Chapter 30
DAMIAN
The drive to the city is quiet. A pit in my stomach grows bigger with each extra mile we put between Celine and us. I grip the steering wheel, twisting my hands around it. My teeth are gritted, fixed like that. Like I’ve got rigor mortis already.
“Your FBI guy won’t come in on this?”
“He’s got his hands full with the women and girls we already rescued,” I grunt. “He can’t sanction an operation like this… especially as Mario could be leading us down shit’s creek.”
Julian sighs. “This could be the last time we ever see this skyline.”
I look up at the city, buildings scraping the sky, the air icy and blue. The snow has stopped, but it’s cold, so it hasn’t begun to melt. Everything sparkles like the inside of a snow globe. All I can think of is that Celine would love this view.
“You made things easier for her back there,” Julian mutters. “Building that snowman–taking her mind off this.”
“She makes life easier for me too,” I tell him. “Makes me feel like a human. Like I don’t have to be so damn miserable all the time.”
“When I was watching you two, I was thinking… I could do this alone.”
“No,” I say flatly.
“You could turn around and stay in the safe house with her. Be there for her.”
“This job has a higher chance of success with me involved,” I growl.
“Shit. Well–yeah. No one is arguing that.”
“So, I’m coming,” I snap.
He sighs. “I think she loves you.”
“What?” I growl.
“When she gave the snowman that big old frown…” His voice grows wistful. “She looked at you like her world finally made sense. Like she could finally just let go.”
“We need to focus,” I say.
He’s choking me up. That’s not good for a job.
I feel the same. With her, everything makes sense.
His tone hardens. “You’re right.”
Mario meets us at the edge of the docks, the city watching us from the other side of the river. He’s a tall man, a thick head of black hair, wearing a denim jacket and dark jeans. He strolls over to our car and gestures for us to roll the window down.
So far, so good. If this were an ambush, the shooting would’ve started already.
“Mario,” I say, nodding.
“Look who’s back from the dead,” he says with a smirk.
“Seems fitting considering how biblical this shit is going to get.”
“Need to warn you fellas, there’s about twenty men waiting for us at the meeting spot.”
I grind my teeth. “Twenty goddamn men? They should’ve brought more.” I turn to Julian. “You ready for a fight?”
Julian looks at me oddly.
I turn back to Mario to see what I’m missing. He’s staring at me with a look of… awe on his face.
“What?” I snap.
“They’re here for you, Beast, because they respect you more than they respect the Don. They all think this shit is sick. We didn’t get into the life for this.”
This hits me hard. I always thought I was a loner.
“Guess you’ve got more friends than you realized,” Julian says.
I laugh grimly. “Seems that way.”
I drive into the meeting spot: a rundown bar that used to cater to dock workers. My hand ready to draw my gun. The bulletproof vest rests heavily on my body.
When I go inside, I see pistols lined up on a long table. The men sit on the other side of the room, with their hands on the table.
Mario lowers his voice. “They wanted you to know they’re not looking to fight you, Damian.”
I walk to the front of the room, studying the surrounding faces. Some I might’ve expected, and others I wouldn’t have.
“We’re doing this because it’s the right thing,” I snarl. “Because Salvatore has gone too far. We don’t deal in flesh. But before we get started, hear this, know this… if any of you are rats, if any of you are secretly working for that glorified pimp, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?”
They’re not men anymore. They stare at me like terrified children.
“I said, do you fucking understand?”
The men say yes in chorus.
They stand and look at me in a way I don’t like much. Like they’re expecting me to be their new boss. As if they’ve been waiting for someone else to take the lead for a long time.
I’ve never had aspirations to be a leader. But if it means keeping this filth out of this city, what other choice do I have?