Page 128 of Bloodstained Wings

I cling to Carter and refuse to let go.

In the end, he has to carry me out of the house, and I spot the note I left by the door out of the corner of my eye. He sets me down in the passenger seat and pulls the seatbelt over, and it clicks into place. Even though Carter doesn’t say anything, his emotions are written all over his face.

But he has to be strong for both of us. Because if he breaks down, I won’t ever be able to leave him.

I bridge the distance between us to kiss him and pull back. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll see you soon,” Carter echoes in a strange voice. He steps back, slams the door shut, and raps on the roof of the car. I press my fingers to the glass and keep my eyes fixed on him. With the early morning sun slanted behind him, he looks like the loneliest man in the world.

Especially as we drive away. He gets smaller and smaller, and I twist in my seat and stare at Carter until we round the corner.

Even then, I don’t turn around because I don’t want Tristan to see how hard this is for me. To his credit, he keeps both hands on the wheel and doesn’t say a thing. The entire ride, I curl in on myself and press my face against the glass. When the mansion materializes in the distance, my stomach clenches, and I feel like throwing up.

Already, I feel like this place is a prison, gilded and luxurious but meant to keep me trapped.

And away from all the things I love.

***

Carter

“We can’t go after their business, not directly at least. They’ll see us coming.” I trace the blueprints in front of me and glance up at the slew of familiar faces gathered around Anita’s dining room table. It feels strange not to have her here, the familiar sound of banging and the smell of her cooking lingering in her air.

And I hate that Isabella isn’t somewhere in the house, waiting for me.

But I also know it’s better for them to be far away.

I can’t trust the Philipses or the Natoris not to attack Anita’s house. Already, they’ve proven to be cunning and resourceful, completely disregarding any kind of courtesy between our families. Instead, they’ve doubled down on their efforts to expand their business and take the city by force.

I’m already impatient to show them exactly what I’m made of. What we—the Blackthornes—are made of.

Everyone around the dining room table is committed to seeing this through, and every last one of them has proven themselves loyal and true to the cause. When I look over at Paul and see him straighten his back, I return my attention to the blueprints.

“We’ve got intel about their safe houses and a few places where they conduct their operations,” I continue. “We’re going to split up into groups. We hit them fast, and we hit them hard, leaving no time for them to recover.”

“What about the Donahues? They’re already moving in on the docks.”

“Rich Donahue is a prick, and I’ve underestimated him. I won’t be making that mistake again. He’s going to be my problem, but we need to take care of the Philipses and the Natoris first.”

Because they are the more immediate problem.

Focusing my attention on Rich is personal and won’t get me where I need to be.

Eliminating the Philipses and the Natoris, however, remains my priority.

Once I’m done with them, I’m going to make sure Rich and his men bathe in their blood. Throughout the day, more and more Blackthorne men show up, many of them arriving from out of the country. Considering the number of people we’re meant to fight and the severity of the threat, I’ve called in all reinforcements.

Even the Blackthornes who’ve expressed their doubts are here.

Despite our issues, we are all united under a common banner, a common enemy.

And we won’t rest until our enemy’s legs are cut off and thrown to the wolves. In the afternoon, I send out the first group to target one of the Philipses’ warehouses. Since it’s one of the lesser-known ones, my men are able to break in easily and set the whole place on fire. In the distance, I watch as black smoke forms and rises to the sky. Then I take a few pictures and tuck my phone away.

Next, we target another one of their warehouses, a bigger one with more security out front.

I take most of the guards out without breaking a sweat, and as I step over the trail of dead bodies, I’m filled with a grim sense of satisfaction. Inside, it’s all too easy to lay claim to the merchandise: bags and bags of unattended drugs and guns. Once we’re done loading up the vans, I give the signal, and the whole place goes up in flames.

By nightfall, we’ve received more than our fair share of threats from the Philipses and the Natoris.

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