Page 149 of F*ckboys

"Because that's what families do."

Shame washes over me, sudden and suffocating in its intensity. I'm drowning in sins of my own making, unable to find purchase beneath the roiling tide of emotions.

"I'm sorry." The words emerge as a strangled sob. "Bronson, I—"

"Hush." A warm hand closes over my wrist, grounding me. I glance up to find Bronson watching me, a wry twist to his lips. "No apologies between monsters, remember?" His voice is a little ragged, sweat beading on his forehead, but he's regained a little color.

A laugh spills out, jagged around the edges but filled with the promise of absolution. The demons haven't left us, but for now they sleep, exorcized by the ties that bind.

Broken yet whole. Monsters, but together.

This is what families do.

I wake with a start, glancing over to see Aksel rubbing my arm and staring at me with concern. "Fallon, you were screaming in your sleep. Are you okay?"

"Yep," I reply, sighing. "Just stabbing my brothers at a family dinner."

He smirks. "Wow, and I thought the first one I went to was pretty tense!"

"Yep, they're always pretty exhausting. But this one took the cake," I shake my head. "Thankfully, I didn't actually commit fratricide. And Link is very lucky he didn't make an appearance in my dream. Poor Brons on the other hand," I shake my head.

Clearly, it's not just Aksel and I who have some healing to do. My subconscious is telling me my family is just as fucked. We all need help. But, if we all put the work in, I'm confident we can get there.

Chapter 83

Aksel

My blood boils as I storm through the warehouse, my fists clenched. The familiar metallic scent of blood and fear cling to the damp air—remnants of my family’s latest 'business transaction', a hostile acquisition on the other side of town.

How did I get here? When did the darkness overtake the light in my soul? I've been dragged down into the abyss of dodgy deals and organized crime, and it feels like I may never make it up for air. It provides a good life for me and my future family, from a financial perspective, but I often find myself wondering whether it's worth the psychological toll it takes. Or the damage it does to my soul.

I pause outside the door of my office and drag a hand through my hair. The familiar weight of the 9mm pistol in my jacketpocket serves as a grim reminder of the path I’ve chosen. Of the lives I’ve destroyed to protect what’s mine. To protect her.

Fallon. Her name slices through my chest like a knife, sharp and swift. I told myself I was protecting her, but with each business risk I take, I'm pulling her further into the shadows. When I'm a target, she's now a target. And I don't think she appreciates what being with me entails now, and what it is she'd be getting into as a result.

The door creaks open behind me. “Boss? We got a problem.”

I turn to face my lieutenant, schooling my features into cool indifference. “What is it?”

He shifts on his feet, eyes flickering away from mine. “Word on the street is the Delacortes are planning a hit. Tonight.”

My fingers curl into fists at the mention of that family. They’ve been nipping at our heels for months, trying to take what’s ours.

Tonight they’ll learn their lesson.

I meet my lieutenant’s gaze, allowing a slow, menacing smile to spread across my face. “Very interesting. It seems we have some unfinished business with the Delacortes, and so perhaps tonight is the night we should have that conversation with them. Move our business interests along in a mutually beneficial way.”

He nods sharply. “I’ll rally the men.”

"Oh, and Baroni?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"If they don't come to the party, shoot them on sight. We need to send a message that we haven't suddenly become pushovers."

As he leaves to carry out my orders, I glance out the window into the inky darkness beyond. Somewhere out there, Fallon is waiting for me. Waiting for the man I used to be.

The man I can never be again. And I need some advice to get me through from the person I trust most with my heart.

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