Page 85 of Empire of Carnage
Every goddamn fucking time.
At what point would I learn and stop trusting the people around me?
32
Celia
Wounded wasn’t even close to the right word.
Ronan was hurting badly from the sudden loss of two friends he considered family. Despite my men’s justifiable anger, I lingered back in an attempt to get more information from Ethan, but didn’t find out too much that wasn’t already obvious.
He was a nepotism baby, both his parents were in the bureau which meant by the time he was a senior in high school, he knew he’d already been accepted into training and was making his way through the ranks. He’d been obsessed with human trafficking issues since he was young and decided to make it his life’s mission to save those who couldn’t save themselves.
Despite my feelings towards bootlickers and those who wore the boots themselves, he wasn’t a bad guy. But that didn’t mean he deserved Ronan or any of the guys forgiveness, even if he had given us a legal pass. It didn’t seem like he was seeking it either, that badge was the blade that cut the threads of their bond, and now there was no room left to heal the damage.
He’d go his way and we would go ours.
I sat next to Ronan in the back, opening up the cage and letting my foul-mouthed little friend climb up my arm and perch onto my shoulder. He buried himself into the nook of my neck, using my hair for warmth and comfort.
“Whore!” he shouted ten minutes into the drive, breaking the uncomfortable silence in the car and forcing a laugh from Mateo.
We all laughed, unable to hold back and pretend like the bird wasn’t able to lighten the mood.
“I’m so sorry,” I told them all, shaking my head, unsure which thing exactly I was most sorry for.
Maybe if I’d kept that vest on, Fletcher would still be alive, maybe if I hadn’t gone looking for Sokolov by myself none of this would have happened.
“Everything that was supposed to happen did. Fletcher didn’t deserve to die, but I can promise you he would have rather it been him than any other innocent person in that room. You included,” Mateo spoke.
“I’m not innocent,” I reminded him, but he just cleared his throat like he didn’t want to get into it.
I didn’t either.
They’d just suffered a monumental loss, the last thing I needed to be doing was throwing a pity party for myself over guilt.
There were very few things in this life I allowed to permeate my conscience.
Leaving Ronan was one of those things.
The deaths under my name could not be.
That was a lesson I learned long ago to ensure my own survival.
We stayed a few extra days in Cove City. It was all the time we needed to bury Fletcher and allow his family and the Crows to mourn him before we all headed back south. My sister was nowhere to be found and after a few days of paranoia and constant checking behind my shoulders, I finally concluded that she went into hiding for self-preservation.
We were doomed to repeat my papà’s fate.
Chasing each other until one of us had finally drawn our last breath.
An exhausting concept I had already long tired of.
Once we’d returned back to México my phone blew up with missed messages from Ramírez, dozens of texts and phone calls telling me it was not wise to leave the country this close to election season.
He needed to be reminded that he was working for me, not the other way around. But I was too exhausted, too burned out on death and violence to be anything but apathetic to the entire situation.
Our hacienda was waiting for us, not many lights turned on despite the fact Chiyo and a few other family-related Crows were living there as well. My heart dropped at the thought of having to explain to her what happened. Why Fletcher wasn’t with us and why he wouldn’t be coming home.
We didn’t even share a language.
