Page 99 of City of Wind and Lies

The leather of the sofa creaks beneath me as I shift, pulling my phone from my pocket and kicking an ankle up to rest on my knee.

Rocco

Everything's all set. See you at Ma's?

I go to respond to Rocco's text when a familiar face flashes on the TV, catching my attention.

"Can you turn that up? " I ask the receptionist.

She nods, grabbing the remote and increasing the volume.

"...Gabriel Belluci, CEO of Archangel Enterprises, was believed to have been distributing the tainted cocaine that was responsible for more than three dozen fentanyl overdoses. Last month, Belluci was found deceased behind the wheel in what police are labeling a suicide. Chicago Native, Trey Davis was found in the trunk of Belluci's sedan with a fatal gunshot wound. According to the coroner's report, Belluci shot and killed Davis and then crashed his 2023 Lexus LS into the abandoned Angler's Ale warehouse in Canaryville. While the motives behind Davis' murder are unclear, police are continuing their investigations into Archangel Enterprises and its associates. Police Superintendent Gary Douglas commends the men and women of the CPD for their efforts in the-"

"It's a shame the police didn't get to punish that man for what he did," the receptionist says, shaking her head as she lowers the volume.

"Yeah," I scoff. "A real shame."

I shoot off a response to Rocco, thanking him for helping with the last bit of Wren's surprise. It's been six weeks since Belluci made his final grab for power, and even though I smashed his skull in, some days I'd like to bring him back from the dead just to give him a more painful end. I used his death, among others, to set an example in the outfit. Those that had their doubts fell on their swords at my feet. And those that followed Belluci, well… they met a similar end as their pathetic leader. That, along with the news of Wren's pregnancy, quickly silenced all chatter about my capabilities to lead. Even my old man backed off, taking a step back from the outfit and taking Ma away on the cruise she’s always wanted to go on. I never thought I’d see the day Sal Sorrentino traded his tailored suits for chino’s and a polo, but I guess a brush with death will do that for you.

When O’Ryan’s name lit up my phone that night and I heard my dads voice telling me that he and Ma were okay, I felt like I could finally draw my first deep breath since I stepped on the plane from New York. Then again, I suppose I should’ve known it’d take more than a poorly constructed bomb to take my old man out. The lucky bastard should really go to Vegas rather than on a Mediterranean cruise.

"Thanks, Doctor Parsons. Have a good Thanksgiving!" Wren's voice calls out over her shoulder as she steps into the hall, her maroon cardigan slouching off one shoulder. The slope of her stomach is visible where the white crop top ends and her high-waisted leggings begin.

She turns, full lips curling up into a smile as she spots me on the couch and crosses the room. "Ready?" she asks, running a hand through her blonde waves.

With a nod, I push to my feet and swallow down the guilt that creeps its way up my throat as my eyes zero in on the pale pink scar on her cheek.

I'll never forget the way time seemed to slow down as I carried her limp body into the emergency room that night. Watching helplessly from the hall as the doctors and nurses rushed around, hooking her up to machines and assessing her. She had a fracture running through her cheek and jawbone all the way to her eye socket- no doubt from being pistol-whipped- and had to have surgery to correct it. My chest practically cracked open when the doctor told me that putting Wren under anesthesia posed a risk to the baby and the chances of her miscarrying were high. I’ve never known a more difficult decision to make than in that moment.

The procedure went quicker than they expected. There wasn't any muscle or nerve damage, which was good in itself, but it also meant she wasn't under anesthesia as long. The weight of everything that happened set heavy on my chest, and when the obstetrician gave us the all-clear, the last brick was lifted away.

I'm painfully aware that I could've lost them both that night. My lifestyle isn't one that's earned me a bank of good karma or cosmic favors. I didn't make an empty promise in a desperate prayer to change my ways, but still, somehow the universe gave me mercy I didn't deserve.

"How was your first session?" I ask, lacing my fingers with hers as we step onto the elevator.

"Good," she breathes. "Way different than the online chats. Saying it out loud was a lot harder than I thought, but I feel this weird sense of relief just putting it all out there."

Giving her hand a squeeze, I tilt my head towards her. "I'm proud of you, and you know I'm here for you. I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me about something."

"I know," her voice wobbles with her response. "Doctor Parsons said that at some point it'll be good to include you in the session too. We both got hurt that night. Trauma isn't just superficial, just because your pain isn't visible doesn't make it less real."

"Very true," I manage, my heart constricting at her words as I drop a kiss to the top of her head.

Wren's been so strong since Belluci kidnapped and tried to rape her. She didn't want to talk about it at first, and I respected her, never pushing her, just laying there beside her in the hospital and silently supporting her. The first night we came home, she initiated sex immediately, and when I hesitated, she broke down in tears. She honestly thought that I didn't want her anymore because some piece of trash forced himself on her.

That was the farthest thing from the truth. There isn't a thing in the world that could change how much I love her. We stayed up that night. She told me what she could, but mostly I just held her while she cried. When the tears finally stopped and she asked me again, I didn't hesitate. Even though I know Wren loves the rough and wild sex we have, that night, I made love to her. I took out my piercings, moving with languid, sensual strokes as I held her in my arms, telling her everything I love about her as I begged her soul to let me bear her pain.

She seemed better after that, her feisty personality that never fails to put me in my place rearing its head the next day. Things seemed fine for a while, but then a couple of weeks ago, the nightmares started. She'd wake up in the middle of the night crying, camisole soaked in sweat. I'd like to take credit for being the one who got her to go to therapy, but that was all Drea. Dallas didn't take kindly to me beating down his door at two a.m., but Drea was upstairs in ten seconds flat. Wren wasn't sure at first, but after a few online sessions, she was ready for the next step.

The elevator dings, pulling me back from my thoughts as we reach the parking garage. The doors slide open and my hand moves to the small of her back as we make our way to the car. The BMW chirps as I unlock it, stepping around to open the passenger door for her. My hand trails across the swell of her stomach, lingering on her bump before clicking her seatbelt into place.

Cazzo. I adjust my thickening dick as I slide into the driver seat and put the car in drive. The thought of her carrying my kid still elicits something primal in me. And even though my pride and happiness grow each day along with her belly, I can't fucking wait for her to have this kid so I can knock her up again.

"Where are we going?" Wren asks as I turn in the opposite direction of the Monarch building.

"It's a surprise," I say with a chuckle.

"Surprise for what?"

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