Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Choyce Mancinelli
Brooklyn always felt louder at night, even when the streets should’ve been sleep.
Sirens in the distance, music bleeding from cracked windows, tires hissing against pavement.
I loved it all, but tonight there was nothing.
The silence pressed in like the whole borough was holding its breath and mourning something I didn't understand.
An eerie feeling greeted me as I pulled up behind The Gilded Leaf.
I killed the engine and let the headlights dim out.
Lucian, calling for a meeting in Brooklyn, felt strange. He didn't travel to other boroughs as far as I knew, but he was also calculating. If Lucian made a move, it was never for the sake of doing so. Everything with him was intentional, and this meeting wasn't any different.
Maybe this is about the Sovereign Circle.
The thought came fast, and I shut it down just as quickly.
It didn't make sense for Lucian to bring me here, not when he hadn't announced to his people that I'd be taking over.
From my time living with him, I learned he treated transitions like coronations.
If this were about succession, it wouldn't be happening in a Brooklyn cigar lounge.
Whatever this was felt different and out of my control.
I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel, my mind retracing the last few hours, combing through hushed conversations, weird glances, and pauses that lingered whenever I walked by.
Hours ago, I sat in front of a marble wall while they sealed my husband into a niche like a document being archived.
Men whispered as they stared at me, as if I were an exquisite art exhibit.
Women studied me like grief was contagious, and they wanted no parts. All of that seemed ordinary except…
My grip tightened around the steering wheel as realization settled heavier than the diamond band that still circled my ring finger.
Talon's service wasn't about grief. It was a transfer of power, and my ass managed to catch it and miss it at the same damn time.
Men wearing expensive watches and carrying heavier reputations shook Lucian's hand first. Their attention shifted shortly after, not to me, but to Honor.
While playing the grieving wife, I literally watched Honor take what was supposed to be mine in real time.
Lucian would murmur something low into someone's ear, then shoot a subtle nod in Honor's direction, and just like that, the energy shifted.
Eyes that skimmed over me sharpened with interest. Hands that offered me weak condolences gripped his with purpose.
"Fuck Honor," I groaned.
Without trying, he moved the room with his confidence, which he wore better than his tailored suit. It pulled attention without asking. Men who prided themselves on dominance leaned in when he spoke, listening more than they talked, and evaluated his silence like it carried fucking instructions.
I hated that I noticed, and that I was still drawn to him.
I was surrounded by ash and polished marble and the finality of death and was blatantly attracted to the same nigga who humiliated me.
The same nigga who might've been stealing what should've belonged to me.
That burned hotter than the little bit of grief I felt because if tonight was really about succession, then this was positioning.
And I needed to know whether I was walking in as Talon's legacy or about to sit and watch that legacy get placed in Honor's hands.
It was easy to survive betrayal and humiliation.
I knew how to take that and turn it into ambition, but watching Lucian choose Honor over me after what I did to my sister?
That was betrayal and stupidity at the highest level.
Everything I sacrificed, every line I crossed, was strategic.
Honor taking it all didn't make me a mastermind.
It made me a pawn. One who destroyed my own family just to end up disposable.
My phone buzzed in my hand, pulling me back to The Gilded Leaf.
I checked it, thinking it was Lucian, but it was just a notification.
I stared at my screen, needing a second opinion.
My first thought was to call Kage, but I wasn't in the mood to hear him say I let my feelings for Honor cloud my judgment.
My second thought was Emersyn. I dialed her up, and the phone rang twice.
"Hey," she answered.
"You busy? "I asked, keeping my tone easy even though my pulse was going haywire.
"For you? Never. What happened?"
I leaned my head back against the seat and shut my eyes.
"I think Lucian is handing everything over to Honor tonight. I'm parked outside The Glided Leaf and—"
"I need you to listen to me, Choyce," she said, her voice turning stern. "Lucian is handing everything over to Honor tonight—"
"You fucking knew?" I barked. "What was all that, women making history bullshit if you knew?"
"Choyce," She chuckled, but there was no humor. "I don't argue unless your name is Killian and that's only because my brother is stubborn."
"Okay, but—"
"There are no buts," she snapped. "I asked you to listen for a reason. Now, are you going to listen, or should I hang up and allow you to walk into that meeting blind?"
"I'll listen," I grumbled.
"Good. Like I was saying. Honor will be in charge of the Mancinelli Mafia and hold the Gravehart Grove seat in the Sovereign Circle come sunrise.
What's being discussed tonight, I don't know verbatim, but I do know Lucian is testing you.
Every man in that room will be testing you, so I need you to hold it together. "
"Testing me for what?"
"For Honor's number two. Every seat holder is supposed to have a proxy. Someone who can step in if they can't make a meeting. Technically, I'm the first woman to hold the honor, but Killian never misses a meeting. You, on the other hand, actually have the chance to be the first to use it."
"But Honor—"
"We both know Honor doesn't want to walk in Lucian's footsteps."
"Then why is he—"
"Trust what you know," she evenly stated, "and believe a quarter of what you don't understand."
"None of this is making sense."
"Soon enough, everything will make sense, I promise. Now, where are you?"
"Behind the lounge waiting on Lucian to text me that he's here or—"
Headlights from an SUV flared against my windshield, blinding me from the left.
"Choyce, you okay?" Emersyn asked.
"Yeah, some dumb ass is blinking his headlights at my car.
"Get out and walk over there."
"What? Why?"
"That car didn't just appear. It's been sitting there watching you. Get out and go handle your business. Your test is starting."
"Emersyn, I—"
The phone hung up, cutting my sentence short.
Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my fingers around my necklace and whispered a quick prayer for protection, then stepped out of my car.
The night air nipped against my skin as I crossed the parking lot.
The flashing stopped once I was close enough to see my reflection in the tinted windows of the black SUV.
Seconds later, the window cracked, and the barrel of a Glock greeted me.
"Name," a burly voice demanded.
My lips parted to answer, then pressed shut as I felt a set of eyes dragging over my body from behind the tint.
"Name," he repeated.
"Choyce."
"Last name?"
"If you want it, you're gonna have to give me something more than a threat you're not bold enough to make face-to-face," I evenly replied.
A low chuckle answered me. The gun pulled back as the window slid up and the door opened.
Up close, this man was massive. He stepped out tall and built like a bear standing on his hind legs.
His skin was deep and smooth, the same rich brown as polished mahogany.
A thick beard framed his jaw, but the jagged cut slicing through his eyebrow held my gaze.
The scar didn't look accidental. It looked interrupted.
The hazel eyes underneath it were cold and assessing, like he was deciding if I was worth the bullet he almost used.
He shut the SUV door with a heavy thud and stepped into my space, close enough to make the air feel thinner around us.
"Last name," he repeated, grimacing like patience wasn't something he practiced.
"Give me your name first," I challenged, rolling my shoulders back as if that could magically stretch me to his height.
"Righteous."
"Believing you're morally right or your actions are justifiable," I responded.
"What?" His hardened expression softened long enough for a smirk to ghost across his lips, then flee.
"You asked me the definition of righteous."
"When did I ask you that shit?" A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "You asked me my name. I answered."
"Your name is Righteous?" I scoffed. "The fuck were your parents—"
The gun moved so fast I didn't see it, only felt it. Cold metal was now pressing into the narrowed space between my eyes.
"Watch your fucking mouth when mentioning my parents," he gritted. He held it there a second longer before stepping back. "Bring your stupid ass on."
He brushed past me like I was some little nigga on the block he could order around.
"Apologize first," I called after him, staring at his broad back.
He stopped mid-step, angling his head enough for me to catch the edge of his expression.
"I don't do those. Whatever I did was warranted."
"Putting a gun to my face because you thought I was going to disrespect your parents isn't justifiable."
Righteous turned fully, deadpan and dangerous in a way that didn't need volume.
"Aye, you see dumb fuck written on my face anywhere?" he calmly asked.
My throat tightened. "Wha…what?"
"I know you heard what I said." He took one step toward me. "I need to know what you see that made you say that dumb shit."
"I don't, but you also can't assume—"