Page 10 of The Tallest Tower (Underbelly Enchanted)

Because though my name and face represent the head of this family, he and I are equals.

When shit goes down and rivals want blood, it’s me they come for. But when discussions are to be had and decisions made, his voice matters just as much as mine.

This is the way I want it. This is the protection I can offer.

Already, three of us five Malones are out of the city and living a life of bliss beyond the ties to the mafia underworld and the history of badblood. Our brothers visit when it’s fun, and step in when it’s needed. But as far as day-to-day danger goes, it’s just me and Micah left in the firing line.

And I will always,alwaysstep forward to shield him.

“Cato wants us to swing by Copeland before orientation day,” he says, glancing back over his shoulder as we traverse the stairs. “Probably missing his daddy figure, ya know?”

Scoffing, I slip my hands into my pockets as we round the third floor and continue down to the second. “I’m not his daddy, Micah. I’m just the boogeyman he saw in his room every night of his youth.”

“Well, his real father was no father to him,” he rumbles, his shoulders bunching and growing larger as we approach the bottom floor. We pass soldiers at every door. On every landing. In every hall. But they’re part of the furniture these days, sentries we were raised to ignore. Guns to exploit when the need arises. “You were the best thing he got—which was more than the rest of us had.”

“The rest of us had each other.” I move off the last step and look left, toward the front door, then to the right when Micah ambles that way. “Maybe Tim the Second beat us black and blue, and maybe he destroyed our innocence long before a boy should be stolen from, but at least we were in it together.”

“Small mercies. Not sure the trade-off was worth it.”

“I’d rather be in hell with my brothers than anywhere else alone.”

My phone trills, vibrating in my back pocket and demanding my attention, so although I kinda want to head outside and feel the sun on my skin, I turn right to go deeper into the house, fish the device free of my pants, and groan when I find Dante’s name on the screen.

Swiping to accept, I follow Micah to the kitchen and bring the phone to my ear. “What?”

“Sir. I was hoping to talk to you about?—”

“Eastern distribution,” I cut in. “Yeah, I heard. I told you to stop wasting my fucking time without a business plan drawn up and something substantial for me to see.”

“A b— A business plan, sir?”

“This is a business, dickhead.” I stroll into the kitchen and make a beeline for the fridge. “I know things are still fresh for you, Dante, andTim did things a little differently, but the Malones have new management. We have a business to run, so if you want my attention, you’ll act like a professional and bring me what I asked.”

While I open the refrigerator door and take out a can of Pepsi, Micah grabs the television remote and switches on the screen perched high on the wall in the opposite corner. A reporter, Dory something, immediately appears.

“I’m standing with Christabelle Cannon, heiress to theCannon Daily Tribute, and the number one crime journalist in the city of New York. Ms. Cannon,” Dory Something turns to the brunette bombshell on her left and shoves a microphone in her face, “we work for the people, both of us. Is there anything you can tell us in regards to the Malone family power shift?”

“We work for the people,” Christabelle agrees, her eyes hard, and her nose, too fuckin perky not to notice, “but I do not work for you.”She looks to the camera, straight into my eyes, and smirks, like she knows her gaze makes my cock hard. “Get your copies of theCannon Dailytomorrow. Available at every newsstand across the city. If you want to know what is happening in our city, to the people we serve, you’ll read my column and follow our call to action.”

“Can’t be that urgent,” Micah drawls, tossing the remote on the counter and turning away from the interview. “If it was breaking news, she’d break it already.”

“Gotta sell newspapers,” I murmur, then I bring my focus back to Dante. “Be like Ms. Cannon, dickhead. Work the business. Make money. Become indispensable. Only then do you get to call my private line and expect me to answer.”

Tugging the phone from my ear and killing our call, I turn from the fridge and bring my soda to the counter. “He’s a pussy, Micah. He’s useless to us.”

“He was important to Tim.” Shrugging, he takes out the very same stool I sat on when I had a flesh wound on my arm and a baby, still dirty with his mother’s blood, screaming the house down. Micah drops onto his seat with no clue of the direction my mind wanders, then grabs an already poured glass of water and turns it between his fingers. “Tim trusted him with distribution.”

“And Tim rotted in his own skin, and died with shit in his diaper,with no way to fight what was hurting him.” I pop the tab of my soda and come around to stop on the opposite side of the counter. “Tim is no longer the standard by which we run our business, Micah. Nor how we run this family.”

“Howdowe run this family?” he counters seriously, his green eyes glittering with challenge. “You inherited an empire, Lix. Coke, money, guns, and women. But the very first thing you do is cut that last one off, and tell all the others to write you abusiness plan. What the fuck is that? Morality?”

“I won’t sell women.” I bring my drink up, more to buy myself time than to wet my throat. Because fuck, I’m not even sure I know what Iwant. “I don’t know what this is gonna look like a year from now,” I admit, lowering my soda and meeting his hard stare. “But I know I’m not taking girls before they’ve had a chance to bleed, and selling them to the dirtiest, richest fucker at auction.”

“Girls make money!”

“So we buy more clubs and let them dance for it! But they dance because they want to, and they fuck whoever they wanna fuck.”

“Lix—”

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