Savage Queen (The Dark Elite 3)

His demons will always chase him no matter what, for the rest of his life, but that’s why he has each of us. Me. Hale. The twins. We’re all here for him, and we’ll fight by his side anytime the darkness in him becomes too much.

Hale’s grip gives my thigh a quick squeeze before letting go and turning his attention to the men gathered around the table. He rests his elbows on the dark, polished wood and leans forward a little, and the room goes silent.

“We have cause for celebration today,” Hale says, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Even he has changed in the past several months, healing in his own way. The transition into leading the Novak Syndicate was hard on him, guilt and pain at his father’s death making it difficult for him to fully accept the role. But now, he sits in the place of honor at the head of the table as if he was born to occupy that seat—which I think even Damian Novak would agree, he was.

This is his birthright.

His responsibility.

And he carries it well.

“The last members of the Rook Syndicate have been rooted out and are currently in holding,” he announces, and I catch Zaid and Lucas smirking.

It was intel the twins found that helped us track down the final holdouts of the mafia organization my mother built. They were trying to rebuild it, probably hoping to pick up where Camilla left off, but we’ll make sure that never happens.

There will be other upstarts who try to seize more power than they should. There will be other organizations that challenge us. But the Rooks and all that they stand for?

They’re done.

The trafficking ring fell apart after the FBI bust. I was right—it was a huge coup for Agent Brady, and more than enough to satisfy his agency, at least for the time being. It made national news, my mother’s face splashed across headlines. I spoke to Lucy briefly in the aftermath, just long enough to make sure she was okay and to thank her for helping us expose Camilla’s operation.

“Every day,” Hale continues, his tone serious, “we’re getting closer to returning the Novak name to what it once was in Chicago. We honor the memory of my father by pursuing the goals he laid out for this syndicate. But we won’t stop there. We will become bigger. Better. Stronger and safer. Feared by our enemies, but just as importantly—respected by our allies.”

There’s a chorus of agreement, several men nodding their heads.

“That being said.” Hale chuckles. “There’s a group that’s been encroaching on our new territory in Humboldt Park. We’re still securing that area, so it’s important to squash their effort to get a toe-hold there.” He turns to me, warmth shining in his dark blue eyes. “Grace, do you have any thoughts?”

In spite of myself, a smile pulls at my lips.

This is another one of the ways that things have changed in the past several months. Not only have I found my place within the syndicate and with the four men I love, but Hale has openly offered me a seat at the table—a share in everything, including his power.

Even Damian’s old captains have learned to respect me, despite the hatred they once felt for my family. My father has been exonerated, the resentment and anger that was once directed at him transferred entirely to the person who deserves it.

Camilla.

I once told her I’m not like her. That I would never want to be like her.

In some respects, I guess you could say I am like my mother. I was born to play the role of mafia queen, born to give orders and flex power.

Once I knew that Hale welcomed me by his side, I fell into the role very easily. The life I built for myself in Washington, the suburban home I hoped to have with Brian? All of that always felt like an act, like a costume I was wearing that didn’t fit quite right.

But here, at the head of this large table, seated beside the men who stole me from that fake life, I feel completely comfortable. At ease.

As if I was born for this just as much as Hale was.

I pull my gaze away from his and address my answer to all of the men gathered around. “They need to get the message that this territory is ours, clearly. But since it’s still a disputed area, maybe we can make a deal with them. Give them rights to carry out their business with a small kickback to us, in exchange for their help in protecting the territory.”

“I like that,” Zaid offers, grinning at me. “We could always take them on directly later if we need to, but this keeps things nice and civil and helps us solidify power in that area. Win-win.”

A few other men speak up, offering their opinions and thoughts as we formulate a plan and discuss details.

As the meeting wraps up, Hale stands and straightens his jacket, offering me a hand. I take it with a knowing smile, and he pulls it to his lips, kissing my knuckles smoothly.

“Ready to go home?” he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips over the shell of my ear.

Ciro steps up behind me, encasing my body between his and Hale’s. I love the possessive familiarity of his touch as his hand comes to rest on my hip.