Page 41 of The Queen
“Justice,” I say, my voice calm and deadly. “For my mother, for Raph, for every life you’ve taken and for trying to shoot your own son, you fucking bitch.”
The room is thick with tension, every second stretching out like an eternity. I stand over Lila, watching the rise and fall of her chest slow until it stops. She lies there, motionless, the finality of death etched into the stillness of her form.
A wave of triumph crashes over me, but it’s quickly chased by a tide of grief. It’s done. She’s gone, but it doesn’t bring my mother back.
“Eliza?” Felix’s voice cuts through the silence, tentative. I don’t look at him yet; I can’t. My focus is on the body at my feet, the cost of this war we’re waging written in blood.
I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. I’ve avenged her; I’ve upheld our family honour. This is what victory looks like in the mafia—a tangle of loss and justice served cold.
“Let’s go,” I finally say, holstering my weapon. The weight of it against my hip is a familiar comfort. Felix nods, his hand gripping his other arm.
“You okay?”
“Bitch shot me.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Told you she’s a cunt.”
“Was.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“What for?” His blue eyes search mine.
“Killing your mother.”
“Well, she killed yours, so I guess we’re even.”
“Yeah. You okay, though?”
“A graze, I’ll live.”
Fucked up doesn’t even cover it.
We turn our backs on the carnage and bump into Oliver and James, still and silent as they witness this shitshow.
They both nod but don’t say anything, and I smile stiffly as I walk away. The air outside feels different, cleaner somehow, but it does nothing to wash away the stain on my soul. I keep walking, each step a silent echo of the ones that came before, a rhythm to the chaos that’s been my life since I was born into this family.
My car waits for me, a silent beast in the shadowy street. We slide inside, and Felix starts the engine without a word, the silent knowledge surrounding us that I need him to step up as my big brother right now. The hum fills the space between us, a barrier to conversation, to questions, to comfort, but that’s okay because words are useless right now.
I lean back against the seat, close my eyes, and let out a long breath. My body aches with the exertion of every fight in the last few weeks and with the weight of what I’ve done. But it’s over. Lila won’t hurt anyone else ever again.
“Eliza,” Felix finally says, his voice low and rough with emotion. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
I open my eyes and look at him. His profile is tense, jaw set, eyes fixed on the road. It takes effort to soften my voice, to accept the apology I know cost him something to give. “Apology accepted, Felix. But let’s not pretend it’s all water under the bridge.”
“Fair enough,” he replies. The rest of the ride is drowned by the sound of tyres on wet asphalt as autumn rain falls, causing a chill to seep into my bones.
As the townhouse looms into view, something gnaws at my gut—a nagging whisper that this isn’t the end. I shake off the feeling as he parks the car next to Raph’s Porsche.
“Before you go,” I say, turning to face him, “I’ll talk to Dad. Make sure he understands your place in all this. But you’ve got more to prove, to him especially.”
Felix nods, a grim determination settling over his features. “I will. You have my word.”
“Your word better be worth something,” I warn, then we step out of the car, leaving him to contemplate his next move.
