Chapter 23
Caine
"Cooly's father knows you've put eyes on him."
I held the phone to my ear, listening to the heavy silence on the other end of the line. Kael didn't immediately answer, but I could hear the low hum of a television and the distant sound of a woman's laughter in his background.
"What did he and Indigo do to Malachai this time?" I asked, rubbing the bridge of my nose. Dealing with Malachai and Indigo was a full-time job on a good day. On a bad day, it was a liability.
Kael exhaled, a sharp sound over the receiver. "Nothing. Indigo disinvited him from the kids' birthday party. Cut him off completely. Blocked his number."
I let out a harsh breath, my jaw tightening. "Are you fucking kidding me? A birthday party? Kael, this isn't something to start a war over. We have too much on the line to let petty domestic drama compromise our security."
"You don't get it, Caine," Kael said, his voice dropping into that chillingly calm register. "Cooly won't just give up. This isn't about a party to him, and it never was. He’s going to use this to try to get the upper hand on Malachai. If we don’t watch him now, we get caught lacking later."
"Whatever," I muttered, completely out of patience. "Just keep me updated if he actually makes a move. I have my own shit to handle."
I ended the call without waiting for his reply and jammed the phone into my pocket.
I parked the truck and looked at Zia’s clinic.
It was fully legally operated now—a community health center that helped those without insurance.
It was dark except for the single fluorescent light glowing from the back window.
Zia’s car was the only one in the parking lot.
When she hadn't come home, I knew she’d be here.
I unlocked the front door with my key. My boots clicked against the linoleum as I walked down the hallway toward the back examination rooms.
I pushed open the door to the prep station and stopped.
My wife was standing at the stainless-steel sink, her back to me. The water was running hot, steam rising into the air. She was scrubbing her hands with heavy antiseptic soap, her movements frantic, borderline obsessive. The water swirling down the drain was tinged a thick, dark crimson.
"You said you weren’t doing this anymore," I said, my voice echoing in the small room.
She startled, her head snapping around. "Caine. You scared me."
"Why are you here?" I stepped further into the room, crossing my arms. I looked past her to the steel tray on the counter—scalpels, bloody gauze, and a suturing kit.
"It was a favor," she said quickly, turning back to the sink to rinse the remaining pink foam from her knuckles. "Just a favor for someone who couldn't go to the ER."
"No." I walked over, reached past her, and shut the faucet off with a jerk. "No more. No more off-the-books criminal surgeries. We drew a line, and you just crossed it."
She grabbed a paper towel, drying her hands with sharp, angry movements. "Don't lecture me, Caine. You run a criminal organization. Half the wealth we have comes from shit that would put you away for life. Don't act like a saint now."
"It's not the same," I said, stepping directly into her space, forcing her to look up at me. "My operations are controlled. My people are protected. What you're doing here leaves you exposed. You’re playing doctor for street soldiers who bring the heat right to your doorstep. You’re being stupid.”
She tossed the paper towel into the bin. "You never used to act like this with me, talk to me like this. What's wrong with you?"
"I see I've indulged you too much," I replied, my voice dropping an octave, completely devoid of the usual softness I kept reserved just for her.
After the Lena incident, I realized she needed me to be more structured with her.
"I used to let things slide because I wanted you happy.
But if 'changed' means not letting you walk all over me anymore, then yeah—I've changed. "
She blinked, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features before she masked it with anger. "Are you giving me an ultimatum? Do as you say, or what, Caine?"
"We part ways."
She froze. The defiant posture she always held when we argued completely dissolved. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She stared at me like she was looking at a stranger.
I knew what she was thinking. In her mind, I was the man who would always bow, the one who worshipped the ground she walked on, the husband who would tolerate any amount of disrespect or danger just to keep her in my bed.
She thought I was a simp who couldn't breathe without her. I was bluffing, but she didn’t know that.
"You... you would leave me?" she whispered.
"I won't spend my nights wondering if I'm going to find you dead in a back room because you wanted to play savior to a predator," I said coldly, reaching out to grab her coat from the chair. I held it out to her. "I won't be worried about you being here alone, vulnerable. Make your decision.”
She looked at the coat, then up at my eyes. I could see that for the first time in our marriage, she realized she didn't hold all the cards.
"Let's go home," she said quietly, taking the coat from my hand.
I didn't smile, though I wanted to. I just turned and walked out to the truck, letting her follow.