30. Celeste Granger
CELESTE GRANGER
Inever got my massage.
After Sonnet and Vega left the treatment room, I ran to the dressing room and into one of the bathroom stalls. I sat on the toilet in the spa robe, sobbing so hard that I couldn’t breathe in enough air.
For months, I’d wondered who hated my son enough to murder him and throw him into the lake.
Donovan had been respected and loved. But he was also Roman Granger’s son, and Roman had spent decades building an organization with more enemies than I could name.
There was no reason for me not to believe that the Bellamy crew had killed Donovan to send a message.
Never once had I considered that his own father had shot him, then disposed of him without an ounce of respect.
I stayed in that dressing room so long that my security came inside to check on me, frightening the other women. I told them I’d gotten light-headed. Then I fixed my face and rode home wondering who the fuck I had been sleeping beside for twenty-five years.
Roman wasn’t a perfect husband. He was rich, powerful, and buried so deep in criminal activity that the streets sometimes received more of him than I did.
He’d cheated over the years. So, I knew the man I married was capable of terrible things.
But I hadn’t known he was capable of murdering our child.
By evening, the tears had stopped. I sat at the kitchen island in my silk robe, staring into a glass of red wine.
I felt numb. I missed Donovan with a pain that had never allowed me to rest. Now every memory of him came with the knowledge that his father had taken him away from me.
The glass patio doors opened behind me. Humid June air entered the kitchen, pushing against the air-conditioning before the doors slid shut again. Promise’s dogs rushed in first. Princess and Muffin came straight to me, pressing against my legs and pushing their large heads beneath my hands.
“Hey, babies,” I greeted them weakly.
I stroked their coats while they leaned into me. They were the only grandchildren I had so far, and I spoiled them accordingly.
Promise followed them inside, carrying her purse and talking to Roman about something that happened at the office.
She’d been spending more time at the house since Donovan was killed.
I knew she needed the presence of her parents to cope with her brother’s murder as best as she could.
But most of those visits were for me. She’d watched me fall apart and had been trying to hold together whatever remained.
Roman closed the patio doors behind him, and then approached me with his arms open.
I lifted my hand, stopping him. “Don’t touch me.”
He stopped, staring questioningly at the disdain in my eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Promise looked between us.
I turned on the stool and faced him. “Who is Sonnet Ellison?”
A small reaction crossed his face before he could hide it. His shoulders jerked. His breath caught halfway in, and his eyes moved toward Promise before returning to me. Twenty-five years with that man had taught me how to spot he was lying before he even opened his mouth.
“You son of a bitch!” I grabbed my wineglass and hurled it at him.
Roman ducked. The glass shattered against the wall behind him, sending red wine across the paint and floor.
Princess and Muffin began barking.
Promise jumped backward. “Ma, what the hell is going on?!”
His truth had caused me to hyperventilate again. I started to breathe so hard that my chest visibly rose and fell. “Tell her who Sonnet is, Roman,” I seethed.
He stared at me, blinking owlishly. “Celeste, I don’t know what somebody told you, but—”
“Tell her!” I shrieked.
“Who is Sonnet, daddy?”
I scoffed with an evil laugh. Then I told Promise, “She’s the woman who watched your father kill his son.”
Promise released a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Ma, that’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” I kept my eyes on Roman. “No wonder there wasn’t a camera in this city that caught anything that night. You killed him behind Lakefront Medical, the company you use to wash your money. I’m sure the footage from every camera on that building disappeared before the police even arrived.”
Roman’s face had lost its color.
“The Street Kings found evidence anyway,” I continued. “They found the only witness too. You hired Vega Moretti to kidnap her and bring her to you, but he knew something wasn’t right. He kept her away from you because he realized you planned to kill her.”
Promise shook her head, but her movements had become uncertain. “This can’t be true. Daddy, tell her this isn’t true.”
Roman didn’t answer.
Her voice trembled. “Daddy?”
I picked up my phone. “Vega sent me everything an hour ago.”
I opened the audio file and pressed play.
Cedric’s voice filled the kitchen first. “We still ain’t found the girl.”
Then Roman answered. “Because Vega has her. I know he does. Sonnet didn’t have the means to disappear off the face of the fucking earth.”
“We don’t know that she told him anything. As long as Sonnet Ellison is breathing, everything I built is at risk.”
Promise’s hand covered her mouth.
Cedric spoke again. “Vega ain’t handing her over.”
“Then we find both of them. Nobody can learn what happened to Donovan. It will ruin me.”
Cedric asked, “You sure killing him was the only option?”
Roman’s recorded voice came back without regret. “What the fuck does it matter now? He’s dead! Donovan was never capable of running my organization. He was impulsive, entitled, and too stupid to realize that I wasn’t giving up my throne until I was dead and buried.”
“He was still your blood.”
“He was a thief. He tried to steal this organization from under me. If he had taken control, everything would’ve fallen apart within a year.”
I ended the recording.
Promise was crying now.
“I have the location records, photographs, messages, and Sonnet’s account of what happened,” I told Roman. “She heard every word Donovan said before you shot him.”
Promise stared at her father, sobbing. “How could you do this?”
Roman’s jaw flexed, but no answer came.
“Why?!” she screamed. “Why would you kill him?!”
“He betrayed me!”
“He was your son!”
“He was disloyal!” Roman shouted. “He stole from the organization, made deals behind my back, and thought he could take what I spent my life building. If it were anyone else that wasn’t my blood, you would have told me to do the same!”
Promise flinched.
Roman pointed toward my phone. “That recording doesn’t tell you what he did. Donovan was a snake. He would’ve destroyed everything and gotten all of us killed. He wasn’t fit to lead. He was weak, careless, and too fucking arrogant to know his place!”
Promise’s grief disappeared beneath rage. The dogs felt it before anyone moved. They pressed closer to her legs, their bodies alert while their eyes remained fixed on Roman.
He took a step toward her. “Promise, listen to me.”
She backed away. “Don’t come near me.”
“I’m your father.”
“You killed my brother!”
“He forced my hand!”
Promise’s expression twisted into heartbreak and rage. Then she gave the dogs a sharp command in German. “Fass!”
They launched at Roman in a blur of fur and snapping jaws.
He barely had time to raise his arms before Princess slammed into his chest, her teeth sinking deep into his shoulder with a sickening crunch of bone.
Muffin lunged low, clamping his powerful jaws around Roman’s calf and ripping backward, tearing through muscle and tendon.
Roman crashed to the floor with a heavy thud, his screams echoing through the room as he frantically tried to shield his face.
The dogs descended on him like a whirlwind of violence.
Princess tore a jagged chunk of flesh from his neck, spraying hot, crimson blood across the floor.
Roman’s shouts turned into wet, gurgling gasps as the dogs ripped into his soft tissues, shredding his stomach and chest with savage snaps.
“Promise!” I screamed.
But she just stood there, frozen, with tears streaming down her face, watching as the dogs followed their training with lethal precision.
They ignored Roman’s weakening attempts to push them away, their claws digging deep into his skin, peeling back layers of flesh.
Muffin shifted his focus, locking onto Roman's throat and shaking his head violently from side to side, the sound of cartilage snapping and windpipes crushing filling the silence between screams.
Roman’s cries grew faint, reduced to a pathetic, bubbling whimper as blood filled his lungs. The dogs continued to feast, tearing strips of meat from his limbs and ripping into his abdomen until his insides were spilled across the cold floor.
Then, the noise stopped. The only sound left was the wet, sloppy sound of the dogs licking the blood from their jowls.