her and try to bring her into my arms, but she pushes me away. A frown creases my forehead as I watch her take off her shoes and step farther into the house. “I’m only here for a minute to grab a few things, then I’m going back to my mother.”
Her eyes are red and puffy from crying. “What’s wrong?” I ask, even though I know, but I want her to tell me. I want to be the one she opens up to.
She levels me with a look. “It’s convenient that Jude got mixed up with some drugs and was perhaps going to be spending a lot of time in jail—possibly bringing you down with him— then ends up in the morgue.” Her tone is harsh with her green eyes flicking to me, and I feel an intense punch to the stomach.
The room is filling with thick silence, coiled with a world of tension between us as she watches my reaction. Her eyebrows draw together and she shakes her head, moving past me. She looks so fucking sad and it takes a swing at my heart.
I step forward, grabbing her hand, but she rips it from my fingers before I can get a good hold. “You don’t get to kill my brother and comfort me after.”
I want to tell her I didn’t, but I also didn’t protect him like I should have. We were best friends, and instead of watching out for him like I always have, I sat back when I knew he was being reckless enough to get himself killed.
I may not have put the bullet in him, but I didn’t stop it. The worst part is that I thought he deserved it, but looking at my wife’s swollen, grief-stricken eyes, I know I fucked up.
“You had your men follow me around all day, you knew where I was, and yet you stayed here. That’s all I need to know.” She walks away from me with a look of disgust on her face.
“I’m so sorry. I tried to come to you, but my brothers—”
She spins on her toes back at me. “No, you fucking didn’t!” she screams, tears falling over her lashes. The curse word explodes from her mouth and it sounds foreign, unnatural. “Instead of being a man and identifying your best friend’s fucking corpse, you made his sick mother do it. You are a disgrace.”
My voice is hoarse with emotion that I try to push down, but it refuses to listen. “I love you, Gin.”
“You don’t know what love is. Let’s be honest; you only married me so you could have your inheritance, and I wanted my mother to get better.”
Christ, I love this woman so much it breaks my heart when she’s hurting. I want to take it all away from her. She slams the bedroom door, but I barge in anyway. I pull her close and slam my lips on hers, trying to show her what she does to me. She gasps in surprise, allowing me to slip my tongue in, but then is pushing me away with all of her might.
She wipes her mouth, her lips curved downwards. “Don’t ever touch me again,” she hisses, pulling a few clothes from hangers before pushing past me again.
My hands fist at my sides as I force my feet to stay in place. I let her walk away from me, when everything in my body is yelling at me to stop her. Her perfume taunts me as her scent dances around me and the motion sensor light turns off, leaving me in the dark.