52. Drew
Drew
I should’ve been relaxed.
I had a woman draped across my lap—one of my mistresses, dark hair, big eyes, soft mouth—someone any sane man would die to touch.
The whiskey in my glass was top-shelf.
The ocean breeze slipped through the open balcony doors.
Everything about the night was designed to soothe.
But all I could think of was her.
Kate.
Her laugh—bright, unguarded, soft enough to crack a man’s ribs from the inside.
Her music—raw emotion wrapped in fire.
Her loyalty—the kind you don’t find anymore, not in our world, not in any world.
Her power—the quiet kind that shakes kingdoms.
She’s everything a man could ever fucking want.
And Michael?
He’s on the West Coast, wrapped up in a war, leaving her here—pregnant, vulnerable, hunted.
It grates on me. Grates so hard I can taste metal in the back of my throat.
Because she chooses him.
Every time.
Even though I’m right here.
A king in my own right.
With my own empire.
My own bloodline.
My own power.
I’d put her on my throne and worship her until the day I died.
But she loves Michael Waters.
My curse is that I love her enough to step aside.
My tragedy is that I can’t seem to fucking do it.
I ease the mistress off my lap, ignoring her pout, and stand.
White collared shirt, sleeves rolled to my elbows.
Black slacks.
Gun holstered.
Tie undone.
Hair a mess from her hands.
Doesn’t matter.
I’m already gone.
Down the hall, Uncle Remi is in my sunken living room, cigar smoke curling into the dim light.
He looks up as I enter.
“I heard,” he says.
I nod once.
No point dancing around it.
“Brett’s back with Claire,” Remi adds, almost amused. “She was fun. A distraction. But I always knew I wasn’t it for her. I was just a way to piss him off.”
“You were a good detour,” I admit.
Remi laughs. “You too.”
I pour bourbon for both of us, hand him one, and take the chair opposite.
My heart is a storm.
My mind is a map full of red X’s.
“I want to clean this up,” I say quietly. “All of it.”
Remi’s eyes sharpen. “Meaning?”
“Meaning Claire gets her happy ending. And Kate gets hers.”
My jaw flexes.
“Michael can’t do it. Not from Vegas. Brett’s busy playing human shield for Kate and Claire. Which leaves… us.”
Remi sits up straighter.
“What are you thinking?”
“We take out the council,” I tell him. “And Uncle Roman. Make it look like cartel work. Or the Russians. Or the Chechens or Serbs. Anybody but us.”
Remi whistles low. “That’s… ambitious.”
“It has to be done. If we want peace. If we want this whole thing to end. If we want Kate safe. If we want… everyone to live.”
He studies me. Really studies me.
“You love her,” Remi finally says.
I swallow. Hard.
“I fell in love with her,” I admit.
“Yeah,” Remi murmurs. “I fell in love with Claire, too.”
Silence drops between us. Heavy. Honest.
I let out a sharp laugh, bitter around the edges.
“Look at us,” I say. “Two sorry-ass motherfuckers.”
We clink glasses—bourbon sloshing, the burn cutting through the ache—and drink deep.
Remi wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Your story’s coming next,” he tells me. “I can feel it.”
I shake my head.
“Maybe,” I say. “But first we clean the board. Give the girls a send off into happily ever after courtesy of us. .”
He nods.
“And no one can ever know,” I add. “Not Brett. Not Claire. Not Michael. Not Kate.”
Remi raises his glass in agreement.
“To tying up loose ends,” he says.
“To giving them their happy endings,” I answer.
“And burning every motherfucker who stands in the way.”
We drink.
And the next day begins.
Ricin is a quiet killer.
That’s why I chose it.
Not bullets.
Not blood spatter.
Not screaming.
Not chaos.
Just… silence.
A whisper of death that leaves the world cleaner, clearer, safer.
No innocent casualties.
Only the guilty.
Only the ones who deserved it.
Only the ones who put a target on Kate Waters’ back.
Kate Peters-Waters, I corrected myself silently.
She took his name.
She married him.
She’s carrying his child.
My chest had been tight for weeks — a pressure that felt like someone keeping a fist wrapped around my rib cage. Tonight, I cracked it open and let it turn to ice.
Remi leaned against the concrete pillar beside me in the underground lot, sleeves rolled, tie loose. Both of us dressed like suits coming off a late-night corporate meeting. Both of us wired to kill.
“You sure about this?” Remi asked.
I popped the trunk.
Inside, the airtight cooler held what we needed — vials, syringes, gloves.
Clean.
Untraceable.
Lethal.
“I’m done giving the feds time to ‘build a case,’” I said. “They had their chance.”
“They’re pissed,” Remi reminded me. “They wanted a spiderweb. A whole network.”
I shrugged.
“They’ll get a morgue instead.”
We moved like ghosts.
Two guards down in the parking garage — quick injections into the neck. They never saw us. Never felt it.
Two janitors poisoned through their shared coffee pot — they’d call in sick tomorrow, flu-like symptoms. They’d live.
Only the cells mattered.
Only the council.
Only the Redmonds.
Only Roman’s entire inner circle.
The jail ventilation system was laughably outdated— humidifiers on the vent line, “to keep the prisoners comfortable.”
Idiots.
They gave us a direct channel.
Remi unscrewed the grate, slid the dispersal unit inside, and adjusted the dial.
Five cells. Five targets. One dose each.
The mist hissed.
It was done.
No noise.
No alarms.
No blood.
Just the soft, almost peaceful hum of the ventilation fans.
We walked out through the night air like we’d just grabbed a midnight cappuccino.
In twelve hours, they’d all be corpses.
In twenty-four, the feds would be losing their fucking minds.
In forty-eight, Michael Waters would be the most powerful man on the Eastern seaboard, free and clear and finally able to go home.
And Kate?
Kate would be safe.
Remi blew out a breath as we crossed the empty lot.
“That’s it. That’s everything.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly.
He stopped. Looked at me. Really looked.
“You’re not staying,” he said. Not a question. A truth.
I stared out at the harbor — black water, cold wind, the faint outline of Bayview’s skyline.
Where she was.
Where she’d always be.
With him.
“I can’t stay,” I said. “I can’t watch her belly grow. I can’t watch her deliver his child. I can’t watch the two of them get the happy ending I just handed them.”
Remi nodded, slow and respectful.
“Puerto Rico?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“Aruba?”
“Possibly.”
“Monte Carlo?”
A faint smile tugged at my mouth.
“Good food there.”
He snorted.
“Somewhere with sunlight. You look like a vampire.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head.
“Anywhere but here,” I admitted. “If I stay, I’ll break something. Maybe myself. Maybe someone else.”
Remi put a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Call me when you land.”
I squeezed his forearm.
“I will.”
And I meant it.
I climbed into my car—not my flashy one, not the one Kate once complimented —but a blacked-out unmarked SUV.
Cleaner lines.
No memories attached.
As I pulled out, the city lights blurred like smeared brushstrokes on glass.
I didn’t look back.
I left Bayview in the rearview mirror — the casinos, the river, the skyline…
And the woman I would never stop loving.
One day, I’ll come back, I promised myself.
One day, when my heart isn’t bleeding anymore.
One day, when I can stand to see her happiness without wishing it was mine.
Until then?
I disappear into the night.
A ghost.
A king without a throne.
A man without a queen.
A legend waiting to be reborn.
One day.