Page 82 of Mob Boss's Second Chance

My mouth curls with a promise of what’s to come. “I’ll be seeing you, cousin,” I say.

As I make a turn, I see it. The glint of a gun, his hand reaching for it. Anthony’s quick draw is slow motion for me, and I reach out before he pulls it clean, knocking the force from his elbow.

He yelps loudly, but my other hand is reaching his neck, pushing him to the wall, and pinning him there. Behind me, I hear the sound of safety coming off. The guns are pointed at me, but Idarethem to shoot.

“You betrayed your blood.” I dig my glare into his eyes, seeking out his cowardice. He claws at my hand, a desperate and useless attempt to free himself. “You sold your family out because you wanted to claim something that you could never control. You’re a disgrace, Anthony,” I spit as I watch the color drain from his face and the fight in him leave.

“And youdaredto threaten the woman I love. You wanted to hurt her. God,” I exhale, my shoulders shaking with rage. “I would’ve dug your eyes out and secreted your limbs if you’d touched a hair on Natalie’s head.”

I should end him for that alone.

His hands go limp on both sides, leaving nothing but a shriveled, spinelessbastardwith bulging eyes. When I let go, his body drops to the floor with a thud.

I tower above him, and my mouth flattens in disgust. “You should be happy I’m not putting a bullet through your head right here and now because I’d very much like to be permanently rid of you.”

Anthony tries to stand up, but he crumples to the ground again. “However,” I continue, “I’ll let the same people you connived with take care of what you’ve become. When they find out that I’ve abandoned you, they’ll come for you. I’m sure you’ve pissed off enough people that someone out there has a bullet with your name engraved.”

As for the men… they lower their guns slowly. I don’t bother addressing them—they were never more than meat on bones, carrying out grunt work—as I stride across the living room, heading for the door. My shoulders rise and stiffen as I think about the damage to be undone.

Getting Anthony out of the way is just the tip of the iceberg.

Who knows what he’s done? The secrets he’s spilled in the name of unholy alliance? If he’s told them enough to bring the Cross empire down, it’s my burden to build another fortress.

As soon as possible.

But not without a parting message.

I pause.

“And Anthony—” my words are measured and deliberate as I speak, “if you’re thinking of gaining sympathy from people who once tried to bring this family down, offering them a cut or share in what you’ll get once I’m rid of, then let me tell you—” I turn slowly, intending to finish my statement with direct eye contact, when I see it.

He lunges—grabbing the gun of the man standing beside him and pointing it at me. I draw mine a second quicker, and bullets whizz through the air, meeting flesh and passing through bone.

***

“The morgue,” I say coarsely when Leonard steps out of the apartment an hour later, his face riddled with questions. “Find a plot away from everything. He does not deserve a proper burial. Also, keep a handle on the gossip. I don’t want the press to know who died here. Or that anybody died at all.”

If my cousin had died defending his family, I would’ve buried him on the private plot where his father and mine lie.

He died a traitor to the Cross. The worst kind of scumbag a person can be. The moment he reached for the gun—concluding that I was to die—he stopped being family.

When I saw the light leave his eyes… before he dropped to the ground a final time, I had no remorse. He forced my hand, and I played my part.

“Yes, sir.” Leonard nods vigorously, his voice sharp and ripe with obedience. I know he’s worried that he’ll meet the same fate as Anthony did, but I don’t intend to kill him.

Mercy?No.

But he’ll earn his life. One way or another.

I push away from the railings that lead down the stairs, my car keys dangling from my fingers. There’s a bloodstain on my shirt—the spot where his bullet nicked me. They tell the story of what happened inside the apartment.

I intend to burn the shirt until only ashes remain.

Leonard will do a good job of keeping leaked information vague. The men in the apartment will conform out of fear to save their lives.

And in the cover of the unknown, I will take down everybody who joined hands with Anthony. By the time morning comes, Philadelphia will be washed clean.

Yet, even as I slide behind the wheel, the image creeps in—of a brown-haired woman with a smile as warm as a burning fireplace and a chin set with unwavering stubbornness.

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