Page 14 of Knot Like Other Girls

"He's right."

We all turn to stare at him, shocked into silence. Cole rarely speaks, and when he does, it's usually in monosyllabic grunts. But now he steps forward, his eyes intense.

"We call it in," he continues. "Take the hit to our reputation. But we walk away clean."

Roman looks like he's about to explode, but Savva beats him to it. "Clean? There's nothing clean about this! We'll be lucky if we don't end up in an Italian prison!"

"Better than spending the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders," I argue. "We've done nothing wrong here. Caruso died on our watch, yeah, but it wasn't by our hand. The guy probably had enough drugs in him to down a damn bull. If they do an autopsy, they'll find that. We're bodyguards, not counselors. We were never tasked with protecting him from himself."

The silence in the room is palpable, a living thing coiled and ready to strike. For a moment, I think it might come to blows. Part of me almost hopes it does. A fight, I understand. A fight, I can handle.

But then Roman's shoulders slump, just slightly. It's barely noticeable, but to those of us who know him, it might as well be a white flag.

"Fine," he says, his voice tight with controlled anger. "We'll do it your way, Rourke. But if this goes sideways?—"

"It won't," I interrupt, more confident than I feel. "We stick together, we tell the truth. We'll get through this."

As the others start to move, preparing for the shitstorm that's about to rain down on us, I find myself looking at Caruso's body again. In death, he looks smaller somehow. Less the larger-than-life mafia don, more just... a man. A man who died alone in a strange bed, surrounded by people paid to protect him.

Is this what we've become? Glorified babysitters for rich assholes, always one step away from disaster?

The doubts from earlier come rushing back, stronger than ever. I think about that pub in Dublin again, about quiet nights and simple problems. About a life where the worst thing that might happen is a brawl. All fists, no guns. Maybe a knife if it's extra spicy.

It sounds pretty fucking good right about now.

But those are thoughts for later. Right now, we've got a mess to clean up. A big, potentially life-ruining mess.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. "Right then. Troy, you make the call to the local police. Savva, start gathering our gear. We need to be ready to move fast if this goes tits up. Cole, you're on watch. Anyone so much as looks at this place funny, you let us know."

They nod, moving to their assigned tasks with the efficiency of long practice. Roman stays behind, his eyes never leaving Caruso's body.

"You better be right about this, Liam," he says quietly. "Because if you're not..."

He doesn't finish the thought.

He doesn't need to.

I can fill in the blanks well enough on my own.

"I know," I reply, matching his tone. "I'll take full responsibility if it goes wrong."

Roman finally looks at me, his expression unreadable. "That's not how this works. We're a pack, remember? Where one goes, we all go."

He’s right about that.

We're a pack. A fucked-up, dysfunctional pack, but a pack nonetheless. And right now, that pack is in danger.

The thought sits heavy in my chest. I've never been one for introspection—leave that shit to Savva and his fancy education—but I can't shake the feeling we're at a crossroads here. That the decisions we make in the next few hours will shape the rest of our lives.

For better or worse, this is the end of one chapter and the beginning of another.

And I, for one, am ready to turn the page.

CHAPTER 6

COLE

Itake up position by the window, my eyes scanning the darkened street below. The first hints of dawn paint the sky in muted pinks and oranges, but the shadows still cling stubbornly to the corners and alleyways. It's in those shadows that danger often lurks. And I've learned the hard way never to underestimate the darkness.

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