Page 164 of Dukes of Peril

A bittersweet smile touches my lips. “She did. I know she did, because she was smart. Wasn’t she so smart?” I don’t give him a chance to answer. “She knew how to play this game, and that means she knew she’d have to kill you. But she didn’t.” I tilt my head back, imagining all the stars just out of sight, hidden beneath the veil of sunshine. “She didn’t use this phone because it would have killed me, too.”

In a twisted, complicated sort of way, my father was right all along. I did have something to do with my sister’s death. If she’d killed our father and secured her place as Queen of North Side, she would have been bulletproof. Saul and Daniel wouldn’t have been able to touch her. But she hesitated. Forme.

My father argues, “If Leticia ever had the chance to kill you, she wouldn’t have hesitated!”

But it doesn’t penetrate.

Not anymore.

My sister loved me. My mother loved me. The only Lucia who never did isn’t worth mourning.

And I won’t.

“You’re home alone, aren’t you?” Hearing a shuffle behind me, I look over my shoulder, seeing all three of my Dukes standing feet away. I blink, wondering how long they’ve been there, listening. Emotionlessly, I tell my father, “You would be. There’s no one left to show you real loyalty. Just cockroaches running at the first sign of disorder.”

Nick dips his head in a nod, while Remy smirks.

Sy’s eyes are fixed to the distance–to North Side–waiting.

Nastily, he asks, “Why do you care? Thinking of sending your little guard dogs over?” From the sound of my father's voice, he’d love nothing more than to see that happen.

But I shake my head, turning back to watch the sky. “No. I think I just like the idea of it. You all alone in that big, empty box. You don’t even haveyourguard dog anymore.”

“I don’t need one!” he explodes. “I don’t need a Queen, and I certainly don’t need a daughter. My house is empty because none of you have what it takes!”

I nod, back straightening. “That’s all I needed to know.”

The call ends with a sharp vibration and I turn to them–my Dukes and our King. They’re all wearing the same sort of expression–a fighter’s scowl–ready for the punch to be thrown. Their faces harden even more as they watch me pull up the contacts.

“Do you remember the day you taught me how to throw a punch?” I ask Sy, recalling my own surprise at how much it hurt. “You said to never strike out in anger–that if I let anger drive, I’d crash.”

Sy nods. “I remember.”

I hold his stare, because if there’s one thing I need them to know, it’s this. “This isn’t anger, even though I have the right to it. And it’s not revenge, either.” My gaze stops on Nick, whose blue eyes gleam proudly back at me. “This is freedom.”

In the end, Sy was right.

When it comes to men like Saul and my father, it’s easy. My thumb touches the screen, and the truth is, I don’t feel anything. Not excited. Not guilty. There’s no fear or regret, no instinctual, last second wish that I can take it back.

There’s just me and my Dukes, turning our gazes to North Side.

There’s a moment of absolute stillness where my exhale remains caught in my throat. Remy’s hand tangles with mine, and I’m thinking of the cedar chest–the one at the end of my old bed–when the flash comes. It’s a sudden glow in the distance, as if Forsyth herself is discharging a weapon, there and gone. Nick’s fingers lace with my other hand, and above our heads, birds startle from their perch in the top of the belfry, rushing into the wind. They feel it first, before the quake, and our eyes are all fixed to the fiery ball to the north, dust clouding the flames.

I can feel Sy behind me when the sound arrives a second later, his warm palms curling over my shoulders. Thecrackrebounds off the empty streets and their derelict buildings. It’s odd. I think it should be bigger–louder. Instead, it flashes and immediately wanes, the people beneath us going about their day as if nothing’s happened at all.

I lean back against Sy, the man who made me a Queen, and feel it rushing through me like a breath of fresh air. In the distance, a box is burning, and all I feel is relief.

The Lucia name won’t live on.

But Perilini, Maddox, and Bruin will.

30

Nick

“God almighty.”

I fall over Lavinia’s back, cock twitching inside of her warm pussy. Her elbows are on the top of my old dresser, giving me a fantastic view of her tits in the mirror. All in all, perfection.

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