I hooked my arm around her shoulder, needing her closer. “I love you, angel.”
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she squeezed my thigh. “You better or I’ll have Cobra bite your balls off.”
I grinned. “I’ll show you how much when we get home.”
And that was exactly what I did.
Chapter Forty-Eight
PRIEST
One Year Later
My brother, Basilio, and I, along with our men, were parked a street away from Bogdan’s port in my city. After a year of bloodshed, enough was enough. We would take it back today.
I checked my weapons one last time, asking Dante, “Have you checked all surveillance? We know the position of every guard on Bogdan’s payroll?”
“Yes.”
My phone buzzed, I slid the message open and read it. It was a report on Bogdan’s movements.
“He’s out of the country,” I said. “The Serbian don.”
Basilio grinned. “Fuck, that’s perfect. This should be easy, then.”
Soon, we were out of the car, using the blind spots and cover of darkness to close the distance to the back entrance of the port. Our men trailed behind us, silent as we were. Once we reachedit, a rush of adrenaline surged in my bloodstream, my mind craving the violence and bloodshed.
It was just who I—we—were.
I waited a few seconds, then kicked the door with my foot, sending the wood crashing open and the Serbians scurrying for weapons. I killed two before they could reach for them, Dante and Basilio shot others before they could pull their guns out too.
A bullet barely missed me, and I ducked, firing in that direction. Basilio and Dante, and our men, fired at our enemy, eliminating them one by one. There was a lot of shouting, bodies falling with a thud as we made our way from room to room.
It was over quickly.
We had eliminated every single man of the enemy except for one. That one we sent running with his tail between his legs with a message.
The Syndicate took back its port. Step foot on my territory without an invitation and I’ll cut your head off.
It was simple and clear. No room for misunderstanding.
That same night we celebrated back in the very same club where I’d first touched my wife.
In the years since my innocence was stolen from me, I’d learned how to turn off dark memories and keep others at bay, knowing that if anyone tried to get physically close to me, the pain would resurface.
And even though we were a family of criminals, I understood there were some actions even criminals didn’t condone. I grew up to become a criminal like my father, ruling the Syndicate withan iron fist and turning the likes of Vittoria and Father Gabriel from perpetrators to victims.
Since ruling Philadelphia and the Syndicate, I’d killed many, but I always made sure they deserved it. And my partner in crime—my beautiful wife—stood by my side through it all.
I might sit at the head of the Philadelphia Syndicate, but my wife was my anchor. My strength. Without her, I didn’t know what living was, and with her… Fuck, with her, our lives were thriving.
Since I was a boy, I craved a happy home but never actually understood what it meant until Ivy. There was something to be said about having a home filled with love and laughter and seeing the world through your woman’s eyes.
To say that I was completely recovered would be a lie. Ghosts still lurked, but with the work I’d done to keep them at bay, they were few and far between.
Ivy and the girls were camped at the bar so they could “plan world domination” with their new project they’d been working on with money they’d stolen. Personally, I thought they were secretly planning how to gang up on their husbands in the future.
I joined my brother by the wall of windows that looked out to the dance floor and bar area where he stood with a pensive expression.