“Motherfucker!” Dom explodes, flipping a tray of ink over as he glares at me.
I can’t help my grin. “You’re going to have to work harder to stay one step ahead of me, brother. You’re not quite there yet.” I glance between them, my gaze lingering for a few seconds on each of them. “And this is all speculation. Just do your job, keep your head in the game, and don’t fuck up.”
The gin begins to warm me, the light buzz lifting my lips as they eye each other. “Have a damn drink and stop sulking like I just told you Santa isn’t real.”
“He’s not?” Sean quips, but the delivery is lackluster, and no one laughs.
I decide not to coddle them. Those days are long over.
“I trust you,” I say emphatically, and all three of them snap their downcast eyes to me. I know that declaration is just as important to them as it is to me. “So, don’t let me down.” I lift my chin toward the two inkers in wait, and they stomp out their cigarettes before making their way back inside. I don’t spare a glance at the three of them as I take my place on the table. Tonight is about celebration, and I’m not going to let their fear ruin the faith I have in them. Nothing but exhilaration courses through me as the gun buzzes to life, and I feel the first prick of the needles in my skin.
Minutes later, the music’s turned up, the mood lifting as they pass the bottle, and we resume our celebration.
We finish the last of it huddled around the fire, piss drunk, with the future buzzing heavily between us. I gaze on at each of them as the familiar inkling comes over me. It strikes hard, the hairs on the back of my neck lifting despite my drunken state, and with its arrival comes the knowledge we are exactly where we’re supposed to be. It’s time to make our first move.
It’s been a long fucking time coming.
But for the first time in years, surrounded by my brothers, I embrace the present. When the chatter starts to die out, and they begin to pass out one by one, I shift my gaze up at the night sky, the image of the flock that inspired me comes to mind. Though pitch dark, I can see them so clearly, just as the pieces start to move on their own. Turning toward the newly built mansion, I see a single light on in the house and briefly wonder what kind of thoughts keep a man like Roman Horner up at night. Soon, I won’t have to wonder. Piece by piece, I’ll steal chunks of his kingdom from beneath him until it starts to crumble around him. And then, and only then, will I reveal myself as the thief responsible.
“I’m coming for you, motherfucker,” I whisper vehemently, tossing another log onto the fire just as the lone light clicks off.
My head splinters as the recollection of that night fades, and the heavy pulse of fresh hell sets in. Prying one eye open, I see Cecelia sleeping soundly next to me and wince through the invasion of morning light. Beau’s nails click on the hardwood announcing his entrance into the bedroom, and he nudges the hand I have hanging over the lip of the mattress, beckoning his new bitch to escort him out for his morning leak. Moving far too quickly, my body reacts, my head screaming obscenities as I usher him out of the room and through the back door to relieve himself. Shivering in the onslaught of cold, I’m slapped awake by one thought.
One step ahead, Tobias.
Alarm shoots up my spine as I rush inside and gather both phones before heading into the bathroom to check them for missed texts.
Russell: New birds in the nest.
The text was sent at eight o’clock last night. I feel slight relief knowing we’re covered with Tyler’s trained birds, especially since I wasn’t of sound mind. For me, blind trust is damn near hard to come by, but over the years, I’ve tried my best to return it. Still, with so much to lose and flying blind, I’m in the worst imaginable position. I’m no longer in control or calling the shots, nor am I aware of every move being made on the daily, and it’s nearly fucking impossible for me to deal with that day by day. Blind trust is what I have to continue to give so I can navigate my way with Cecelia. But now? I’m not so sure I’m capable. Especially if Antoine’s planning on making a move. I’m just not sure of what his motive would be or what his intentions are, other than to keep tabs on me. But if he took the time to send someone—in lieu of a fucking phone call—chances are something’s brewing.