Page 25 of Midnight Wedding

I spent the night pacing around thinking about what to do with Lena, but didn’t come up with any good options.

“You know I gotta ask,” Tigran says, watching the road as he drives. “But the girl?”

“I took care of her.” Which is technically true. I gave her water and crackers, and I put a blanket around her.

“Then we’re good?”

“We’re good.” It doesn’t feel right, lying to my brother, but there’s no way around it. If he knew Lena was still alive, he’dturn this car around, head over to her apartment, and end her life.

Tigran’s a good man. He cares about the Brotherhood as much as I do. But he’s sometimes too loyal and too strict. There are no shades of gray with him, only what’s right and what’s wrong, and his moral compass always knows the right way to aim.

In his mind, Lena’s a loose end, and our position is too precarious to fuck around.

Is that what I’m doing?Fucking around?

“Then we have something to celebrate.” He lifts his coffee. “To a successful hit, the end of a war, and the future of the Brotherhood. To a brother coming into his own and the future of our family. To strength, honor, life?—”

“Tigran,” I grumble at him. Leave it to an Armenian to take a toast too far.

He grins at me. “Cheers, brother.”

We touch our coffee cups together and I take a sip.

Tigran rolls his car into Greektown, a little neighborhood in the eastern part of the city. He parks in front of a greasy diner with blue trim around the outside and peeling decals in the windows. The place is crowded, though, and we’re greeted with a blast of hot air when we step inside and the crush of people eating, laughing, and waiting to be seated.

The waitress knows me and nods with her head toward the booth in the back. It’s already occupied and I steel myself as I head over. I’ve been dreading this meeting since Saro’s death, but it’s the next step toward finishing things and driving the Brotherhood into further prosperity.

Uncle Garen stands. He’s a stocky man with thin black hair, a cropped beard, and a smile like a salesman. He claps me in a tight hug and slaps my back even though a few weeks ago he would’ve happily shot me in the head. Aunt Sona’s a bit more standoffish; she doesn’t get to her feet, only nods at me with a tight frown. She and my father were close back before things went bad, and she hasn’t forgiven me for the part I played in his overthrow.

“Sit, sit,” Uncle Garen says. Tigran slides into the booth and leaves me on the outside. I scan the place and notice a few guys I know, some from my side of the family and some from Garen’s. They’re eyeing each other with barely restrained animosity. “I assume everything went well?”

“As well as it could,” Tigran says.

“You are good at killing family, aren’t you, Arsen?” Aunt Sona’s glare is pure icy loathing. “I never for a second thought you’d fail.”

“I do what I have to.” I stare right back. Give her an inch and she’ll claw my fucking eyes out. The only way to handle her is with strength. “As you’ve found out.”

Her lips curl into an angry sneer. “We’ve fought you to a standstill.”

“Only because Saro’s been making trouble. With him gone, I wonder why I need this meeting at all?”

“Easy, everyone,” Uncle Garen warns, sounding amiable. He puts a hand on his wife’s arm. “We’ve discussed this already.”

She sits back with a frustrated breath and turns her chin. “You know my feelings on the matter.”

“Why don’t you go sit at the counter while we finish things here?”

That woman fucking hates me. She slips away with one backward stare filled with pure vitriol. I’m going to have to watch my back until the day that she dies—I can’t imagine she’ll ever get over this.

Which is a shame. I loved Aunt Sona once. She used to give me twenty bucks every time I saw her, which was basically every day. I grew up with her around the house, and now she looks at me like I’m a monster.

Like my father didn’t deserve what he got.

“Excuse Sona. She’s still grieving your father.” Uncle Garen relaxes slightly. If Sona’s the brains of their partnership, he’s the charm and the violence. Even though his smile is easygoing and disarming, I’ve seen Uncle Garen’s vicious side. That man is a bear and a lion, and he doesn’t hesitate.

There’s a reason the family’s split between following me and staying with him.

“The job’s done,” I tell him flatly. “Saro’s not a problem anymore.”

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