Fallen Royal (Mafia Royals 4)

See? I can’t anymore.

Phoenix is sitting next to him, buzzed hair close to his head, a Phoenix ring on his pointer finger as he twirls the whiskey glass in front of him, and he’s basically in all black except a red tie.

Did they fucking color coordinate?

“Son…” Dad still has a slight Russian accent he definitely didn’t pass down to me; he’s smirking like he knows what I’m about to ask or say. Phoenix leans in too.

“She’s staying here,” I say it plainly, quickly. “It’s the safest place, and if you guys both don’t stop smiling, I’m going to drink all the whiskey and replace it with root beer. Who’ll be laughing then?”

“Worst day of his life.” Dad elbows Phoenix, who gives him a grimace.

How they’re natural killers can boggle the mind, then again, as quick as they joke, the switch flips.

“Son of a bitch, Junior!” Serena yells, stomping into the room. “It’s an Instagram account I follow! I’m not cheating.”

“Oh, great.” Ash sits down next to me. “That Abandonato temper.” He shakes his head.

“You do remember your last name?” Phoenix asks.

“Just like you remember yours.” Ash winks. I know he’s teasing, but it’s a fucking sore spot. Phoenix was given the Nicolasi line. He’s technically a De Lange, what used to be the most hated Family of them all.

Chase decided to just straight up cleanse the line but save the kids, which is kind of where all of our stories start. They came to Eagle Elite, Ash decided to give them a chance, and for the last two years, we’ve been victims of attempted killings, bombings, death threats, and car crashes.

Super fun if you ask me.

Honestly though, we know at this point it’s not them trying to infiltrate or attack us; if anything, they’re so thankful we’re letting them into the fold they’d lay down in the middle of the road and close their eyes while we played chicken.

I like most of them. At this point, we had about fifteen of them at Eagle Elite running recon, making sure the University owned by the mafia runs smoothly, and they’re doing a kickass job.

Yet again, doesn’t mean it still makes Phoenix feel warm fuzzies, long history there, long history. The guy literally cut the Family crest from his body.

Dad kicks Ash under the table. “Show some respect.”

Ash smiles. “Sorry, Drei.”

Dad hates that nickname.

So Ash uses it on a daily basis.

“So hungry.” Annie sits down next to Ash or attempts to, but he pulls her into his lap.

And here we go.

Things don’t get better as Junior and Serena finish their fight and start kissing, mere feet away from her dad Nixon.

Phoenix moves to stand.

Dad puts his hand on his shoulder.

Let’s just say with all the tension, killings, and new relationships, things have been ridiculously tense.

I shudder to think what would happen if they knew about me.

If anyone but Chase found out.

I suddenly want to down the entire fifth in front of my dad and Phoenix. I grab a glass and pour.

“How’s school?” Dad asks. “You’ve been gone a lot, quiet.”

Phoenix’s creepy blue eyes are watching me, watching my body language, my breathing, the way I swallow.

Shit, he’s a human lie detector, so I stay as close to the truth as I can. “I miss Izzy.”

Okay, so I tell the truth.

“And?”

“And I swear I won’t mess things up with her here,” I say truthfully. “I just can’t lose her.”

“Okay.” Dad nods his head. “Okay.”

I exhale in relief and reach for my glass of whiskey when Phoenix pipes up. “What are you afraid of, Maks?”

I freeze. “Sorry?”

“Your eyes,” he says, sipping his drink. “They’re different… what are you afraid of?”

I go for honesty here too, because there’s really no use in lying. “Death,” I finally say.

My dad looks shocked. Phoenix doesn’t.

“Not the dying part, but leaving behind those I love the most. It’s what keeps me up at night.” I force a smile. “You know, normal mafia kid stuff.”

Phoenix looks away.

Guess the whole questioning is over with.

But my appetite is gone.

I’m shaking again.

I excuse myself amidst the chaos and wonder if they would really miss me? I had a huge family—we were loyalty, blood, destruction, war.

Would they miss one more assassin? One more soldier?

I walk into my room to strip for a shower and end up going to the stairway and then the private pool on the outskirts of the property; it’s more lake than pool with a few bridges, paddleboards, and a special area where you can think.

Dad built it for me when I was young, said every boy needed a place to think, so we called it my thinking rock.

I wrote my name on it every summer; it was a boulder stuck in about two feet of water from the man-made hot springs, it had little blue and white lights around it.

Peaceful, it was peaceful.