Page 26 of Psycho Saints

"The Russos have spilt some blood, that's for sure," Tyrone continued, his face a carefully constructed mask of neutrality. "But they've lost even more of their own in the process. It's been a bloodbath on both sides."

I knocked back another swallow of whiskey, feeling the warmth spread through my chest. "So what's happening now?" I asked, my fingers tapping against the glass. "We just gonna sit around and wait for the next move?"

Tyrone's brow furrowed. "That's what's got us concerned, Cris. They've gone quiet. Suspiciously quiet. All our informants are saying the same thing - they've gone underground to some extent. It doesn't sit right with me."

Julian finally spoke up, his voice rough from the whiskey and lack of use. "Could be they're deciding on a new family head," he offered, swirling the liquid in his glass. "Lot of bodies dropped. Might be scrambling to fill the power vacuum."

I clicked my tongue and rolled my eyes. "Weren't we going to eradicate the whole family? I thought that was the plan. What happened to painting the town red with Russo blood?"

Tyrone sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he always did when he was trying not to lose his cool. "That was the plan, Cris, but some of the rival families rose up to oppose the potential idea of that, threatening their own involvement. Not to mention our own family members - our cousins and uncle - weren't too keen on wiping them off the board just yet. They still think the Russos have their uses."

"Since when do we listen to anyone else?" I demanded, anger flaring in my chest. "You're the head of the family, aren't you? I could deal with the family members opposing you. Just say the word, Ty. I'll make them disappear so fast, they won't even have time to scream. Done it before."

Tyrone, ever the voice of reason, shut me down.

"Leave it," he said firmly, his dark eyes boring into mine. "We'll keep our ears to the ground and bide our time."

I swirled my glass, a frustrated growl escaping my throat. Patience had never been my strong suit, especially not since the bullet. The chaos in my mind begged for release, for blood and violence.

"We saw a whole other side of Scarlet today," Julian mused, shifting the subject to a more favorable one since we had to sit here on our thumbs.

I nodded, my mind drifting back to the warehouse, to Scarlet's hands covered in blood. "She was... beautiful," I breathed, a grin spreading across my face. "The way she embraced it all, the look in her eyes... It was like watching a work of art come to life."

"Do you think she's pregnant? That she can feel it somehow? That would explain her sudden willingness to embrace our world."

I shrugged, trying to hide the hope that circled in my chest. "It's possible. We won't know for sure for a few more weeks."

Tyrone remained silent, his face unreadable as he sipped his whiskey.

"If she is," Julian continued, "A child would tie her to us permanently."

I felt a surge of possessiveness at the thought. "She's already ours," I growled. "Baby or not. She killed Ian, she made the choice."

Julian nodded. "Of course. I'm just saying, it would make things... simpler."

I drained my glass and set it down on the counter a little too heavily. "Nothing's ever simple with Scarlet," I muttered. "But that's what makes her so damn perfect."

Tyrone finally spoke up, his voice low and measured. "We need to be careful. If she is pregnant, we can't push her too hard. She's still adjusting to our world. We don't need her miscarrying."

I scoffed. "After what she did to Ian? I'd say she's adjusted just fine." But I also knew he had a point. Ian had been our test for her, and she'd passed with flying colors.

Julian nodded in agreement. "She certainly didn't hesitate when it came to having her revenge."

"That's different," Tyrone argued. "Revenge is personal. Our business... that's something else entirely."

"We gave her her choices. She chose us," I shot back.

"I know. And now she needs to come to terms with that decision," Tyrone stated, his eyes holding mine. "Because like you said, she made her choice."

My lip quirked as I looked at the ceiling, as if I could magically see my little kitten. She was ours now. Bound to us in blood.

14

SCARLET

Iwoke to the welcome aroma of bacon wafting through the air, its salty scent teasing my nostrils. I peered through one eye, adjusting to the soft morning light, and saw Tyrone's imposing figure standing in the doorway. He was balancing a tray in his hands, and I couldn't help but wonder what other delights he might have brought besides the bacon. My stomach growled, protesting its emptiness, and I pulled myself into a seated position as I tried to shake off the lingering tendrils of sleep.

"Morning, Scarlet," Tyrone said as he strode in. "Thought you might like some breakfast."