Page 50 of The Fox

“He sent a message through Denaro. Something about how unfortunate it was that you were recovering.”

My blood boils as the hairs on my hair stand on end. No one outside our inner circle knew that I was injured. My men were used to my involvement being as needed. For many of them, I was simply a name, a signature on their checks at the end of the week. My eyes lock with Duncan’s.

“Did we ever recover traffic camera footage of the night I was ambushed?” The look on Duncan’s face gives me the answer. “Did Denaro say if Medina mentioned anything else, Duncan?” I pin him with my stare, feeling my jaw set in frustration.

“Ames.”

I hold a hand up, silencing him.

“Did. Medina. Say. Anything. Else.” I question him, the words coming out harshly, but I don’t care. Duncan Russo fidgets under my glare, and I wait. He may be married to my best friend but at the end of the day? Duncan Russo is just another man on my payroll. He answers to me.

“Denaro said that Medina seemed smug about it, like he was almost giddy that you were injured. Mentioned something about the tragedies of it all.” He pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The Families want a meeting.”

Un-fucking-believable.

I straighten my shoulders, inhaling deeply. I run my tongue along my molars before speaking. And then I drop my voice deeper, settling into a role I’ve never played with the man before me. My fingers itch, wanting to curl around the handle of my blade on the desk.

“You didn’t think you should have told me?” I look down at my nails, examining the ripped cuticles. “You could have called me. Texted me. Hell, you could have had Parker break the news.”

Shame covers his face. I don’t care. There is no excuse for Duncan keeping this from me. I cannot excuse it.

“I should have called,” he sputters, my simmering rage evident from where he sits.

I erupt.

“YES YOU FUCKING SHOULD HAVE! Gods-fucking-dammit, Duncan. I am your MOTHERFUCKING DON.” I push to my feet, slamming my palms on my desk. “You are my employee. You report tome.”

“Ames.” I am angry. No. I am furious.

“You do not get to call me ‘Ames’ right now, Duncan,” I seethe. He moves to stand, and I cock my head.

“You’re right, I should have told you. But I wanted you to recover and not worry about the business.”

“DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT I HAD TO ENDURE THAT GODSFORSAKEN NIGHT?!”

My demons start to slip in through the cracks as I lose the composure I’ve clutched to.I just want them off. The water. The water wasn’t hot enough. I need it to be hotter. I need to be clean.

“YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN JUST ABOUT ANYONE WHAT I HAVE FUCKING GIVEN UP TO MAKE SURE THIS FAMILY SURVIVES.”

I watch Duncan blanch at my words. I know it is a low blow but I will not apologize for it. I have not given the Mafia every piece of my broken soul just to have it ripped from my clutches by a fool of a man.

“Why do the other Dons want a meeting?” My voice is lethal, a silent dare for Duncan to hide information from me again.

“They want to ensure you are still able to lead the Family.”

Motherfuckers.

“Set the meeting. Get the fuck out of here.”

He stands, taking a small step my way, his hand out.

“Don’t.” I spin, dismissing him. I keep my eyes focused on the photograph of my father sitting on a shelf as the door clicks.

Two seconds later, I lose it.

Gods-fucking-dammit.

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