“I found Him in the shining of the stars, I marked Him in the flowering of His fields, But in His ways with men I find Him not. I waged His wars, and now I pass and die.” —Idylls of the King, 1856–1885
King
Time moves in slow motion when you’re grieving. I barely have time to scream when I see Del scramble back against Roman. He shields her with his body as more gunshots ring out.
Her uncle falls to the ground, blood spilling from his chest as he collapses from his knees to the grass.
More gunshots ring out, but they aren’t coming from me.
I look around and mobilize my guys as they start moving toward the buildings and getting people out.
Sirens sound.
Chaos erupts, but she’s alive, bleeding but alive. That’s all I need to know.
Roman yells over his shoulder. “The gunshot needed to go through her side. She’s okay.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I reach for Del, tears stream down her face as Roman holds part of his torn shirt against her side.
“Clean through,” he says. “He promised it would be clean through. You were brave,” Roman chokes out, then bursts into tears. “You were so fucking brave.”
“A queen…” She looks up at me, her eyes fluttering. “…always stands by her King, sometimes that means standing for him, rather than beside him.”
She passes out in his arms. I reach for her, pulling part of her body across mine as Ash and Junior start barking out orders, ones I’m incapable of giving because I’m so wrecked.
She’s okay.
She’s going to be okay.
She stood by my side.
Until it ends… it hasn’t ended.
God, how much more can I take?
“Do your job.” Roman pulls her back. “Let me do mine. I’ll protect her.”
I take a deep breath and get up.
The next hour goes by in another blur as we go from dorm to dorm to make sure students are okay. We get everyone out but one.
And that one will be on my conscience until the day I die.
Nothing burned to the ground, but the damage is bad. What’s important is the madman is dead, and mostly everyone is safe.
I’m leaning against my SUV, standing next to Chase. He puts a hand on my shoulder. “You did good.”
“I feel like I almost had a nervous breakdown, but thanks.”
“Part of the job,” He grunts out. Nixon joins him, then Dante, Valerian, Maksim, Sergio, Andrei, Junior, Tank, Ash, Dom, Phoenix.
The main men.
The men of the mafia.
Of the Five Families.
All but my dad.
My stomach hurts; my heart feels like my ribs are piercing it over and over again like a knife.
Nixon’s the first to speak. “Do we have any idea who the hell fired that shot?”
“Eh, it could have been better,” a familiar voice sounds.
I look to my right as Frank starts arguing with Luca, the old Nicolasi boss, the one who’s supposed to be dead. They’re both wearing scarves; naturally, it’s what they do.
Frank’s arguing with him about the correct angle.
“She’s fine!” Luca announces. “I told her it would be fine!”
I can’t be the only one stunned stupid.
“Her and her crazy plans, have fun with that one, King, you deserve her.” He snorts, his silver hair gleaming in the light as he tucks his gun back into his black trousers. “Yells a lot too.”
“So do you,” Frank fires back. “Retirement is for the fucking birds.” He stretches his arms over his head then waves ten of their men over.
I can tell nobody even knows what to say.
That Luca, one of the most powerful men in the mafia to date just, like, rose from the dead or, according to everyone last year, golfing with Satan to save our asses.
“Feels good to be back.” He nods.
“You’re a shit golfer.” Frank rolls his eyes. “The number of times I said fore—”
“Bullshit, I just take my time, my hip’s acting up a bit, and when it gets cold, you know I can’t concentrate.”
Frank sighs, then turns to me. “Smart girl, you got there though; he’s right about that.”
“How did she, you mean Del?” Sergio’s already patched her up and given her a sedative while Roman watches over her before we can leave. “Del? My Del?”
Luca grins. “Came banging on Frank’s door like the world was ending, said she had a plan, and well, here we are, I mean it didn’t go perfect, but you know villains, they can’t help but talk and talk and talk about their plans. Her uncle, not the smartest, so when she found out what he was going to do, we were there to help her formulate a plan that would work, had a little help.”
Frank raises his hand. “Me. I’m the help.”
“Had to call in a favor.” He looks to everyone else. “You all look pretty good, aging like you should.”
Chase speaks up first. “Nixon dyes his hair.”
Nixon shoves him. “And you don’t?”
“Totally natural.”
Phoenix snorts out a laugh. “Bullshit.”
“Okay, person who goes to the tanning booth.” Dante cracks up.
“He gets ‘seasonal affective disorder.’” Sergio makes air quotes, and then I laugh.
I laugh so hard because it’s like me and the rest of my friends, only the ones who established this crazy world.
Eagle Elite University.
Owned by the mafia.
Run by them
And yet, history always has a way of repeating itself, doesn’t it? Sometimes in the best ways. Other times in the worst.
Ash taps me on the shoulder while the older guys bicker.
“Yeah?” I’m exhausted.
“Nikolai,” Ash whispers under his breath. “He says we need to get back to the house as soon as possible.”
The only doctor that can treat my father and create a miracle, and I need to rush from this to that.
I steel myself and nod. “Let’s pack up.”
We leave the FBI behind with a couple of vehicles to make sure that we don’t have any issues, and I walk toward Del, gathering her in my arms and holding her there.
Roman looks like hell.
We share a look after he passes her to me.
“She’s where she belongs,” he says with a nod.
“With both of us,” I say. “Her bodyguard.”
He smiles. “And her king.”
“Holy shit, what did I miss?” Tiffany shouts, interrupting us. “I was told you guys needed backup and like—”
“God, Tiffany!” Roman yells. “Could you have taken any longer?”
She, honest to God, is holding a corn dog. “Got hungry then got a text that you guys had it handled and figured… blood sugar, you know?”
I shake my head. “She is ALL yours.”
Roman narrows his eyes at me while I smile and walk off, feeling at least a little lighter, all because the worst bodyguard in history is holding a corn dog.
Mafia life.
Not normal.
Never normal.