Chapter 20

SPARROW

The quiet, rhythmic purr of the car engine is the only sound between us aside from our steady breathing and the rush of my own pulse in my ears. We've been silently watching the sun disappear for the last half hour, a surreal feeling settling into my bones as the sky gets darker and darker.

I don't know if Xaviaro is simply content with the quiet, already in murder mode, completely focused and waiting to pounce, or if he can sense that my thoughts are too far away to hold a proper conversation right now.

My mind jumps between childhood memories with golden filters over them—a million tiny moments with my brother that I didn't appreciate at the time. Stupid fights and sharing toys, hours spent in shoddily built forts and Keep Outsigns on our bedroom doors, laughing until we nearly pissed ourselves, and crying on each other's shoulders about all the things we couldn't share with anyone else.

I swallow around the lump in my throat, the burn of unshed tears in my eyes making my blood hotter by the second. Rage pulses through my veins like poison, and there's only one way for me to bleed it out for good.

I guess it's not surprising that I've been stuck in memories of my brother all week long, but tonight it's worse than ever. Tonight feels like the funeral Benny never got. It's my chance to finally lay him to rest and give us both peace.

Xaviaro's hand on my thigh startles me out of my thoughts and I loosen my grip on the handle of my dagger. I can't remember pulling it out, but I must have at some point.

"We should be about five minutes out if everything goes to plan. Do you want to go over it one more time?" he offers.

"Sure, Killer. If it'll make you feel better, we can go over it again." I run my thumb absently over the cold steel of the flat surface of the blade, careful not to catch it on the sharpened edge.

"Alright, I just checked in with Romeo, Alessio's solider. He's got eyes on Firefly. He's been holed up in his apartment with a couple of working girls all afternoon, none of his guys know or care where he's at," he says, and I nod.

"When Sal sends a thumbs-up, that's our signal that the packages blew, which means the club will be erupting into chaos." I rattle off the next part. We've gone over it so many times I could recite it all in my sleep, but at least this is giving me something to do to pass the next few minutes.

"Right. You fire off a text to Bass and Shithead or whatever his name is to get them up here," he says, and I snort at the improved moniker.

I let the venom in my veins seep into my grin. "And then all we have to do is wait for them to get their asses here so the fun can start."

"Should only be a ten-minute ride from their clubhouse."

"If that," I say, and then blow out a steadying breath. It's so fucking close I can taste it, but every second that ticks by feels like a goddamn eternity. My muscles quiver and my heart beats faster with the torture of waiting. With an impatient huff, I throw open the passenger door and get out of the car, gulping down a breath of fresh air as my feet hit the dirt.

I pace over to the edge of the ravine a few feet away, and the sound of his car door slamming closed echoes in the otherwise quiet evening. The burble of the flowing river far below is relaxing. It reminds me of a little fountain I used to have on the table in my living room, manufacturing the sounds of nature inside the pristine white walls of an overpriced prison. I turn around and find Xaviaro right behind me.

"There's no point trying to convince you to find some inner peace before they get here, is there?" he asks, studying my face with barely veiled concern.

I shake my head. "Nope. I'm sticking with berserker rage all the way on this one."

"Fair enough. And I promised to hang back and let you have this, but if shit goes sideways, I'm taking the kill shot," he reminds me.

I step close and wrap my arms around him. "I know. It's not going to go sideways though. This is pure karmic justice. The universe owes me this much."

He runs his hand up and down my back, then kisses the top of my head. Pressed up against him, I can feel the vibration of his phone in his pocket, and my pulse skyrockets again. This is it. Xaviaro unfolds his arms from around me and pulls out his phone to check, turning the screen towards me to show me the thumbs-up from Sal.

My hands are shaking with pure adrenaline as I pull the burner phone out of the pocket of my jacket pocket. I typed the message earlier, so all I have to do is hit Send. It was honestly too fucking easy to get Bass and Shit Stain's phone numbers, and just like I expected, their responses to the text are immediate and lacking any suspicion that they're being led into a trap.

"They're on their way," I tell Xaviaro, tucking my phone away again, then striding back towards the car to get the supplies I need.

It's like the fuse of a bomb being lit. All the jittery, unstable energy that's been coursing through me for days solidifies into something with purpose—a sharp, dangerous focus that drowns out everything else. I gather what I need from the trunk and then the two of us melt into the shadows to wait.

In no time at all, the roar of their engines cuts through the night, echoing like thunder to announce their approach. Xaviaro and I share a look, and the ice in his eyes only makes the vengeful fury under my skin burn hotter. My perfect counterbalance. The mate to my inky black soul.

The Shit Brain Brothers roll to a stop in the clearing right near the edge of the ravine. The BMW is parked just out of sight, and neither of the bikers notice us lurking in the shadows as they glance around for Firefly. Xaviaro waits, perfectly still and emotionless like he's waiting for a bus instead of my signal to jump a couple of dudes. My stillness is different—it's far from emotionless, it's simply the calm of the gathering storm.

I hold my breath, feeling the coil of my muscles like a panther about to pounce, tracking their movements as they amble around the clearing, loudly discussing the explosions as they draw closer to our hiding spot, completely unaware. A slight incline of my head is the signal Xaviaro is waiting for. We both spring into action.

Two steps out of the shadows and Shit Stain turns towards the sound of my footsteps. Confusion clouds his expression for a fraction of a second, but I don't give him a chance to work out what's happening before I'm on him, wrapping the bungee cord around his throat and toppling him to the ground in one swift movement.

He yelps and claws at the cord, kicking his feet as I tower over him, planting one foot in the middle of his chest and pulling out my dagger again. The blade glints in the moonlight and his eyes go wide. I spare a quick look over my shoulder to make sure everything went to plan with Big Bass as well. I didn't doubt my man for a second, of course, so I'm not surprised to see him standing over the large man with his snub nose pointed at Bass's head, his foot on the biker's throat.

"What the fuck?" Shit Stain tries to move and I step on him a little harder to keep him in place.

With my free hand, I reach into my other coat pocket and pull out my own phone, opening it to the picture that's been haunting me for too damn long. I stoop down, replacing my foot with my knee, jamming it into Shit Stain's rib cage as I shove the phone into his face.

"Benny LeBlanc. Ring any bells?" I spit the words through clenched teeth. The confusion in his wide eyes only intensifies as he struggles to drag in a deeper breath while I press my weight harder against his chest. He darts a glance towards Bass, then back at me, licking his cracked, dry lips.

"I don't…" He shakes his head, everything in his expression is meant to appease me. I huff out an angry, scoffing laugh.

"No, you probably wouldn't, would you? After all, he was just one in a long fucking line of victims. You get them hooked and then you treat them like your own personal fuck toys because you're all too goddamn disgusting to get laid the right way." I toss my phone to the ground as I hiss the words, shoving the blade of my knife up against his throat.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Big Bass rasps, knowing better than to actually try to struggle against Xaviaro. I look over my shoulder and see him doing the same darty-eyed, panicked thing, looking back and forth between Xaviaro and I, shooting helping glances at his dumbass friend, hoping Shit Stain will come up with some brilliant plan to get them out of this.

"Are you fucking stupid?" I actually do laugh this time. I'm sure Xav's foot is cutting off some oxygen, but come on. This is an open book fucking test at this point. "I just told you. Benny LeBlanc. You fucking assholes abused him, then you watched him overdose, and dumped his fucking body without a care in the world. He didn't matter to you, but he mattered to me." I start out screaming the words at him, but by the end, my tone is just as icy and deadly calm as Xaviaro's expression is.

I'm not going to get the satisfaction of their remorse. They'll never understand what they took from me, but at least I can make them fucking regret it with their final breath.

"Sorry about your boyfriend or whoever he was," Shit Stain starts to babble, clearly going into bargaining mode, hoping there will be some way to talk his way out of the fate he sealed the moment he handed my brother a meth pipe. "We're reasonable. We can make this right. You want money? You want drugs?" he offers. "A custom bike? Tell us, and we can get you anything you want."

I scoff, leaning my weight into my knee, pressing it into his chest until he yelps. "I don't want a goddamn thing…" I push the blade of the knife harder into his throat, my hand completely steady now as everything inside of me turns to pure stone. I lean in closer and whisper the next words menacingly, "...except to watch you bleed." I drag my dagger across his throat before I even finish the sentence.

His eyes go wide and he makes a gurgling sound before his throat splits open and spills a river of crimson blood. My chest heaves, all of the rage and hurt I've carried around since the moment I learned my brother was gone flows out of me and seeps into the soil along with the blood that pours from Shit Stain's open wound.

In my peripheral, I'm aware of the way Big Bass starts to flail, attempting to get out from under Xaviaro's foot, in spite of the gun pointed at his face. Xaviaro barely budges, waiting like the Queen's Guard for my next instruction.

When Shit Stain stops twitching and his eyes glaze over lifelessly, I get to my feet. I brush the dirt off of my jeans and take notice of how slow and even my heartbeat is. The storm that's been battering at me from the inside since the moment Benny fell in with the Reapers has finally quieted. The hurt and anger are still there, but they're different than they were. I take a breath and it feels like it fills my lungs properly for the first time in ages.

I meet Xaviaro's gaze, his expression nothing but the same steadying calm that's been centering me since we met. I jerk my chin towards the edge of the ravine and he nods, easing up his foot from Big Bass's throat. The man scrambles to flee, but Xav catches him before he's even fully back on his feet, wrapping an arm around his throat and squeezing tightly.

"Walk," Xaviaro growls low in Bass's ear.

When they reach the ledge, Xaviaro releases his grip, letting the man teeter on the edge for a moment. Bass windmills his arms, looking over the edge into the dark, seemingly bottomless drop-off. He shifts his weight, rocks and dirt dislodging and crumbling under his feet as he tries to step back, to put distance between himself and his inescapable fate. But Xaviaro is right behind him, looming like the silent, deadly threat he is.

I close the distance between us in a few strides, coming up on Bass from the side. He darts his attention between the two of us, looking over my shoulder at the lifeless body of his friend behind me. His eyes tighten after a moment, narrowing as he sets his jaw in angry defiance. He's not going to die begging the way Shit Stain did. I can respect that. But it's not going to change the outcome.

"Say his name," I bark, thrusting my bloodied dagger towards him, pointing the blade at the spot where I can see his pulse fluttering in his meaty throat. "Benny LeBlanc. Fucking say it."

"Like it's my fucking fault he was a meth head?" Bass scoffs. "I don't hunt people down to get them hooked. They come to us. They beg for our dicks too. I don't remember your boyfriend or whoever the fuck he was, but he probably died with a smile on his slutty, junkie face."

The rage is back, red and pulsing, throbbing through my veins. I step closer and for all his taunting and vibrato, Bass flinches.

"Say his name and I'll let you go," I lie, layering a veil of sweetness over the murder in my tone. "Benny LeBlanc," I prompt again. "Say it."

"Benny LeBlanc," Big Bass mutters my brother's name through clenched teeth. He doesn't deserve to even have Benny's name on his lips, but I want them to be the last words he ever utters.

"Do it," I say flatly. I was so set on pulling the trigger, but it doesn't matter. Either way, he's going to end up in the same place, and none of it is going to bring Benny back. I knew that going in, but having it over just solidifies that reality.

Big Bass opens his mouth like he's planning to remind me that I promised to let him go. As if a broken promise is the worst thing any of us have ever done. Xaviaro doesn't hesitate. A single loud pop rings through the air and Bass crumples, falling over the side of the ravine and splashing into the dark waters below.

I blow out a trembling breath and Xaviaro tucks his gun away. He pulls out a fresh white handkerchief and hands it to me. I look down at the blood on my hands and let out a humorless chuckle.

"I still think it would have been funny to make them dig their own graves," I mutter as I wipe myself clean, or at least as clean as I'll get without a proper shower.

"It would've taken all night though. And who do you think has to fill the graves back in once these fuckers are dead?" He rehashes the same argument he used on me when I brought up the idea the first time a few nights ago.

"Yeah, yeah." I wave a hand dismissively and he strides over to sweep me up into his arms.

I yelp with surprise and then laugh as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist.

"How are you feeling?" The cold detachment from a few minutes ago is gone now. He studies my face with softness in his eyes, his arms tight around me.

"I'm fine, you marshmallow," I tease, bringing my lips to his but stopping short of a kiss. "I think it's just fully hitting me that Benny is really gone."

He bridges the last half inch and presses his lips against mine. I smile into the kiss, letting the heavy feelings in my chest unravel and float away on the breeze. Eventually, we break the kiss and he sets me back down.

"Let me toss this fucker and then I say we go home and take a steaming hot shower," he says, and I groan blissfully.

"Yes, please."

XAVIARO

Sparrow is quiet during the drive home. It's not the same stunned quiet that he wore after shit went down with Riff Raff. It's more quiet and contemplative. When we get up to my apartment, I send a text to Enzo that simply says "Done"so he'll know everything is handled on our end.

Whatever happens with the Sleepless Reapers from here remains to be seen, but Sparrow has his closure, and that was my main priority tonight. Enzo's response is a simple thumbs-up. Tomorrow we'll have a meeting to debrief on how things went with the rest of the plan, but as far as the rest of tonight goes, I'm officially off the clock for a few hours.

I set my phone down on my dresser as Sparrow and I enter the bedroom and reach up to loosen my tie. But he finally seems to come out of his deep thoughts, shooting me a playful warning look and batting my hand away so he can do it himself.

"Everything go off without a hitch with the cook houses?" he asks as he loosens the knot and then slides my tie off of my neck before starting in on my buttons.

"Everything's good," I answer, because I'm sure it is. If anyone knows how to blow shit up, it's Sal. Buildings, cars, his own relationships, he can do it all without breaking a sweat.

His fingers brush over my bare skin as he exposes it inch by inch, raising goose bumps and stoking the heat that always simmers in my gut whenever he's near. We fall into an unhurried kiss while I help him out of his clothes. My cock swells as he tangles his tongue around mine, but I ignore it, too fixated on the breathy sounds Sparrow feeds me and the way he relaxes against my body to care about anything else.

Eventually, we stumble into the bathroom, breaking the kiss just long enough for me to turn on the shower, cranking the knob as hot as we can both stand it.

Tonight wasn't just the end of a chapter for Sparrow, it was the end of an entire fucking obsession. What if he's not the same person now it's over? That question has kept me awake for the last two nights, watching him sleep while I waited for the axe to fall.

I turn back towards him and Sparrow is already right behind me, ready to claim the space between my arms that has never belonged to anyone else. He steals another kiss before pushing me backward into the shower and following me in.

"Hey, maybe I could be a hitman. I'm pretty good at it now."

"Uh…" I stumble over a polite way to tell him that the last thing he should be is a hitman. But apparently my lack of answer is loud and clear, because he scoffs and playfully twists my nipple, dragging a moan from my throat.

"Fine, I won't step on your toes. Clearly you're not up for the competition." He sniffs.

"Yeah, that's it," I agree diplomatically, reaching for the bodywash and filling my hand with it. He hums and sags against me as I start to massage the suds into his skin, tilting his head so I can get his shoulders. I lean in and press a kiss to the sparrow tattoo on the side of his neck.

"It was Benny's favorite bird," he says. "When we were little, a sparrow made a nest in the tree right outside our bedroom window and he spent weeks waiting for the eggs to hatch and then watching the baby birds until they got big enough to leave the nest." His voice is soothing, echoing off the tiled walls in a somber tone as I continue to work the lather over his wet skin. "They're aggressive little birds, did you know that? And unlike most birds, they can change their tune, they don't always stick to the exact same melody."

"Sounds like the perfect bird for you." I kiss his tattoo again and he lets out a throaty chuckle.

"I guess it is," he says. "I thought I would feel different now that everything is over, but I think this whole thing changed me right down to my bones."

"I like this version of you, little bird." I cup his face in one hand, tilting it up towards mine.

"I think I do too. Dark and twisted isn't always a bad thing."

"On you, my Sparrow, dark and twisted is absolutely beautiful."

"So, what happens now?" he asks, echoing my earlier thoughts.

"Happily ever after?" I know it's naively optimistic of me, but I'm long overdue for a little of that, aren't I? It's not too much to hope that this end is really just the start of something, is it?

He tilts his head up, resting his chin in the middle of my chest, a smile stretching over his lips.

"Do killers get happy endings?"

I drag my thumb along the shape of his lips, memorizing them like I plan to every day for the rest of our lives. "We can have whatever we want, Little Sparrow."

"And we'll whack whoever tries to tell us otherwise?" he teases in a bad Italian accent.

I snort with amusement, dipping my head to bring my mouth close to his again. "Exactly," I murmur, bumping our noses together.

"Sounds pretty damn good to me."

It sounds perfect.