Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗥ueben stood in the bedroom cabin of his father's jet with his back to the door, face slack at the window. Arms folded over his chest, he breathed evenly and counted the clouds, admired their cotton-pulled shapes, and wondered if there were truly some higher being in this world. Questioning if his soul was worth saving, or if it was too dirty with blood that didn't belong to him—too calloused with actions and foreboding tasks that had been groomed in him.
The plane tilted, swaying through the faded pink sunset, caught in a thick turbulence he could only see as a sign of his inquisition rather than a nuisance. He refused to let it be one.
Life lately had been all about nuisances to him.
His words. His path. His direction. His demeanor.
They were all hopelessly linked to one person, and without her guiding hands, her smooth imperfections, and her shiny, white smiles, it was like he was a detached anchor, slowly falling deeper and deeper into the open sea.
Suffocating underneath the unexplored depths.
Scraping at oxygen bubbles trapped with him beneath the pressure.
It had taken two days they could not afford to come up with a plan and convince Jase and Matteo to join him and Kaedyn's side for one last rendezvous. Back-and-forth arguments concocted out of facts and fear had almost forced his hand—almost brought Rueben to leave them alone in the States without a departing word. He'd needed men who were willing to risk it all for his team, his lover, the people who hadn't hesitated months ago.
He didn't need pussy-ass men too scared of circumstance.
Trailing them, on a second jet, sat a finished squad of over fifty mafia agents, all armed and ready to lay their lives down for the interim mafia heir. Rueben had dreamed of reaching this day—of reaching the night in which he'd finally earn peace for the family he created over the years. But now that it was here, now that he was staring at tangible shades of cotton candy, he couldn't help but feel the slickness of his sweaty palms and the weight of his holstered weapons.
He pondered how many would die.
He knew he didn't truly care because this was Rayne.
"Hey," his thoughts were interrupted.
Rueben lifted a brow and half-heartedly glanced over his shoulder at the person who'd stepped into his space. Dressed in black from head to toe, equipped with a military-grade bullet-proof vest and multiple concealed and open weapons was Matteo. Muscles he'd been training since he was rescued built mountains over his biceps as he copied his stance and crossed his arms.
Hard lines in his jaw.
Tilted emotions in the crease of his nose.
Matteo was as guarded as ever.
"Hello," he responded, looking away.
His red-headed best friend had been too much to deal with over the last weeks. Whether it was getting him to understand that his sister had paused and ruined her life for him, or if it was trying to coax his head out from the asshole it was shoved in, he had been nothing more than a headache. Rueben never knew he'd see the day Matteo chose to duck and hide rather than run and fight.
