Page 77 of Hunter

“Fuck, I need a shower.”

“You’re going to want to see this first,” Connor says, leaning forward and tapping at the envelope like it might vanish.

Damon stands silently between them, calm and composed as he always is. Since leaving the force and sorting his shit out at home, he has become the immovable center of our group.

As I pick up the documents and start thumbing through the papers, Harrison appears. I look around at the men in the room, my men, and it hits me how much has changed. Before, they were never welcome here—it was my place and my place alone. Now, it’s almost normal. My house feels less of a fortress, and more of a home to be enjoyed by myself and those I love. That’s a sensation I never thought I’d have.

“Have you told him the good news?” Harrison says, almost jovial. That’s rare for him at this time in the morning. Usually, he’s half-way out the door, desperate to get back to Violet and his daughter. Meetings outside normal working hours aren’t as welcome as they used to be.

“Lombardi’s power is splintering,” Russell begins, obviously bored waiting for me to read through the intelligence in my hands. Messages and photos show unrest within his family ranks, his nephew’s moving in to take power now his wedding didn’t go ahead. “There is no legitimate heir.”

“I can see that,” I say, waving the papers at him. “They’re all trying to create their own allegiances.”

“There are four nephews,” Connor interrupts. “All of them working within the family, every one of them with their eyes on the prize. The fallout from the wedding hasn’t only causedussome issues.”

“This could be good for us,” Damon says, walking around to stand behind me and looking over my shoulder at the messages. “Infighting means the Lombardi family could collapse. They’ll be so busy killing one another, they’ll have little time for anything else.”

Harrison clears his throat. He’s been pretty much silent since his arrival, just listening to what the others have to say.

“Someone has already tried,” he announces, stepping forward. “Domenico himself is in the hospital as we speak. When he returned to Italy late last night, someone spiked his drink. The old bastard isn’t only battered and embarrassed after yesterday, he’s fighting for his life.”

“How the fuck do you know that?” Russell grunts, clearly pissed at being outsmarted by better information. Harrison taps his nose and smiles.

“Contacts, Chase. I have contacts.”

“You didn’t just humiliate him, Hunter,” Damon says. “You exposed his weakness. And now, the sharks are hungry for blood.”

“Hopefully, they’ll all eat each other,” Connor mutters.

I sit back in my chair, brightened by the unexpected gift.

This is how empires fall. Not with bullets, but in the silence between them. Family plots, allies turning, the old lion dying while the vultures circle. And I didn’t even have to get my knife dirty.

“Perfect,” I say. “He’s bleeding out. Let’s not stop him.”

“Shall we get a drink to celebrate?” Harrison suggests.

The guys stand, and I watch them with a smirk. Even though life has changed irreversibly for us all, we’re still the band we once were. Eager to share both congratulations and commiserations. Still down for chaos. Still here for each other.

“It’s six in the morning, too early for drink,” I mutter, and all eyes snap to me.

“That’s never stopped you before,” Russell goads. His assessment is true, there is always time for a whiskey at an opportune moment. Harrison begins to move as if to leave.

“Where are you going, Waite?” I shout to his retreating back.

“I have a bottle of my best in the car. You know I always have one in the icebox, just in case” he calls over his shoulder. “This morning calls for gold. Nothing less.”

In the corner of my office are two large leather sofas sitting in an L-shape. The rest of us relocate to there, throwing ourselves down in exhaustion. I know no one has slept. After the chaos of yesterday, it was all hands on deck to ensure Lombardi wasn’t going to attack amongst the fray.

Damon lies his head back on the headrest just as his phone beeps.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbles, digging around in his pocket without opening his eyes.

“Is that your missus whipping your ass again?” Russell teases.

“I often wonder who wears the trousers in that house,” his brother chimes in.

“You two can’t fucking talk. Samantha has you on your knees like hookers,” Damon mutters. “And we all know Emma would beat my ass if I didn’t do as I was told. I prefer spanking hers.” Everyone laughs as Damon attempts to focus on the screen. “Greyson and Tilly have arrived in Bangkok. Mission accomplished.”

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