Page 4 of Chaos Kills

“If I bring her sisters back, I’ll already have a win.”

“Bring them back where?”

“I can get her a house. That’s two things.”

He shakes his head. “She’ll never accept them.”

“She’ll have to.” Because without a place, her sisters will have nowhere to go. “And her father?—”

“I’mher father, Ozzy,” Emilio seethes, clutching his glass until his knuckles turn white. “She was taken?—”

“Not yet,” I retort flatly. None of that scares me more than her. “She doesn’t consider you anything but the man who turned in Penn Northcott and terrorized South Shore.”

Emilio scoffs under his breath, drawing his drink back to his lips. “She’s a smart one, that girl.”

She is.

That’s why she’ll never become his.

I watch Emilio take another sip of his alcohol while he mulls over the decision to give me his only heir. It’s all going to come down to who he can control more, me or Ramsey.

And on cue, his oldest son strides into the room like the serpent he is.

“Dad, I got that contract you—” He stops when he sees me. I don’t have to turn for the door to know that his distaste for me—no, his intimidation of me—is imminent. “Ah, what is the little freak doing here?”

Emilio flashes him ashut the fuck uplook, but doesn’t answer the question. “Does it have the signatures?”

“All three of them.” Ramsey appears at my side and slaps the thick stack of papers in front of his father. “We’ll work on the others. There are two or three more companies that function out of that port. I think with the right motivation, we’ll be able?—”

“There are six,” I cut in monotonously because they’re talking about threatening South Shore’s founding families, who hold ports, to work for them and not Levi Wallace.

“Six?” Emilio repeats through knitted eyebrows, then glances over at Ramsey. “I thought you said there were four?”

“There are,” he sneers back, steering his heated gaze to me for opening my mouth in their conversation. “What does he fucking know?”

“Everything,” Emilio inserts without a second of hesitation. He sighs, as though he knows what I said is what’s best for Bay but doesn’t want to do it.

In a perfect world, his stepson, the one he raised in his own image, would marry his blood. Together, they would rule over The Landings.

Except they’re a few screws loose with Ramsey. More than me and way more than Bay will ever accept or deal with.

“Why doesn’t my son know there are six dealers within South Shore’s port system, Ozzy?”

I stare back at my uncle's unflawed curiosity. “I said I kill people. I’m not a mind reader.”

He chuckles, a rich and deep rumble from his chest that he emits when I’ve done or said a thing that pleases him. “Fair enough. I’ll think about what you said.”

“And what was that?” Ramsey snarks, stepping up to me and standing in the way of me and his dad. “What are you doing around here, mental case? Aren’t you supposed to be still locked up for attempted murder?”

“Murder,” I correct him, focusing on a silver paperweight on Emilio’s desk. “He died.”

“In the hospital.”

“But he still died.”

Ramsey scoffs as if that’s not impressive. “You’re supposed to slaughter and watch the light die out from their eyes, not pray for the best while you walk away.”

“He was fifteen,” Emilio chimes in for me, as if I need to be protected from Ramsey’s bullying. “And he was poppin’ caps in people’s asses while you were out stabbing dogs.”

---