Kella doesn’t speak anymore after she finished her story. She looks angry and I feel like an asshole but she has to know that some decisions aren’t hers to make. Life or death isn’t always our call. She was right to call me out though, I’m just as guilty as her of being the judge, jury and executioner. I can’t help but think for a moment how close her story came to being Bree’s. Bree didn’t have to go through foster care, instead living with a monster. Something inside me clicks into place and I know it’s time I dealt with someone I’ve been putting off and I know just the person to get close to her.

After making sure Kella isn’t due for her next dose of morphine, I tell her to get some sleep and walk out of my bedroom. I don’t think Kella realized she was in my penthouse. I never bring anyone here as a rule, but I wanted her, no I needed her, to be where I could easily keep an eye on her. Somewhere she could be safe and comfortable while healing since taking her to the hospital was out of the question. The doctor we keep on call made quick work of fixing her shoulder. She was damn lucky Abramo had used a smaller gauge gun since he was trying to play off the guise of being unarmed. Rage from the meeting, from Declan refusing to listen, from Kella being fucking shot courses through me all at once. Before I can stop myself, I punch my fist through the wall in my hallway. Drywall and plaster fly out, covering the floor and my hand. My housekeeper, Michelle, isn’t going to be happy about this. She’s not going to like the blood-soaked sheets from Kella’s operation either. Fuck it, she makes five times more than any other housekeeper in the state, she can deal with it.

The pain throbbing through my hand makes me focus. I make my way down the hallway to the living room. The room is large with vaulted ceilings and completely lined with panoramic windows. Going to the sliding glass doors I open them, stepping out on to my balcony. The sun set a while ago, but the lights from the nearby buildings give the night air an eerie yellow glow. I pull my phone out and find the number I’m looking for.

“Hello?” Lexi’s voice sounds hopeful, not nearly as arrogant as it did the last time we spoke to each other.

“I need your help,” I rumble, hoping like hell this isn’t the worst idea I’ve ever had.

I’m going to regret this.

* * *

After I finish my call with Lexi which took ten times longer than it should have, I make my way back inside to the couch and my scotch cabinet. Filling a tumbler with the amber liquor, I sit down and stare out at the city, my city.

I never thought when I was a young cocky asshole that I would be wrong about so many things. I thought I was doing what was right when I left Bree with her mother and took up this life. I’ve worked for every damn thing I have, except for her. The second chance I’ve had with her, the chance to try and make her life something better than the hell she’s living, is the one thing I could have never hoped to get. The one thing I could have never earned. It’s a precious gift I don’t intend to waste.

I failed her. Just like I failed to protect Kella tonight. Shaking my head, I down the rest of my liquor and set the empty glass on one of the side tables.

I need to focus, but all I can think about is Kella resting in my damn bed. Something primal in me likes it but the logical side of me knows I’m treading a dangerous line. Fucking kissing her, wanting her.

“Fuck!” I roar, slapping the tumbler off the table, it lands, shattering into a million scattered pieces on my dark wood floors.

“So, things are going well I see.” Declan’s voice travels across the room catching me off guard.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” I growl, not bothering to turn around.

“I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that question.” Jake’s voice reaches my ears.

“Leave me alone.” I sigh, aggravated at the fact that I’m aggravated. I just want to be alone with my scotch bottle to wallow in my failures.

“Nope. Not tonight.” Jake comes around the side of the couch, jumping on the cushion over from me, making the couch slide across my custom wood floors, before plopping his dirty feet on my antique coffee table.

“Get your fucking feet off that!” I bitch, slapping his leg.

“Look, Bree won’t sleep until we check on Kella and more importantly you. It’s not normal for you to bring anyone here …” His voice cuts out for a moment. “Or that we haven’t heard a fucking word from you for almost an entire day. Is there something we need to know?” Declan comes and sits across from me in my recliner. It looks like a regular fucking chair due to the sheer size of him.

“No,” I say it a little too quickly. Declan’s eyes widen slightly but he takes the smart route and keeps his mouth shut.

“So what’s the plan?” Jake asks, pulling his phone out and smiling before texting someone back. Probably Greg based on the shit-eating grin he’s sporting.

“Right now, we need to wait for word from Tony,” I hedge, for once in my life I hadn’t been thinking about work. I’ve been thinking about me, about what I want.

“Do you really think we’ll hear from him? I mean none of his fucking men made it back.” Jake smirks. “Alive anyway.” He gives an ironic chuckle.

“You didn’t really send them that package did you?” I groan. Jake can be a scary bastard when he wants to be. He also watches too many movies.

“Maybe,” Jake says, shrugging his shoulders.

“You sick and twisted …” I start before Declan cuts me off.

“How is she?” Declan must be some sort of saint. He’s always full of infinite patience, constantly running to the rescue for his brother.

“She’s fine. She was lucky, the bullet missed anything vital. Doc says she should have full use of her shoulder and arm in six to eight weeks.” I latch onto his subject change, thankful to talk about something else than the dark, twisted fields that are Jake’s mind.

“She staying here the whole time?” Jake asks, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Haven’t decided yet.” It’s the truth, mostly.

“So, we wait for Tony, again, and then what? Wow, this scenario sure seems familiar.” Jake brings the conversation back to work, thankfully, albeit in a smart-ass way.

“Easy,” I hiss, not wanting to let his insolence go unchecked. “We need to be ready for war, which is exactly what I didn’t want to fuckin’ happen,” I growl, grabbing the bottle of scotch and not bothering with a glass. I take a swig and lean over, passing it to Declan who takes a healthy swallow. “We’ve got the ammo, we’ve got the men, but that doesn’t mean this fight won’t have a cost.” I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees, letting my head hang.

“One day at a time,” Declan says quietly and I give him a weak nod in acknowledgment.

“First there is something I need to take care of. Something personal.” I raise my head, my eyes meeting Declan’s. I’m not sure how, but somehow he knows what I’m thinking. It’s not the first time Declan’s been on top of things, catching on before anyone else. It’s how he managed to save my daughter. I have no illusions, Bree was fading in front of our eyes, and Declan brought her back to life.

“Is that what you really think the right thing to do is?” he asks calmly.

“Wouldn’t you if you could?” I say simply.

“Can you guys stop having a fucking conversation without having a conversation? Shit is annoying as fuck,” Jake complains, grabbing the bottle of scotch from Declan. Instead of taking a drink he sets it on the coffee table in front of me. I’m still not quite used to a sober Jake, but it’s for the best.

“Bree’s mom,” Declan says, not taking his eyes away from mine.

“Fuck yeah, let’s kill the bitch,” Jake says, grinning like a madman, slamming a fist into his palm.

“This is something I’m doing alone,” I say, even though it’s not entirely true.

“Is that really the smart way to handle it?” Declan asks.

“Look, I know Bree says she’s over it. I know she thinks we should just let sleeping dogs lie, but I failed her. I never rescued her, I never even realized what was happening. I need to do this, I need to make that cunt pay for what she’s done.” I lay my cards on the table.

“She won’t like it.” Declan isn’t saying anything I don’t know.

“She doesn’t have to.” It’s cold, but it’s true. I will not be swayed on this.

“Then we do it, but we do it together,” Jake says, going back to texting on his phone.

I want to argue, but I’m too grateful.