Page 62 of Pocketful of Us

I tensed. "I'm listening."

"I will fight you right here and now, and the winner will be named the rightful leader ofCosa Nostra," he declared. "Or I will give you one week to take my sister and vanish. After that, I will come looking for you, and I will never stop."

"Or how about I pick option two and you forget that we ever existed," I offered, heart leaping wildly in my chest at the prospect of getting out of this room in one piece.

"Option two works for me," he agreed. "ButCosa Nostrawould never forget that a Toretto still lives and is the rightful head of the family. Which, unfortunately, makes you, not to mention any and all of the children that my sister bears for you, my number one enemy."

"I don’t want it, Seth," I told him honestly. "Cosa Nostra? The mob?" I shook my head. "I don’t want any of that shit."

"You might," he hedged. "In time."

"I won't," I refuted. "Not ever." I didn’t want to join a damn mob. I had no intention of doing anyone's dirty work for them. I had one goal in life. One dream. "I only want your sister," I told him. "As far as I'm concerned, the rest of y'all can go to hell."

"Tact," Presley muttered, standing up. "Please try a little tact, buddy."

"I don’t have tact," I shot back, keeping my eyes on Seth. "I am what I am."

"Yes," Seth mused thoughtfully. "You are Giacobbe Toretto, heir ofCosa Nostra, the strongest family of them all, one hell of an opponent, and my biggest threat."

"No," I replied. "My name is Sketch Capaldi and she is my family." I reached for Romi's hand. "I'll take option two, Seth. I'll disappear." I blew out a breath before adding, "But I want your word that you won't hurt him." I inclined my head towards Presley. "Give me your word that he's safe and I'll walk away from it all."

"You have it," he replied, brows furrowing.

I exhaled heavily and offered him a clipped nod. "Then this is goodbye, Seth."

"One week, Giacobbe," he called after me when we turned towards the door. "The clock is ticking."

"Don’t worry." I squeezed Romi's hand tightly in mine. "You'll never see us again."

28

Romi

"Will I ever see you guys again?" Pres asked as he sat motionless in the driver's seat waiting on Sketch, who had gone inside the bus station to get our tickets.

"Maybe?" I offered, loathing the lie.

Quinton Presley was our best friend.

He had saved my life.

He had saved Sketch's life.

He had saved the life of our unborn child.

He was the reason we were both here, and I was telling him goodbye for what I knew in my heart would be the final time. There would be no returning to Pocketful.

"I’m going to miss you, Pres," I offered, knowing it wasn't nearly enough, but all I could say in this moment. Shuffling forward, I wrapped my arms around his chest, hugging him awkwardly from my perch in the backseat.

"Not as much as I'm going to miss y'all," Pres replied gruffly.

Moments later, Sketch returned to the car. Swinging my door open, he helped me out before grabbing our lone duffel bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder. Taking my hand in his, he offered me a reassuring squeeze before finally addressing our friend. "So, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Yep." Pres sniffled, wiping his glasses. "Guess so."

"Yeah." Sketch blew out a pained breath. "So, I guess I was wrong, huh?"

"Well, you usually are," Pres choked out, unable to contain his emotions now.

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