Chapter 32

THIRTY-TWO

SALEM

T he soft light filtering through the curtains gently illuminated my room, my senses gradually returning as I woke. Stretching my tired muscles, I winced at the soreness that lingered from Mateo fucking me well into the early hours of the morning.

With a yawn, I extended my arms above my head, aiming to alleviate some of the stiffness. But as I moved, my left hand became entangled in my hair. Frowning in confusion, I tugged gently, dislodging my hand. As I brought it back down, I caught sight of something glinting on my ring finger.

There it sat, a stunning ring unlike anything I had ever seen before. What the actual fuck. A massive blood-red diamond, shaped like a tear, was positioned prominently in the center, flanked by two smaller black diamonds on either side of the band. Its beauty was mesmerizing, but its presence on my finger left me utterly perplexed.

I racked my brain, trying to recall any recent events that might explain the mysterious appearance of the ring. And then it hit me—Mateo's words from last night echoed in my mind, and a wry smile formed on my lips.

"That cheeky bastard," I muttered under my breath, a mixture of amusement and incredulity coloring my tone.

Lost in thought, I traced the intricate design of the ring with my fingertips, marveling at its craftsmanship.

But even as I admired it, questions swirled in my mind. What the fuck was Mateo playing at? Was it a symbol of commitment, a declaration of love? It better not mean what I thought it did.

With a sigh, I realized that I could spend hours pondering the significance of the ring. But for now, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Pushing aside the covers, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, pulled the ring from my finger, and placed it on the bedside table.

I made my way from my bedroom to the kitchen. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of bustling activity greeted me. Remington and Fallon were already seated at the table, sipping their coffees while Lennox casually perused the morning newspaper.

Cohen, shirtless as usual, was at the stove, a cloud of steam rising from the pot as he cooked up something delicious. Cole and Mateo were engrossed in the task of cutting up fruit and arranging it neatly on a plate.

I joined them at the island bench, helping myself to a juicy raspberry from the bowl in front of me. The burst of flavor was a welcomed distraction, but it was short-lived as Mateo's voice cut through the chatter.

"Where is your ring?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as they locked onto mine. Instantly, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted, and I felt everyone's gaze upon me.

The room was silent as I searched for the right words to say. But before I could respond, the others chimed in, their curiosity piqued by Mateo's question.

"What ring?" Cohen asked, turning away from the stove to join the conversation, his eyebrows raised in confusion. Remington's lips twitched in a barely concealed smile while Lennox set his newspaper aside, clearly intrigued by the sudden turn of events.

I could feel the tension mounting with each passing second, the question hanging in the air. It was a question that demanded an answer. But it was one that I wasn't quite prepared to give.

With a practiced calm, Mateo raised an eyebrow at me, waiting patiently for my reply. The longer I attempted to formulate a response, the more his expression hardened, a flicker of challenge in his eyes. Without another word, he turned and made his way out of the room, leaving me to grapple with everyone's stares.

The sound of his footsteps faded into the distance, and a heavy silence settled over the kitchen. I could feel everyone's questions bearing down on me, their eyes still fixed on my face, waiting for an explanation.

But try as I might, I couldn't find the words to articulate what the fuck was happening. Instead, I offered a weak smile, hoping to deflect their attention away from the awkwardness of the moment.

"It's nothing," I said, my voice just audible.

This response seemed to satisfy them, albeit temporarily, and conversation gradually resumed as everyone returned to their respective tasks.

Cole slid a steaming mug of coffee in my direction, a small gesture that warmed me despite my unease.

I moved around the island to join him, instinctively reaching for a knife to help him finish cutting up the remaining fruit. I has just begun to relax into the rhythmic motion of slicing through the ripe flesh when Mateo strode back into the room, his expression fierce. With a swift motion, he slid the ring across the counter toward me, his eyes burning with intensity. "Put it back on," he demanded, his voice brooking no argument.

Something inside me rebelled against his order, a stubborn defiance rising up to meet his challenge. I pushed the ring back toward him and shook my head firmly. "No," I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.

Mateo's gaze hardened, his jaw clenching. With a swift movement, he pushed the ring back toward me again, his voice low and commanding. "Put it on, Salem," he insisted, his eyes boring into mine.

Before I could protest further, Cole intervened, seizing the ring before I could slide it back again. His brows furrowed in confusion as he examined the intricate design, a puzzled frown crossing his features. "Wait, is this an engagement ring?" he asked, his voice shaded with disbelief.

Everyone turned to await my response. "No," I interjected simultaneously with Mateo, his voice resolute and steadfast.

"Yes," he asserted firmly, his eyes fixed on mine with unyielding intensity.

The room fell silent, shock and confusion rippling through the air. Lennox was the first to break the stunned silence, his voice incredulous as he echoed the sentiment of everyone present. "What?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with disbelief.

In an instant, the kitchen was thrown into chaos, the air buzzing with a cacophony of questions and exclamations.

Everyone turned to Mateo, demanding answers.

"Please explain!" Cohen insisted, his voice cutting through the air like a knife.

Cole's brows furrowed in bewilderment. "Mateo?" he exclaimed in shock.

Lennox's expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. "What the fuck, Mateo?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

Fallon's lips parted in surprise, her eyes darting between Mateo and me. "I don't understand," she murmured, her voice almost whispered.

"No," I replied, my voice soft. "We're not getting married."

Mateo's expression softened, a small smile edging his lips as he met my gaze. "I know," he said before gesturing to each of my men. "We're getting married."

I stared at him in disbelief, my mind reeling at his words. "What?" I demanded, voicing a touch of hysteria.

Mateo chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he explained, "This isn't just about you and me, sweetheart. It's from all of us." He gestured to himself, Cole, Cohen, and Lennox.

Confusion washed over me as I tried to make sense of his words. "All of you?" I echoed, my brow furrowing.

Mateo nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "You belong to all of us," he clarified. "You said you were mine, Salem. And you're right. But you're also theirs. Ours ."

"Oh dear God," Cole muttered, his eyes widening in disbelief as he took in Mateo's words. Cohen pinched the bridge of his nose, a look of exasperation crossing his features as he shook his head.

"I knew we should have all had this conversation together," Lennox remarked with a tinge of frustration as he glanced between Mateo and me.

I turned to him, my mind still reeling from Mateo's revelation. "What conversation?" I asked, confusion lacing my tone.

Lennox sighed, running a hand through his hair as he explained, "The four of us talked about wanting to propose a polyamorous relationship to you. Mateo said he would have the conversation. But clearly, that was a mistake as he has obviously skipped a few steps."

Mateo mock-outraged, spreading his hands wide as he exclaimed, "Hey, I got her to agree to be ours! And I even got her a ring that represents us all."

Cole picked up the ring, examining it closely as Mateo continued, "A jewel just like a droplet of blood for our Triad queen, and then one black diamond to represent each of us, her monsters."

As I looked at the ring in Cole's hand, the weight of Mateo's words sank in. Despite the chaos and confusion, that bloody ring was kind of perfect for me.

Cole caught my eye, a thoughtful expression on his face. Without a word, he slid the ring across the counter toward me, his gaze intense as he whispered, ″You should wear it.″

Fallon and Remington were trying to stifle their laughter, their eyes dancing with amusement. But it was the heat in Mateo, Cole, Cohen, and Lennox's eyes that gave me pause. There was something possessive in their gaze, something that made my skin prickle.

I stepped back from the counter, shaking my head as I whispered, "We can't get married."

Mateo's voice cut through the tension like a knife, a low growl escaping his lips. "You are ours," he declared, his voice firm and unwavering.

Lennox interjected calmly but authoritatively. "Let's table this conversation for now," he suggested, his eyes meeting mine with concern.

Mateo pocketed the ring with a determined look in his eyes, his gaze never leaving mine. "This conversation isn't over, sweetheart," he warned, his tone a mixture of threat and promise.

The next week flew by in a predictable pattern. Each morning, I woke up with that damned ring on my finger, no matter where I hid or whose bed I slept in. And each morning, I'd take it off, only to be met with that challenging look from Mateo, as if he was daring me to defy him.

Each day had blurred into the next as we worked through Massimo's list, either persuading or bribing those named to switch their loyalties. And this morning was no different.

I stirred from my sleep, finding myself next to Cohen in his bedroom. My eyes fell to the ring on my finger, the bloody gorgeous thing glinting in the morning light. I stared at it, contemplating my next move.

Cohen shifted beside me, his gaze following mine to the ring. "You should just wear it, Salem," he suggested, his voice laced with amusement.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "I don't want to," I muttered, feeling uncharacteristically insecure.

Cohen reached out, his fingers brushing against mine where they rested on the bed sheet. "It's just a ring," he said gently, his eyes searching mine. "Maybe it's not worth the fight."

I knew he was right, but it wasn't just about the ring. It was about what it represented, the expectations and obligations that came with it.

Cohen must have sensed my internal struggle. His expression softened with concern as he said, "Hey, don't stress over it." His voice was a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. "We're already in an unconventional relationship, aren't we? Why does the ring need to represent what it traditionally does?"

I furrowed my brow, considering his words. What did he mean by that? I looked to him for clarification, searching his eyes for answers.

Cohen brushed a hand against my cheek, his touch warm against my skin. "I know I was late to the party," he began, his voice filled with sincerity. "And I know we might not be as far along as the others. But you're mine, Salem. And to me, all that ring represents is showing the world that you're ours. That you're taken. That we are devoted to you. And however twisted and broken we may be, we are yours."

His words drenched me like a wave, and for a moment, I completely forgot about the ring.

I leaned in closer to him, our faces inches apart. "Thank you," I whispered, gratitude swelling in my chest. "I'll think about it."

Cohen nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Take your time," he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. "We're in no rush. Well, Lennox, Cole, and I aren't, at least," he added with a deep chuckle.

With relief washing over me, I closed the gap between us, pressing my lips against his in a fierce kiss. Maybe I was overthinking things. It's not like I was going to give any of them up. What did wearing the ring really have to mean, other than me claiming these men as mine?

As we lay there, wrapped up in each other's embrace, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe the ring didn't have to represent what society expected it to. Maybe it could symbolize something entirely different, something uniquely ours.

With a contented sigh, I leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed and getting ready for the day ahead.

After a brisk shower and a simple breakfast, I joined Fallon at the kitchen table, where we cross-referenced the payroll list Cohen had gotten us with the ledger of Massimo's bribes and connections.

Over the past pew day's we'd been tirelessly comparing them, identifying the names that appeared most frequently in both. These recurring names likely belonged to those most willing to accept a bribe, giving us a crucial starting point in our investigation. It was a meticulous process, but one that could unearth the key players we needed to target.

"So, how's it looking?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee as Fallon scanned through the pages.

She looked up, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "We're making progress," she replied, her tone tinged with triumph. "Most of the contacts listed have agreed to switch sides. We've got the majority of support now."

I let out a relieved sigh, the tension easing from my shoulders. It was a small but important victory. With the backing of Massimo's former allies, our plans to take him down were finally starting to take shape.

"What about the ones who haven't budged?" I asked, leaning in closer to examine the ledger. "Any idea why they're holding out?"

Fallon shook her head, her brow furrowed in thought. "Not sure," she admitted. "But that list is pretty short now. We can deal with them after we've taken care of Massimo. No point in worrying about them until then, now that we have the majority."

I nodded in agreement, grateful for Fallon's level-headed approach. She always had a knack for seeing the bigger picture, for focusing on what mattered most.

"With the majority's support, we can start moving forward with our plans," I said, feeling a wave of excitement course through me. "No more holding back. It's time to take the fight to Massimo."

Fallon flashed me a grin, her eyes gleaming. "You read my mind," she replied, her voice brimming with confidence. "Shall we start with Mateo's father?"

I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "You have a plan?"

Fallon's lips curled into a smirk. "Well, thanks to the cameras Cole set up in the house of Mateo's father's mistress, we know he pays her a visit every Thursday night."

I couldn't suppress my chuckle. "How unfortunate for him that he's so predictable," I remarked.

Fallon nodded in agreement. "Indeed. And you know what today is?"

I nodded as I absorbed the information. "Thursday." A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips.

Fallon grinned back, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Looks like it's hunting season," she quipped, her tone laced with darkness.

"Let's make it a memorable hunt," I replied, excitement burning in my veins.

With a shared nod, we set to work, finalizing our plans and preparing for the task ahead. This was it—our chance to strike back against one of the men who had caused us so much pain and suffering.

As the hours passed, Fallon and I planned out every detail and packed our needed supplies. Every passing minute brought us closer to confronting our target, to a moment of reckoning we had been waiting for.

Finally, as evening fell and the sky darkened to shades of indigo, Fallon and I made our move. With stealth and precision, we drove out to the mistress's house and parked a few houses down.

The night was cloaked in darkness as we waited for our prey to appear. Minutes stretched into hours while we lurked in the shadows.

I turned to Fallon, a nagging doubt gnawing at the edges of my mind. "Do you think we should've told the guys what we're up to?" I asked, my voice laced with uncertainty.

Fallon scoffed, her lips curling into a defiant smirk. "And let them spoil all our fun? No way. Besides, this one is easy. There's no need for them to get all protective alpha male over nothing."

I chuckled softly, reassured by Fallon's confidence. "They do seem to forget that I am a wanted serial killer and you are a notorious thief," I remarked, amusement coloring my words.

"Exactly," Fallon agreed, her eyes flashing with mirth. "They'll thank us later when we pull this off without a hitch."

With a shared nod, we settled into a comfortable silence, our eyes trained on the rackety little house before us.

Finally, like clockwork, Giovanni's car pulled up to the curb, and we watched as he disappeared inside the house. Fallon and I exchanged a delighted glance.

I reached into the backseat, retrieving a bag of snacks I had brought along for the stakeout. "I brought us these for while we wait for them to fall asleep," I said, holding out the bag to Fallon.

A smile tugged at her lips as she accepted the offering. "See, this is why I love you," she quipped, her tone teasing yet affectionate.

I grinned back, feeling a rush of warmth at her words. "Right back at you," I replied, my heart swelling with gratitude for the bond we shared.

Fallon and I passed the time with idle chatter, our voices mingling with the night air. After a few hours, we used the cameras and confirmed that our targets were sound asleep inside.

Stepping out of the car, we crept toward the mistress's house, our movements fluid and calculated. Fallon paused to check the surveillance cameras, double-checking that our targets were fast asleep before we made our move. With a nod of confirmation, we proceeded with caution, Fallon skillfully picking the lock to grant us entry.

Once inside, I glanced around the dark interior, my gaze sweeping over the furnishings with a mixture of disdain and pity. "Geez, he could've put her up in a nicer place since she has to put up with his saggy balls every week," I muttered under my breath, the bitterness of the situation leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

Fallon's agreement was a mere murmur, barely audible over the pounding of my heart as we made our way toward the bedroom. With each step, my hunger for bloodshed increased.

We reached the bedroom door and exchanged a silent glance, our intent mirrored in each other's eyes. With careful steps, we approached the slumbering figures in the bed, our movements swift and sure.

Fallon took position on one side of the bed, Her fingers deftly retrieved a syringe filled with a potent knockout drug, which she quickly injected the sleeping mistress, ensuring that she would sleep until morning and be none the wiser to our presence.

Meanwhile, I stood poised on the other side of the bed, my gaze fixed on Mateo's father as he lay unconscious, breathing evenly. With a steady hand, I delivered a swift slice across his throat, my knife splattering his blood up onto the ceiling and covering me in the process. His eyes opened in shock, gazing up at me with horror as the life drained from his eyes.

I would have liked to draw out his death, maybe give him a tour of our new torture shed, but it was better to get the job done quickly now and save my efforts for my own father.

Fallon and I exchanged a satisfied nod, the eagerness that had gripped us moments before beginning to dissipate, replaced by relief and accomplishment.

Not wanting to linger, we disappeared into the night, the echoes of our footsteps fading into the darkness.

"One monster down. Only two to go," I mused quietly. Admittedly, we were saving the more challenging for last.

This victory offered a brief reprieve, but I knew the real challenges still lay ahead. The others wouldn't go down as easily. Especially not once they heard of Giovanni's death.

Hopefully, the guys wouldn't be too pissed that we took this one on without them. Who was I kidding? They were going to be furious.