Cyprus

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, looking at Birch through the mirror. Pulling my hair back, I tied it in a ponytail and adjusted my shirt. “I don't usually do this type of thing. This is all you and your dad.”

Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kissed my neck and stared at my reflection. “You're a part of this too, you should be there.”

Pursing my lips, I thought about what he was asking of me. Nick and Birch wanted me there for the exchange. That wasn't how things typically went. In the past, I always stayed back, keeping watch over the bar or the house.

I wasn't sure how I felt about it.

“I don't know.” Dropping my arms to my sides, I asked, “What about Frankie or Vincent? Why don't you have them go along?”

Scrunching his face, he shook his head. “Not today, we don't want them, we want you.”

Turning, I leaned back against the sink and gripped the granite. “What if I screw it up somehow?”

“From what Dad told me about what you did yesterday, I'm pretty sure you can handle yourself.” Smirking, his thumb traced my throat, eyes glistening in the bright lights set above our heads.

“He told you everything?”

Nodding, Birch kissed my forehead. “I think you're ready for this. I wasn't sure before, but after that, I'm not worried anymore. You're strong, Cyprus, you're one of us. There's no doubt in my mind about that. You were made for this life, it's like it's built into your DNA.”

It did come a little too easily. I can't argue with him on that.

But does that mean I'm really ready? Do I want to see how dark this world can be?

I had been able to evade the black hate that coated this world like a satin sheath. Burying my head in the sand, I was able to ignore all the blood that spilled because of what we did.

I knew it existed, I knew that it was a means to an end for those that went against Nick and the family, but I never really allowed those thoughts to take shape until now.

It was one thing to be aware of it all, to hear stories and know what someone was capable of; but to witness it, that was a totally different thing.

You either did what you said you would, or that was it, you didn't get to see tomorrow. It was black and white, there was no middle ground.

But the middle ground was where I sat. Blindly I fixed documents and altered numbers, adjusting everything so Nick came out the other end clean. And on either side of where I stood was a violent presence just waiting for me to join in.

For years I thought I wanted to be one of them, I wanted to be who they were because they had done so much for me. I wanted to make Nick proud, show him that he had done a great job of creating the person I was.

But I had never seen them kill anyone. I heard about it several times, the details painted by Birch so vividly that I never felt the need to see it. I chose to not let the gravity of what he was saying scare me away.

Now, I wasn't so sure that this was what I wanted with my life at all. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see the innocent girl I once had. All I could see was the cold shadows working their way down my shoulders, pulling me under.

I'm here, I'm one of them.

Not seeing doesn't change my position in this. If we got arrested tomorrow, I'd be just as guilty as if I had pulled the trigger myself.

Doubting myself was the worst thing I could do. This family needed me as much as I needed them.

“Alright, I'll go.” Birch attempted to kiss my lips, but I held up my hand to block him. “But if I don't like how it's going, I'm out.”

“Of course, Babe, I won't make you do something you don't want to.” Running his fingers through my ponytail, he let the strands slip freely over his skin. “But I think it's good for you to see it. One day it's going to be us running this shit, and it's hard to trust other people. I trust you, I trust you with everything I have.”

Smiling, my cheeks blushed. “You really are good at sweet talking me, you know that?” Hugging his ribs, I rested my head on his firm chest. “When do we leave?”

I could hear his heart beating, and that sound, it did things to me. Birch had always told me that his heart beat for me, that I was the blood flowing through his veins and the air filling his lungs.

Listening to him live, hearing that life as it played music against his ribs, it made everything else vanish. My muscles relaxed, the tension a faded cramp that would soon be gone.

“The drop is suppose to be at four, so about twenty minutes.” Placing his chin on the top of my head, Birch held me tight. “I don't want you to worry, I'll make sure nothing happens to you. I would never let you get hurt, Cyprus, not ever.”

That's not what I'm concerned about.

I'm not worried about physical pain.

Tilting my head, I forced our eyes to connect. “I know, I'm not worried about getting hurt, Birch. I'm more worried about how I'll come out after.” Swirling a single finger around his chest, I furrowed my brows. “I don't know if I can handle seeing this side of it. If things go bad, and I see someone die, if I see you die—”

“Cyprus,” he said, his voice low and thick. “Everyday I play Russian roulette, you can't control that—not with what we do. Nothing that happens would be your fault. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for. Trust me, you'll be fine. This is how shit goes, this is just how it is.”

Is it? Is this all there is for us?

“Does it have to be this way? Wouldn't it be nice to not have to worry every time you step foot out that door?”

“What are you talking about?”

Teasing a crinkle in his shirt, I pressed it flat, running my fingertips over his stomach. “What if we did something else? We could do that, couldn't we? Start over, start fresh, none of this weighing us down. . .” Pausing, I searched his face for understanding.

Just hear me, just listen to me.

I wanted him to understand why I felt this way. The thought of losing him, of losing another family to something we could control, I wasn't sure that was what I wanted. It was a thought that had popped into my head after what happened with Antoine, and I couldn't stop thinking about it.

When Valentina passed, we all knew it was coming. There was months between her finding out about the cancer that was eating her soul and her actual death. It wasn't an easy thing, and I'm not trying to make it sound like it was.

But there was a difference. There was a mental preparation for the end that was coming. Any death of a loved one was a horrible thing to go through, but a sudden death, one that came in a blink of an eye, without warning. . . There was something different about it.

I had already lost one family in a flash, I couldn't bear the thought of losing another.

Giving me a confused look, his brows scrunched into the bridge of his nose. “Why would we want to do that?”

Shrugging my shoulder, I kept my eyes on his chest. “What if we have kids one day? Is this the life you want them to have?”

Taking in a deep breath, Birch pinched my chin and lifted my eyes to his. “This is what I know, Cyprus, this is all I know. And I'm damn good at it—” Holding my face, his gaze stayed firmly planted on mine. “You're damn good at it. Leaving isn't an option, running away is out of the question.” Drawing his lips paper thin, his lids lowered. “Do you realize what you're asking me?”

Yes. . . No. . . I don't know.

I was afraid of what I was becoming. I thought and felt nothing when I had my gun on Collin and was strangling Antoine. It scared me. I wasn't sure this was who I was supposed to be.

Did I want to be a crazed maniac, trigger happy and heartless?

Did I want the Grim Reaper to be following everyone I loved, waiting for the gavel to drop?

Death was literally waiting for you on the other side of that door in this world. I was still young, and one day I wanted to have a family of my own. Was this the life I wanted to give them? Would it be fair for them to not know if their parents would come home alive or dead?

That entire incident had gotten me thinking about the loss I dealt with everyday, and how much it hurt to not have my real family.

Yes, I had Birch and the family his father had allowed me to be a part of, and I was grateful for that. But it wasn't the same, even though I wanted it to be.

Was I a born killer? Was it really that easy for me to just take someone out because they said something I didn't like? Is that the example I wanted to set for my future children?

They've been there for me. Despite this life, we are a family.

So what makes this life any worse than the rest?

Nothing.

I had to stop living with all this hurt. I had to stop dwelling on what wasn't there and accept what was. This was my family, that was all that mattered. Family didn't have to be blood tied, it came from love and nurturing. It was built off endless trust and knowing who had your back when you were down.

That's what I had here.

“No, no, I don't want to leave. I just. . .” Forcing a smile, I traced his ribs. “It's just that yesterday got me thinking. It was so easy to do what I did, and I guess it scared me.”

Cupping my face, Birched smiled. “Babe, there is nothing wrong with having a conscience. I hate some of the shit I've done, but it doesn't change who I am. I'm a Rottera, I'll always be a Rottera, and that will follow me for life.” His thumbs strummed my jawline, tender and caring. “But it doesn't make us bad people. We do things because we're pushed to, because we have to, not simply because we want to. And we don't kill innocent people just for fun, you know that.”

Nodding, I let my face snuggle into his hands. “You're right, you're absolutely right.”

Holding my cheeks, he kissed me. “You ready? It's time to go.”

“Yeah, let's do this.” Grabbing my gun off the sink, I tucked it into the back of my jeans. “Better safe than sorry,” I said, as the cold steel burned my skin like hot coals.

I was torn inside. I wanted to think that what I did had a purpose. And if someone got hurt or killed because they forced our hand, then that wasn't on me.

That didn't make me evil and stone cold. Right?

Or was I just fooling myself? Was I living in some altered perception of what good really was?

People were killed by the Rottera hands, families lost loved ones because of bad deals and poor decisions.

Some people say that the root of all evil is money. . . But is it really?

Or is it the people holding out their hands, waiting for the basket to deliver that gold? Who decided what made evil and what defined it?

My heart wanted to be pure, but my soul was tainted. I was in too deep to get out now. This was what I wanted, I wanted to be a part of this family and their life.

I held my hands out and took from their basket.

Why stop to ponder it now?