Page 88 of The Shadow King's Brother

A beat of silence. No one answers.

Then Gio exhales through his nose, arms crossed. “He’s coming soon.”

Something flickers in Elio’s expression—concern, maybe. But he doesn’t say anything.

I’m probably imagining it in my haze. Maybe he’s drinking again.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s just finishing up something.”

Now it’sJackson’s turn to shift in his chair. He looks uncomfortable—but determined.

“Speaking of finishing things...” he says, reaching into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a folded piece of paper and hands it to me.

I glance at him before opening it. “What’s this?”

“My resignation,” he says quietly. “From the force.”

I blink, tilting my head. “Wait—what? Why?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drops to his hands, the weight of everything we’ve been through pressing down on his shoulders. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while I’ve been stuck in this hospital. And if you’ve got room for an employee at your private investigator bureau...” He looks up at me, serious. “I’m free for a job. A real one. With real purpose.”

“You want to work for me?” I ask, caught off guard.

He nods. “Yeah. I’ve been sober for the first time in... a long time. Being here, going through all this—it made me realize how far gone I was. I kept thinking my wife was murdered. That Eddie or someone else was behind it. But she... she really did take her own life. And the booze—it just twisted everything. Made me paranoid.”

My heart tightens. I reach out, resting a hand on his arm. His honesty floors me.

“That’s... huge,” I whisper. “I’m proud of you.”

He gives a half-smile. “Thanks. So what do you think? Partners?”

I hesitate, a laugh slipping out despite myself. “Jackson, I’m not even sure I can afford coffee right now, let alone an employee.”

Elio cuts in with a smirk, “I can chip in if you need help funding your new PI empire.”

I shoot him a look. “Don’t you dare. I’m doing this by myself.”

He grins, completely unfazed. “Knew you’d say that.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m smiling too. There’s no edge to it. Just warmth.

Jackson clears his throat. “Well... lucky for you, I’ve got enough disability pay to work for free for at least a year. But—” he gestures to his bandaged leg, “I’ll be a little slower on foot for a while.”

I laugh. “I can live with that.”

And god, I haven’t felt this excited in years. The thought of building something from the ground up—something real, something mine—with people I trust?

It’s exhilarating.

Or maybe it’s the drugs. I don’t really care.

Jackson shifts, adjusting the hospital gown that’s slipping down his shoulder. “Jesus, these things are a nightmare,” he mutters, pulling it back up. “No dignity in hospitals.”

Elio smirks. “You were never big on dignity, anyway.”

Jackson flips him off without missing a beat.

“So, first order of business...” I sit up straighter, my voice firm. “Clean up the city. Mafia out.” I turn my eyes to Vinny. “That includes you, Vinny.”

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