Page 124 of Freeing Denver
We amount to more power than every man in that warehouse combined, but enough hyenas can take down a lion.
Time to remind them who’s at the top of the food chain.
As we approach the warehouse, I release Denver’s hand. The large double doors are cracked open, and we step into the artificial light of the metal building. Fold-out chairs are set into acircle a good distance apart, a man in each one, their protection standing behind them.
Fifteen families, plus ours.
These people are the dark heart of the city. The unofficial rulers of New York. The reason for the heavy flow of drugs, guns, and gambling. Their ages range from mid-twenties to late seventies, but there are few women. Denver must notice the same thing, because she tsks and gives me a look.
Around the outside of the room is our protection. Lewis for Denver, Taf for me, Charlie for Alistair, JJ for Ronan. Lucas is here as Alistair’s second, and Keto is by the door, gaze zipping around the room.
The four of us head to the middle. Alistair, me, Denver, Ronan.
“This is all very dramatic,” Conor says, leaning back in his chair. Cecelia, his cousin, is seated beside him, her gaze sweeping the room.
“I fucking love it.” Dante rubs his palms together, his eyes lit up with wicked delight. “Looking good, Deluxe.”
Denver gives him a knowing smile, and he winks.
Massimo’s expression is dark. Sabina is in the chair beside his. Her arms are folded, attention fixed solely on Denver.
“Thank you for coming,” I say. “We won’t take up too much of your time, but there’s something that could only be addressed with us all here.” I slowly drag my gaze across each person, looking for any sign that this could go south. “Finn ruled this city for more than forty years. He kept it fair. He kept relationships as civil as he could. I have done the same for my family. However, I understand betrayal happens. People forget their place. It’s unavoidable. But to do so now, after my father was murdered, and someone attempted to murder me … well, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”
Ronan is waiting for the big reveal so remains quiet. Denver is Ronan’s second, so she speaks next. “There are some people in this room who have decided to take advantage, believing that we’re weak enough to allow that to happen.”
Conor barks out a laugh. “We? You’ve been a McEwan all of five minutes.”
Denver considers him. “And in that time, I’ve successfully run every business under the name. Nothing has been disrupted. The money has continued to flow. Shall we compare that to your decade as a Gallagher, or would you prefer to keep your ego intact, Conor?”
His hands tighten into fists, a blush blasting across his neck. Several men chuckle, and Conor remains quiet.
Denver continues, “As Colt said, Finn kept things peaceful. We tried to continue that. We met, or attempted to meet, with every person in this space. Some of you listened.” She looks at Massimo. “Some did not. We recognize that things are changing, alliances are shifting, and some need to be reminded of their place. Perhaps respect no longer holds the same value that fear does.” She clasps her hands together. “As of this moment, there are men situated all over the city. Men who work for us. We know who has been meeting with Massimo and Conor in an attempt to take us down, and you know who you are, too. You have the next three minutes to pledge loyalty to us, or your businesses will go up in flames, your employees murdered, and your families torn apart.” She looks at her watch. “Raise your hand when you’ve decided you’d like to continue your family lines.”
A thick, heavy silence follows Denver’s words.
It’s a bold move. Not one I’d favor. But betrayal can’t be dealt with in a meeting or forgotten with an apology. They need to be reminded who we are, and we’ll do that through choking them.
Massimo finally speaks. “You can’t fucking?—”
“I can,” Denver interjects sharply. “Wecan.”
He gapes at us. “You’re not merging.”
“Yes, we are,” Alistair says. “The Harlands are being absorbed by the McEwans.”
Ronan grins, and ripples of shock work their way through the room. The McEwans were always kings with my family not far behind, and now we’ll control almost everything.
“You’ve underestimated the people who want more,” Conor hisses, standing, his hands clenched at his sides. “Look how many of us there are. You think we can’t fight back? You think we won’t?—”
“Taf,” Denver says simply.
The bullet from Taf’s gun rips through the back of Conor’s head, blood spraying across the cement floor. He slumps to his knees, then hits the ground, a pool of red slipping across the uneven ground.
Denver steps away from the stream of blood. “Conor forgot his manners. He’s also been a thorn in my uncle’s side for quite a while. Cecelia will be taking Conor’s place.”
A person who deserves the position much more than Conor did. Cecelia eyes her cousin’s body for a moment before tutting at the spot of blood on her leg, licking her thumb and wiping it away. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
Dante cackles and leans forward in his seat to catch Alexei’s eye. “Told you tonight would be fun, didn’t I?”
