Page 78 of King of Wrath

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Page 78 of King of Wrath

I can seeby her face that’s she’s angry. It’s in the defiant tilt of her chin. “Is that what you and your family need? For me to share?”

I might have chosen my words poorly there. What I really want is for her to help me convince them to help us. But I’m threading a needle here.

I don’t want either party to think I’ve switched sides. I want everyone to understand that we are all on the same side.

And that everyone here can help each other.

But I’m also a hundred percent certain, if my family won’t help Nia, she and I are gone. So maybe I am switching sides. I’ll always love my nephews, but I won’t abandon Nia. She is my future.

Which is why, I’d like to be delicate here.

But fuck me, like I’ve said, I’m an old-school gangster and subtle negotiation is not my strength.

It’s Mason’s.

I look at my oldest nephew, the lynch pin in our new business, and I hold his gaze.

His brothers and Luke, they all show him deference. Not me. I am their uncle, the patriarch of this family.

I allow him to lead us in business because he’s the most apt.

But I am this family’s boss, and perhaps it’s time that I made that clear. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t offer a few carrots.

“I need them to understand that you, Nia, have the answers and a vested interest in sharing the truth with them.”

Her eyes go from defiant to confused, as I gently turn her around and start pulling the hem of my shirt up her legs and around her waist.

Her hands stop me, her gaze meeting mine, now shining with fear.

“Just your torso, love,” I whisper close to her ear.

“You know how much I hate for people to see that,” she replies, her voice trembling with emotion.

“You’re a warrior, Nia. All warriors carry battle wounds.”

I hear a few men suck in their breath, but I don’t look at them. Nia’s spine straightens again, her face hardening in resolute lines as she gives a nod of agreement.

Gently, slowly, I lift the shirt, revealing her lower back and ribs.

“Christ,” Mason rumbles as Leo makes a feral sound in his throat.

Holding the shirt in one hand, I turn her so they see the front, both the marks on her body and the hurt in her eyes. They will not ignore her pain as they make decisions.

“You can drop the shirt, Jake,” Roman says, his tone clipped as he turns his head to the side.

But it’s Nia’s hand that takes the shirt from mine and leaves the fabric gathered under her breasts. “Roman.”

He looks back at her, as he draws in a long breath through his nose.

Luke shifts. “Who gave those to you?”

“Toni,” she answers quietly.

“But only you? Not Jess?” Mason asks as he assesses her.

Nia looks at me and I give her a nod to continue. “Only me,” she confirms. “And only when he suffers some major loss.”

“So every time we’ve hit him,” Leo’s fists are clenched as he crosses his arms over his massive chest, “he hits you.”




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