Grant barked out another small laugh, but it was sharp and bitter, not amused. “He's not just forgotten. Hell, he’s rewriting history. When he didn’t have the guts to sit at Marceline’s table, when no one with power gave a damn about him, we were the ones beside him. We followed him then. Not Dave. Us.”Kane’s jaw tightened, the bitterness in his voice plain. “And the least he could do now is listen. We’ve earned that much. But he doesn’t, not if Dave the ass kisser wants to do things another way. Who the hell is Dave anyway compared to us? We’ve been around longer than that kid’s been alive.”Oliver said nothing for a moment as he drew on his cigarette, filling his lungs before blowing another plume into the air. His silence weighed heavier than words. “He’s not respecting the code. He’s treating us like green boys fresh off the street, not the doyens we are. Even criminals follow something to keep things working. We all have a line we're not supposed to cross. And he’s crossing it.”
The meeting had ended in the only way Casillas ever allowed it to, with his voice thundering louder than reason. Grant had opened his mouth once more, trying to argue that betraying Marceline wasn’t the best course of action, but Casillas didn’t let him finish. With a sharp snarl, he cut him off, declaring the meeting over. His words weren’t a suggestion but a command, and though the men pushed back their chairs and rose, none of them moved quickly to leave.Grant, in particular, lingered, his eyes fixed on Casillas in open displeasure. The stare was bold, dangerously so, but Grant didn’t blink. Casillas caught the defiance in the man’s face and felt his temper flare. With an ugly twist of his lips, he barked at all of them to get out, his voice like a whip cracking through the room.That broke the silence. Chairs scraped back, footsteps shuffled, and the men began filing toward the door. But as the first of them reached the hallway, Casillas lifted a hand and called out sharply, “Dav
Casillas The whiskey burned slow as it slid down my throat, the kind of burn I liked because it kept me steady and sharp. I swirled the glass lazily, watching the amber liquid catch the light while Oliver droned on about our routes. His voice carried the weight of bad news, and I knew it before he even spat it out. “Our southern run was hit a few days ago,” he said, his eyes lowered. “Law enforcement set up an ambush, and we lost the shipment.” I tilted my glass and let the burn linger on my tongue before swallowing, the taste turning sour in my mouth. A muscle ticked in my jaw, but I didn’t interrupt. That route wasn’t just any line. It was the one tied to Bonafide, the one Marceline and I split the cut from. Bonafide’s dealings had always been steady profit. Losing a stream like that was irritating. I let my mouth curl in distaste, though I stayed silent. My phone on the table started to buzz. All seven men turned their eyes toward it like dogs scenting meat. I looked at
SusannaSomething didn’t add up. The way Conrad skimmed over certain parts, the way his gaze slid away all gave me the distinct feeling that there was more to the story that he wasn’t telling me.I set my chocolates aside, wiping a trace of melted cocoa from my fingers onto the napkin beside me."So what’s the plan now?" I asked.His eyes met mine then, and his sigh this time was heavier. "Mother hasn’t contacted me," he said slowly, "but I have my own ideas on how to help her." There was a beat of silence. "I’m hoping it’s something you will be able to help me with."And just like that, whatever comfort that had been growing in my chest over the last few minutes turned to ash. I felt it drop, heavy and cold, somewhere deep in my stomach.Why else would he be here? It wasn’t loneliness. It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t even an obligation. No, Conrad was here because he needed something. Because Conrad only ever remembered I existed when I was useful.I took the napkin I had been holding an
SusannaI stared harder, my heart skipping before I could stop it. The flowers were clutched close, the kind of unnecessary gesture that seemed so unlike him these days.But then I exhaled sharply and shook my head. No. That wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Conrad hadn’t been here in so long I had stopped bothering to count the days. I doubted he even remembered I existed, not unless my name came up on one of his bills. The man I had given so much love and devotion to had paid me back with neglect, distancing himself more with every passing week.It was really laughable that my brain would even try to conjure him from the shape of a stranger.The realization annoyed me. More than that, it embarrassed me. I pinched the inside of my arm, hard enough to make myself wince. “Foolish girl,” I muttered under my breath. The sting was a punishment for my own stupidity. If there was one thing I had learned in here, it was that it was better to smother the thought before it could take root.I turne
SusannaI was sitting in the corner of my room pressed into the seat by the window, my eyes fixed on the world outside the window bars. People watching had become my main pastime, not because I liked it, but because it was better than staring at my own hands, or worse, my own reflection. Most days felt the same: terribly lonely, and suffocatingly boring.Florence had come in earlier this morning for her usual check-up. She had tried to coax me into going to the hospital common room, waxing monotone about some new romance series that was premiering this afternoon. I had refused without even pretending to think about it.The thought alone made me sick. I couldn’t stand to see the faces out there, smooth, and untouched, smug in their perfection.The worst were the women, their skin glowing like it had never even heard of a scar. I would rather sit here in silence than subject myself to that kind of torture.My aversion to intact faces had only gotten worse over time. I hated them all. Ev