“No fucking promises,” he ground out as we made our way down to the gym.
He hurt, so he needed to hurt.
And I was going to be the punching bag.
I took a swig of whiskey and winced.
Fingers crossed, I kept all my fingers.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Serena
Most everyone skipped the wine and went straight to the hard stuff, choosing to crash in our huge theater room while happy movies played in the background.
Breaker made Tank take enough shots that the guy had let go of all of his inhibitions and was trying to adorably hit on me as if he knew what to do with me once he had me.
Most men didn’t.
Junior did, a voice reminded me.
My hands shook as I downed the rest of my vodka shot. It could have been him. It could have been any of us.
I wasn’t afraid often; today, I was terrified, and no amount of booze or Disney movies was going to take that away.
He could have been taken from me.
He was mine.
Mine, damn it!
The world felt thick around me as I made my way toward the door.
Tank blocked it with his massive body and then gave me a sloppy grin that was too adorable to be sexy. “Going slomwhere?”
I sighed. “Tank, Tank, Tank.” I patted him on the shoulder. “I would eat you alive.”
“I might like it.” He leaned closer, tilting my chin toward him.
“You also might bleed to death.” I winked.
He barked out a laugh. “I like your sense of humor.”
“Wasn’t kidding,” I pulled him in for a hug. “We’ll find you a nice girl, don’t worry. Also, give me your keys.”
He dug into the front pocket of his jeans and took at least five attempts before he dangled them between us. “Done.”
“Yeah, you need to hydrate. It’s hard to hang with Italians who drink wine for breakfast.” I pointed his body toward one of the leather couches. “Sleep.”
“I’m not shleeepy!” he argued, but his eyes were already closed as he stumbled across the couch face down.
In the corner, Breaker snickered, a bottle of gin in his hand. “Lightweight.”
“Did you drink all of that?” I pointed at the bottle.
He made a face and then held up his fingers and then hid it behind his back like I’d somehow forget a fifth was over half gone, and he’d been the only one drinking it.
Something flickered in his gaze, an emotion I knew well.
An emotion I was dealing with right now.
Fear over the future.
Fear for Ash.
And fear that the guys still hadn’t returned from downstairs.
With a sigh, I nodded to Breaker. “Stay with everyone; I’m going to go check on them, all right?”
“Yeah,” Breaker croaked just as Dom made his way into the room, took one look at all the cousins laying around with alcohol, and smiled to himself.
“Make sure nobody dies,” I teased.
My brother grinned. “Babysitting, my favorite.”
“How’d it go?” I asked once I was almost past him.
His eyes flickered away while his jaw clenched. “He was nineteen, had the whole world ahead of him, and was in the foster care system since the age of eight. How do you think it went?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered, “The bosses did wrong by them, Dom.” His gaze froze over, but I had to say my piece. “They were just kids.”
“You have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about, or what hell they were put through. They gave them choice after choice Serena, step off that damn pedestal, and take a look around you. You’re alive because they did the hard thing. Now it’s your turn to do what needs to be done, no matter how bad it hurts.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “And trust me, it hurts all the time.”
I looked away.
“This is your kingdom now,” he murmured. “Yours, Ash’s, Junior’s—but don’t for one second think the bosses won’t take back the keys if you guys go soft.”
“We would never.”
“Then there’s no reason for you to be afraid, is there?” He said in a clipped tone before making his way into the theater room.
Breaker started chanting. “Dom, Dom, Dom.”
And dread filled my stomach as I made my way down the hall and toward the basement.
I stopped when I heard my dad’s hushed voice. He sounded pissed. When I rounded the corner, he barked something else into the phone at his ear. “We’ll talk later, Phoenix. Yeah, okay. You too.”
“Everything okay?” I asked once my dad slid his phone back into the pocket of his black slacks.
“Depends.” My dad relaxed a bit. “How much have you had to drink?”
I rolled my eyes. “I like control; you know this—makes me the worst partier in the world.”
My dad cursed under his breath and then, in a totally uncharacteristic show of weakness, pulled me against his chest and kissed my forehead. “I’ve never been so fucking terrified in my entire life.”