Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
NICO
Sitting in the backyard, I lean back in my chair and gaze at the fire blazing in the fire pit, despite the warm weather. Tonight is the one year anniversary of my wedding day, and I am setting my father’s last will and testament ablaze.
We spent the day celebrating all the good things this year has brought despite the ones that still plague Rosa’s sleep. She no longer screams the house down when she wakes up, but the whimpers have me pulling her closer while she sleeps.
I don’t think she remembers her nightmares after they happen anymore. There are mornings when she does recount something she dreamed about, but it’s not happening as often as it once did.
The will and its contents matter less than it did when I thought I had something to prove, and I am in direct violation of it since I haven’t “produced an heir.” My eyes roll back at how fucking stupid that sounds in my mind now.
I contracted with Renzo Accetta to marry his daughter as if I was buying a prized horse at auction.
Rosalia is so much more than that. I don’t even recognize who I am now compared to the lost man who agreed to steal my wife’s freedom from her. I want nothing to do with that man, and I don’t know what I was thinking back then.
So many of my father’s businesses are distasteful and aren’t things I would even want to pursue. Instead, I’ve reached out to people in the family and offered them the businesses I know they have interest in.
Unlike Rosalia’s family, I am related to none of the men who are “the family.” They’re people my father got close with as he was building his empire and he brought them into the business. I may have called some of them uncles and shit, but they have absolutely no blood relation to me.
It’s why my father felt so comfortable selling some of their children to pedophiles he wanted to keep in check.
Keeping the beasts at bay to get what he wanted and needed from them was his only concern.
My father’s business decisions are still a disgusting practice to date, and I traveled with my pack to murder anyone who used my father’s services.
Pablo finished his deep dive of their computer files and pulled every depraved thing he could find in evidence before we destroyed the people who ruined so many children’s lives.
Rosalia handled the plane ride better than I thought she would, because her problem lies more with the initial leaving of our home. Each time it gets easier, the nightmares grow fewer, and she still works with her therapist to discuss things as they crop up.
Now that some of my own “family” issues have been put to bed, I feel that curl of pain whenever I think of my father loosening.
No one is coming for me to kill my pack for showing weakness.
Choosing to go in a different business path is finding me respect, and that keeps me from burning bridges I don’t need to burn.
There was no animosity when I sold my home in Michigan now that all of my businesses there are liquidated and I made it clear I didn’t want to swim in their pond.
I’m enjoying my life in Savannah, and my pack is thriving.
The property management company we have created is doing well, and the money from those properties is great.
On the flip side, we’ve expanded from more than just renting apartments and homes to our men and have a building of historical apartments that we rent out to college students and young families.
It’s solid, legitimate business to hold us over while I enjoy the shadier side of things. Money laundering for others is one of my favorite things to do, and the possibility of being shot is much lower.
We’re working with some of the other packs in Savannah that are in need of our services, and it’s been going well.
Breathing in the scent of paper burning, I shake my head at how much has changed in the past eight months.
Pablo is loving his position at Pack Alston’s security company, and he does video calls with clients to discuss what he can offer.
Between the side jobs he does for me, this is keeping him fulfilled and happy.
Ciro and Dario are content to provide support for me in whatever I need. They also check in with the manager we hired for the institute we opened to help my father’s victims. It’s a form of closure I hope will alleviate my own guilt for not noticing sooner what he was doing.
My brothers are happy. They have purpose in our pack. As long as they can occasionally get their hands dirty and fuck someone up, they’re good. Their focus is on Pablo, Verona, Rosalia, and our pack. I have to say, having the flexibility in our time with less stress is really fucking nice.
If I want to take the whole damn day off to disappear with my people, I can do that without people blowing up my phone. The men who moved to Savannah are finding their way forward, and some of them have asked me for my blessing on new business opportunities.
I fucking love people who take initiative.
My phone burns a hole in my pocket as I think about my loose ends. Avery is still making trouble for people, and while Rise Up For Savannah is making it more difficult for her to find people to kidnap, we still have omegas disappear while going home from work or school.
Not everyone is willing to pick up the phone and ask for help. Some think a quick walk home isn’t a big deal, and Avery has expanded her force of men to do her dirty work. They watch from the shadows, waiting for a vulnerable moment before they swoop in to snatch omegas up.
We’re doing our best, but I’m not a fucking hero. I know I can’t save everyone and we’ve had our own shit to deal with. Still, I know the direct horrors Avery is capable of, and she scares me.
Rise Up For Savannah is moving in full swing, something everyone is happy about.
The mayor and commissioner had a press conference about it and said they had a direct hand in creating it.
We all know this is a blatant lie, but none of us are in this for clout or recognition.
The organization began as a cover to kill Rosalia’s family, and has grown into something larger.
“Nico.”
My eyes close as Rosalia’s voice flows over me, and my lips curl in pleasure that she is here. I was wondering if the fire would bring her out to check on it, and at one point, I thought I felt her eyes on me.
“Hey, wife. Come sit with me?”
Her bare feet pad along the brick pavers as I turn to watch her. She’s wearing a backless house dress that makes my mouth water, and her hair is longer than I’ve ever seen it before.
It curls down her back in a tumble of darkness.
Her curves make me eager to touch her, and her smirk tells me she knows this.
Her skin no longer shows the evidence of her kidnapping, and it’s a testament to her surgeon.
I know Rosa has her suspicions, but I made a really large donation to show our appreciation to Dr. Winters.
This way, he can continue doing the work he does, because I’ve seen first hand how important it is.
Skin grafts don’t erase the harm that happened to Rosa, but it does change how often she thinks about it. She can have good days without catching a glimpse in the mirror of her rapist’s name carved into her skin or a knife sketch of a dick.
Cassidy suggested the name of a tattoo artist for when Rosalia is ready to take that step, but it’ll be a while before her back will be ready for that. Thankfully, this artist enjoys challenging tattoo projects, and is more than willing to wait for my wife’s back to heal completely.
I’ll cling to the good days. God only knows we deserve some of that light.
There are still things that go bump in the night that hurt others, and I’m related to one of them.
Emilia is a ghost that enjoys taunting me of late.
I didn’t even know I was on her radar, but I received a letter to the Michigan house that was forwarded to Savannah this afternoon that said otherwise.
Cousin,
I hear my enemies have asked that you look for me. Don’t bother and enjoy your pack.
I don’t involve my family in my business unless they give me a reason to.
Be well,
Emilia.
I’m taking this as the warning it is. Karma will find her soon enough. I can’t take responsibility for anything else. I have my hands full enough with my little corner of life. The Crisis Institute for Wellness in Michigan is no longer just a place to help heal the wounds my father caused.
It’s open to the public with free services for those who want therapy, and there’s a hospital portion to it for those who need more intensive treatment.
After interviewing several people to manage the hospital, Bernice Reynolds is who I decided to hire, and she doesn’t have a clue about why certain individuals will be accepting services there.
She and some of the office staff are reaching out to people on a list they’ve been given they believe comes from the state. In actuality, every one of those people are victims of child abuse due to my father’s actions.
It’s a white lie of omission, yet one that has to stay in place for now.
Hopefully, she never figures out what lies beneath the shiny new position she finds herself at. The pay is better than any other non-profit job she’s likely to find, and the hours are grueling.
As long as she toes the line, the status quo will remain in place, and I won’t need to visit her for less than professional reasons.
I can still be a ruthless bastard when necessary. My pack is who I give the best pieces of myself to.
My hands squeeze Rosa’s waist as I ease her into my lap, and she gives me a smile as she snuggles against my chest.
“How are you feeling about your father’s will being null and void?” she asks tentatively.
My lips press together at her question before I relax my body to reply.
“His last words from beyond the grave were made with the intent to fuck me over. Marriages and children shouldn't be a contingency plan,” I growl. “I’m glad he met his demise at the end of Hollis’ knife.”