Chapter 37 | Preston
THIRTY-SEVEN | PRESTON
The breeze brushes against my skin, the horizon a dark void beyond the harbor lights that dance on the surface of the water in the distance. A literal sea of stars that I’ve appreciated so many times.
Kate’s hands are perched on the edge, her beautiful, big green eyes taking in the expanse of rainbow that stretches around us.
This view used to be one of my favorites. Despite what transpires below, I used to associate Lachlan Park with laughter and bright faces. Memories of Tayla and me running around here as children before we grew up and understood the role this front played in our operations.
In what feels like an instant, all the joyful recollections were replaced with carnage and blank, lifeless eyes.
The joyful voices I heard as a kid were suddenly shattered into oblivion by the crack of gunshots slicing through the air.
The breeze off the water rushing through the park transformed into the last gasps of breath from my men—from Luciano’s—grazing against my skin and echoing in my ears as punishment for being fooled by the distraction that cost me the two people who were my world.
Through the years, plenty of massacres have happened in this park when the gates close.
All those useless souls from men who broke our blood oath were sacrificed for our high-stakes training exercises, which aimed to train recruits and punish those who defied us.
But that night five years ago, it became a battlefield.
A piece of history that people walk on, unaware that once the concrete below their shoes was spoiled by blood and brain matter.
I could never bring myself back to this view.
Until tonight.
Even now, as I sit at the top of the Ferris wheel, pain and hurt are still dense in my gut.
My muscles are clenched, a sweat breaking out on my forehead.
It feels like gravity is trying to haul me back to the ground, like I was never meant to be back here without them.
An inferno is raging in my lungs. Dropping my head and closing my eyes, I blow out a breath, folding my hands in my lap to stop them from shaking.
The air isn’t thinner up here, but it feels that way.
My body stills when soft skin envelops my hands balled on my lap. My head tilts, looking up at the striking girl beside me, her eyes transfixed on mine with a heady mix of wonder and worry. But she doesn’t say anything as her body next to mine soaks up my trembling.
I’m the goddamn boss of a mob, and here I am quivering like I’m afraid of heights.
Kate doesn’t say anything. She tenderly holds my hands in hers, her thumbs stroking soothing circles that start to chase away the darkness leaking in the corners of my vision.
I release a breath, the exhale carrying a little bit of the weight sitting on my chest. “Five years ago was the 90th anniversary of Lachlan Park.”
Kate knows how violent my sister’s and my mom’s deaths were. A tidbit my father released when he had us in the interrogation room when she was bound to the chair. But she doesn’t know why their hearts were in that box.
Why it happened.
Why they were killed.
Why I needed to watch her to make sure she wasn’t involved.
Those green orbs bounce between mine, listening intently.
A bleak, breathy laugh leaves my lips. “We always used to throw this huge damn party where the entire town would show up. At the end of the night, after the park would close, my family would come up here—like you and I are now.” My eyes dart around the black sky blanketing us, my heart smashing against my ribs.
Recounting what happened is bringing it back in a violent wave.
I push on. “Mom and Tayla made it on, but my father and I never did. We heard gunshots from deeper in the park and rushed there with Carter and our men, leaving my father’s right-hand man to protect them.
We thought they would’ve been,” emotion clings to my tongue, “safe up here.”
My gaze falls to the floor below our seat, while her eyes bore into my skull. Her fingers tighten around mine, giving me the strength to keep going.
“The Calco Cartel, an Italian mafia group, was looking to do business with us when it was under the leadership of Marco Giovanni. At one of our meetings with him, he was poisoned. His brother thought we were the ones who killed him.”
Kate sucks in an audible breath. Her voice is soft with caution. “Did you?”
My head shakes. “No. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to get revenge. A sibling for a sibling.”
One of her hands leaves mine, and I presume it’s to cover her mouth in shock. “But your mom…”
The lump in my esophagus expands. I attempt to swallow it, but my stomach can’t hold any more weight. Tears burn the corners of my eyes. Since they were together when they raided the park, he saw an opportunity and seized it.
“While we were face-to-face with him, thinking he was the threat, the real ones were taking out our men guarding my mom and my sister. The next thing we knew, the bodies of Calco Cartel soldiers and our men littered the ground.” We should’ve taken out Luciano when we had the chance, but when we heard more gunshots coming from the direction of the Ferris wheel, protecting them was our priority.
A deep breath fills my lungs. “When we realized what was going on, we rushed back to them. But it was too late. Luciano, the new don, got away, and my mom and Tayla were gone.” A tear falls, soaking into the arm of my jacket.
My hands pulse into Kate’s, searching for stability.
“The next day, a box with their hearts and photos of their murders was waiting outside the gates of the estate.”
A sob rushes out of Kate’s mouth, brushing against my neck. “Oh, Preston—”
I shake my head. “My father and I were supposed to protect them. One distraction. One moment was all it took. In the blink of an eye, they were gone, and we’ve been punishing ourselves ever since, while Luciano has been creeping in to try and claim what’s ours.”
“That’s why you brought me to the estate and wanted to watch me. That time you found me on the dock and in the tunnels. You thought I was working for him.” Her voice breaks. It’s not a question, because she knows she’s right.
Using my arm sleeve, I wipe under my eyes before peeking up at her, nodding.
She rolls those plush lips. Her breaths are shallow now, matching mine. “Oh, God. That was the biggest massacre that happened in the park five years ago? The one that the employees at Lachlan Park spread rumors about. That’s why I thought you sold organs to the black market when I met you.”
What did she call it? The Evisceration Cellar?
I’ve heard the stories, no matter how hard I’ve tried to block them out. Like with every massacre or whenever there's bloodshed, getting rid of evidence is easy, but with as many gunshots as there were, someone was bound to hear them, even if it was contained inside the park.
“Several of Luciano’s men were still alive that night when we left them to find my mom and my sister.
We tortured them in the tunnels,” I sigh.
“But they stayed true to their oath with the Calco Cartel until their last breaths.” We removed all their organs after my dad and I got the box, when it was solidified that they were never coming home.
Nothing could’ve kept those screams of agony completely contained.
I couldn’t hear them over the void of rage and depression consuming me.
My blank stare is interrupted when a hand cups my cheek. I blink away the tears, letting my eyes clash with Kate’s.
Her thumb drifts over my cheek. “It’s not your fault.
You were just dealt a fucking shitty hand,” she breathes, throwing my words back at me that I said to her the night she showed me the marks lacerating her stomach.
Her neck. “It doesn’t matter what plagues your past. What things you’ve done in your lifetime.
Nobody deserves to go through what you and your father have.
” I sink further into her warm touch, chasing the comfort.
“We may come from different pasts, Preston, but I know how hard it is to forgive yourself for something you believe you should have been able to control. Alexander Brighton’s actions weren’t my fault, but it didn’t stop me from blaming myself. ”
Swallowing, I clear my throat, my eyes darting to the side. “I don’t think I can, Kate.”
“Look at me, please,” she whispers, cupping my neck.
Reluctantly, my gaze finds hers again. “If there’s anything I’ve learned over the last month, between you training me and helping me through my fears, it’s that healing doesn’t happen overnight.
But slowly, being here with you, I’ve started.
You’ve been here with me every step of the way as I work through it, and I’m damn well going to be here for you. ”
I exhale a shaky breath. My armor, I try to keep impenetrable, has slipped away, seeping through the cracks below my feet and to the ground somewhere below.
She asked me to, and now I am.
I’m fucking breaking for her.
“Your sister and your mom’s final hours may have been tragic and painful.” A tear falls onto my cheek, and she catches it with her thumb. “But they’re probably at peace, wherever they are. And I’m willing to bet they’re watching over you, hoping you find yours.”
Kate had somehow buried below my skin the moment I saw her.
Sitting here with her now, her words and kindness thread through my nervous system so tightly I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of her.
I’m giving myself to Kate entirely, letting her implant herself so profoundly that she’s the one I know I can reach for when I’m feeling empty—a gorgeous and strong woman who started out as a stranger.
A girl who I thought had wrecked my world, but who has been the one helping me rebuild it.
Injecting light back through the cracks.
The scars she lives with call to mine.
Both of our bodies carry stories from a past we’d rather forget, but they are memories that impact how we fight moving forward.
How we connect.
How we survive.
How we love.
I’m not afraid to admit it now.
I’m in love with Kate.
I’m in love with her heart. Her kindness. The way she can find something to love in a broken and hard man like me, but smooth my edges with her softness. I’m addicted to seeing her find her power. Want to bury myself in the warmth of her smile and curl up in the heat of her touch.
I want her in ways that are impossible.
I have blood on my hands. Lives that condemn my soul.
I’m a man people would consider pitch black and heartless for the lifestyle I was born into.
But when she touches me with her caring hands, her words, parts of her soul that I know damn well she’s never shown anyone else, I fall deeper.
And in return, I’ve opened her up to the weakest parts of myself that she holds like it’s her responsibility to take some of the pain away.
I should be the villain in her story. But as she scoots closer to me and brushes those addicting lips over mine, one thing is clear. Even black can’t exist without a symphony of colors, and Kate Breanne Hannaford is one of mine.