Page 93 of Sunrise Malice

The four of us set out at a slow pace. Simon takes the lead, strolling along. I’m on his right, and Ronan’s on his left. Marco brings up the rear.

“Your grandfather is an interesting man, Julien,” Simon says, glancing at me sideways. “You should hear the stories he’s been telling me about his life back in France. He’s quite the character.”

“I’m sure he’s charming when he’s not busy stabbing you in the back,” I say, struggling not to sound too bitter, and failing miserably.

“He’s telling me other stories too. Like how you instigated a war with Dusan Petrovic by killing his cousin. How you’ve been aggressively accumulating more and more power for yourself. How you tried to kill him.”

“Pascal Moreau will tell you anything to make you do what he wants.”

Simon nods, not looking at me. His gaze is sharp and heavy. “But how much of that is true?”

My hands curl into fists. I hate that I’m here right now dealing with this man. For a long time, I saw the Biancos as my enemies, or at least as an obstacle to doing good business. It’s worse for Ronan—he married the daughter of the Bianco Famiglia’s greatest enemy.

And yet here we are, three heads of three strong crime families, walking along an idyllic little park while kids scream and shout on the slides, all because otherwise the city might decay into fucking chaos.

“I tried to kill him,” I confirm. “But the rest is bullshit.”

“That’s what I thought.” Simon sounds thoughtful rather than angry. “Your grandfather is very convincing, but I have people looking into the situation, and from what I can tell, he’s been at the heart of everything.” Simon stops walking and stands gazing out across a field that ends nestled against a small lake. A fountain sprays water in the center; soon, the city will turn it off, as the winter comes and freezes this all over. “All I want is the space to do good business without worrying about the city tearing itself into pieces. There has been too much violence for my tastes lately.”

“I won’t make excuses. This has been about survival.” I stand beside Simon, my shoulders back, refusing to be cowed.

“Here’s what I’m willing to offer.” Simon glances at Ronan to make sure he’s listening. “I will make the Moreau family a vassal of the Bianco Famiglia. The Hayes Group may continue to operate as normal, but we will hammer out a truce between our organizations to make sure the lines are clear. Once all that issettled, I will handle Dusan Petrovic and I will send Pascal back to France where he belongs.”

I stare at the Don. His words reverberate in my head.Vassal of the Bianco Famiglia. That would effectively end my business as I’ve always known it and make me a client to the Biancos. I’d answer to them, have to run my plans past them, and be forced to do what they fucking ask. I’d be their goddamn lap dog.

The idea is too repulsive, I can barely keep myself from cursing at the bastard.

“That’s not acceptable,” I manage to say, barely keeping my cool. I’m surrounded by Bianco soldiers right now, and one wrong move will get me killed.

But the goddamn arrogance of this man.

Simon doesn’t seem remotely surprised by my refusal. “Then I can’t help you.”

The piece of shit. He dragged us out here only to offer a deal he knew I’d never accept. Becoming his vassal would be the same as cutting my own throat. Hell, dying would be better.

I spent my life working for other people. At first, I struggled to survive on the street, and then I clawed and fought under Pascal’s painfully exacting tutelage, only to end up one of his glorified soldiers. The whole reason I came to America was to build something for myself.

That’s what I’ve been fighting so hard for. This gang, this city, this fucking country ismine, and if I agree to be a vassal of the Biancos, I might as well be nothing at all.

“There has to be some other way,” Ronan says, playing peacemaker. “You can’t really think he’d agree to that.”

Simon’s smile is tense, but not unfriendly. “The problem is, you’re asking a lot and offering very little. My main concern is the city’s stability, and I think if we worked more closely together, we could create a good environment for everyone.”

“You mean, if I agree to be your fucking employee?” I know I’m pushing it, but I can’t help myself.

“It wouldn’t be so bad. We have resources and access. You’d be safer, overall, for only a very reasonable cut.”

“No, thanks. I’d rather let Dusan shoot me in the face.”

Simon laughs and turns away. “I don’t blame you, honestly. I’d probably react the same way if someone made me that offer.”

“We appreciate your time then,” Ronan says, giving me a hard look.

I say nothing, because fuck him.

“It’s a shame, really, that we couldn’t come to better terms. But I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising. Your grandfather Pascal is just as stubborn. He didn’t want to stay in the oasis, and instead preferred one of our safe houses. The penthouse apartment in the Carter Building. I’m sure he’s happy there.” Simon walks off, swaggering slightly.

“Well, that was interesting,” Marco says and gives us a nod. “Good luck.” He follows Simon away, and I’m left standing alone with Ronan, totally stunned as I try to process what just happened.

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