Chapter Four

Gray and I headed back to the hut. Gray entered first and disappeared from view for a couple of minutes. The low rumble of mumbling carried over to me before Gray reappeared. When he gave me a nod, I followed him inside. Bean, Kurt, Richie, Roland, and Gunnar sat around a rustic wooden table, bottles of beer in front of them. All of their eyes followed me as I sank down on a vacant chair.

“You have balls coming here after what you did. And I thought the Vitiello princess has your balls in her hands,” Bean said, flashing me a grin, revealing his missing front tooth. Earl had smashed it in and forbidden Bean from having it replaced. He was supposed to keep the gap as a reminder. Shortly after, Bean had become a Nomad, maybe two years ago.

“She does on occasion,” I said with a shrug.

“You sure she hasn’t cut them off?” Richie asked.

I nodded at a full bottle. “Can I have one? Listening to bullshit talk makes me thirsty.”

Gunnar stifled a grin and handed me the bottle. “Go ahead. But we both know you aren’t here for pleasantries or rebuilding old connections, right, Mad?”

“I want to make one thing clear, I don’t have anything against anyone at this table. I’m not out for anyone’s head unless they are out for mine or Marcella’s. So if you don’t intend to hurt my woman or me, I won’t fuck you up.”

Richie put down his bottle with unnecessary force. “It’s six against one, Mad. You got a big mouth on you thinking you’d survive if you went against us. You aren’t even armed.”

“I could take you. Most of you have lived the lazy life these last few years.” I paused because I wasn’t arrogant enough to think I could really beat all of them at once. “And who says I’m alone. Remember, I work with the mob now.”

Roland chuckled. “Some of those Italians seem to want you dead too, Mad. Not sure you’ve chosen the right side.”

“And who are they? I hear you talked to the people who want me dead.”

“Not me personally. I don’t go anywhere near Vitiello’s men.”

Gunnar squinted down at his bottle. I narrowed my eyes. “You did?”

He sighed. “I ran across the giant boy a day or so after my escape. I was still not quite myself and was stupid enough to hide in one of our old warehouses. The hit on my head really messed me up.”

“Giant boy? You mean Amo?”

Gunnar nodded. “Yep. The boy caught up with me with another guy, and I was sure they’d end me right there, the little shits, but instead Amo told me about how you killed Earl and were out for more Tartarus heads.”

“And you didn’t have anything better to do than spread the word?”

Gunnar glared. “You don’t expect my loyalty, do you? I was royally pissed, especially in the first days when I had the headache of my life and didn’t know you’d made sure Gray got out alive. I only told one or two guys but it obviously spread from there. But I wouldn’t be surprised if the Vitiello boy told a few more bikers. He seems to hold a grudge against you.”

“He probably doesn’t like the idea of you sinking your ugly cock into his sister’s mouth and pussy,” Bean said with a laugh.

I punched him. He cried out and held his mouth. Several guns were pointed at me.

I raised my palms. “Don’t insult my woman.”

Roland shook his head. “You’re trying to make the impossible possible, Mad. Take my advice, leave the Vitiellos as long as you still can. It’s better to live with the memory of a few nights with the spoiled princess than to die the moment she loses interest in you.”

Everyone nodded.

“Maybe she enjoyed the wild ride of being with a biker but eventually she’ll pick one of her people,” Gunnar said.

“I didn’t come here for relationship advice, especially from you guys. I wanted information and I got it, so thanks.” I got up. “Are you going to rebuild Tartarus?”

Roland and Gunnar exchanged a look. “Once we find a prez.”

Gray opened his mouth but closed it again and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Good luck then,” I said, getting up. “I should head back now.”

“Back to the Italians?” Bean asked with a scoff.

“Back to my woman.”

I squeezed Gray’s shoulder. “Call me if you need my help, all right?” Gray met my gaze then nodded. I hoped he’d really take me up on my offer. “And visit Mom now and then. She worries.”

Gunnar got up and followed me out of the hut. “You have more enemies than friends at this point, Mad. Make sure you know who’s who. You belong here. I hope it won’t take you too long to realize it. We could use a clever leader like you to build up what’s broken.”

I smiled tightly. “You’ll do fine without me.”

I turned and returned to my bike. I couldn’t deny it. I wasn’t sure if I wouldn’t miss this way of living. The sense of uninhibited freedom, the brotherhood as it used to be in the first years of me becoming a member of Tartarus. I didn’t know much about the life of the Famiglia and what I knew seemed filled with old-fashioned traditions and hypocritical rules. I wasn’t sure if I could fit in there but I would try for Marcella.

But first, before I could even think about working with the Famiglia, much less try to fit in with the Vitiellos, I needed to have a serious word with Amo fucking Vitiello.

To distract me from what had happened, Mom took me out on a girl’s spa day. She’d made last minute appointments in our favorite hair salon, nail studio, and day spa.

“It’ll be like before. You’ll forget all your worries,” Mom said with a kind smile.

But it wasn’t, and I didn’t. We didn’t go into the front entrance like in the past, we sneaked in through the staff entrance at the back, with our hoodies up over our heads like criminals to avoid curious eyes.

By now the press had caught wind of my rescue and since Dad’s lawyer had only released a very short, uneventful statement the speculations were skyrocketing. After the leaked video of me naked, everyone in the country had been talking about my kidnapping. Keeping it hush-hush had been impossible, even for Dad, and now everyone wanted to know as much about my return as possible.

One of our bodyguards chased off a paparazzi hiding behind the trash bins, smashing his no-doubt expensive camera and tossing it back at the man who scurried away. Dad’s lawyer would probably have to handle this too.

Mom squeezed my hand and smiled when we finally took off our hoodies inside of the day spa. It smelled of lemongrass and mint inside the lobby, a familiar scent. I’d lost count of the times Mom and I had spent a girl’s day here.

“Eventually the press and everyone else will forget what happened, Marci. They’ll lose interest. We’ll just have to lay low for a while.”

“You mean hide.”

Mom gave me an uncertain look.

May, one of the staff, came over to us. She was smiling like she always did, but I caught the curiosity in her eyes. She, too, knew what had happened.

Forgetting what happened proved difficult.

I’d started to relax when my hairdresser asked me to remove my earring so she could properly wash my hair for the intense hydration and gloss treatment.

“She can’t,” Mom interfered in a firm voice. “You’ll just have to be more careful.”

I swallowed my own reply, but I couldn’t relax again.

The next incident occurred when May did my nails. They were partly broken off and my fingertips were bloody in parts. I could see the questions in her eyes even if she didn’t ask any. Mom kept throwing worried glances our way, which didn’t scream normalcy either.

The final straw was our massage appointment.

“Take off your clothes and make yourself comfortable,” May said in her usual singsong voice.

I began to peel off the bathrobe I’d put on at the beginning of our spa day, but Mom touched my hand, stopping me, her eyes alarmed. “Maybe we’ll skip the back massages today and only do our legs,” she said to May.

It took me a moment to realize why. Because of the tattoo on my back.

May froze and so did I. I lowered my hand, leaving the bathrobe on. May did as Mom had said and only massaged our calves and feet, which was great as usual, but I couldn’t enjoy a single moment.

I was silent on our way home and even when we entered the mansion. Dad was there, probably because Mom had messaged him.

He kissed my temple. “Maybe you should stay inside for a couple of weeks.”

“I don’t want to hide. I did nothing wrong,” I snapped.

“Of course, you didn’t,” Mom said. “You know that’s not why we protect you from the public. But you know how people are.”

“They want gossip,” Dad growled. “They need to go looking elsewhere.”

“I won’t hide,” I said finally. “They’ll make up their own stories if I don’t tell them my version. The more I hide, the more they think I have something to hide, and hiding something suggests guilt. I won’t hide!”

Dad smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “All right. What do you suggest?”

“The soirée at Mayor Stein’s in a couple of weeks, I want to attend it. And I won’t sneak into buildings through the back or wear hoodies to cover my face. If the paparazzi want a photo of me, they’ll get it—on my terms, like it used to be.”

“They’ll try to catch you unexpectedly and vulnerable. Maybe take a shot of your ear or tattoo,” Mom said gently. Always trying to protect me.

I shrugged. “I know the game. I’ve played it for years and they never got anything I didn’t want them to get. I have no intention of changing that now. They’ll get to see my tattoo once it’s altered the way I want it, and my ear…” I paused. The obvious blemish bothered me, I couldn’t deny it. For someone who’d always strived for perfection, and who had been praised for her perfect beauty, it was a challenge to be ripped of it. But I was also proud of the mark, because it showed what I’d survived. “I won’t hide the ear, not always. I’ll carry the mark like Made Men carry their scars, with pride and as a sign that there are things in life worth suffering for.”

“I’ve never been prouder of you than I am now,” Dad murmured.

Mom kissed my forehead.

I knew they both still worried about me becoming part of the Famiglia, about submitting myself to even more danger, but that they were proud of the woman I was becoming meant the world to me.