Chapter 4 - THE KING OF THE NORTH END
By noon, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. I had gone down to the diner to talk to the police, feigning ignorance and playing the terrified waitress perfectly. Sullivan was devastated by the vandalism, but the cops chalked it up to a break-in gone wrong. They didn't find Kaelen's blood in the pantry; my frantic bleaching had worked.
When I returned upstairs, Kaelen was sitting at my small dining table, feeding Mia a bottle with his left hand while keeping his right hand near his weapon. He looked better. The color had returned to his face, and the tailored trousers of his ruined suit still somehow made him look commanding in my shabby apartment.
“Who were they?” I asked, dropping my keys on the counter. I poured myself a cup of stale coffee, needing the caffeine to keep my hands from shaking.
“Men who work for my brother,” Kaelen said, not looking up from his daughter’s face. His voice was completely devoid of emotion, a chilling contrast to the words he was speaking. “His name is Declan. He decided that the Vance syndicate was being run too softly under my leadership. He believes in expansion through bloodshed. I believe in stability.”
“The Vance syndicate,” I repeated, the realization finally crashing over me. The news had been full of it for months. The brutal shadow war for control of Boston's ports, the underground casinos, the illegal arms trade. The Vance family ran all of it. And I had just stitched up their king.
“You’re the head of the Irish mob,” I whispered.
Kaelen finally looked at me, his blue eyes unreadable. “I am a businessman, Ella. My business just happens to operate outside the parameters of the law. But Declan… Declan is a butcher. Last night, he ambushed my convoy on the way to a christening. My wife…” His voice broke, just for a fraction of a second, before turning into hardened steel. “My wife, Sarah, did not survive. He tried to kill his own niece and nephew to ensure there were no heirs left to challenge his claim.”
I stared at him, my heart breaking for the two innocent babies sleeping just feet away. “So you ran.”
“I fought until I ran out of ammunition, and then I ran to keep them alive,” he corrected softly. He shifted Mia to his shoulder, patting her back. “Declan owns half the police force. He owns the judges. I couldn’t go to a hospital. I was bleeding out, and your diner was the only light on in Southie.”
“And now?” I asked, leaning against the counter. “What happens now?”
“Now, my men are securing a safe route out of the city. We leave tonight. I will transfer one million dollars into your bank account, Ella. It is the least I can do for your silence and your medical expertise. Then, you will forget you ever met me.”
I looked at his bandaged side. I knew exactly how deep that bullet wound had gone. I knew the signs of impending sepsis. I knew that without proper antibiotics and wound care over the next forty-eight hours, Kaelen Vance would die, no matter how many bodyguards he had.
“You’re not going anywhere without a nurse,” I said, the words slipping out of my mouth before my brain could stop them.
Kaelen frowned, his dark brows drawing together. “Absolutely not. I am not dragging a civilian into a mob war. You have done enough.”
“If you get an infection, you’ll be dead by Friday,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “And then who protects Leo and Mia? Your men? Declan will slaughter them. You need me to keep you alive, Kaelen. And frankly, after those goons wrecked my diner, I don’t think I’m safe here anyway. If they check the security cameras down the street, they’ll see I lied to the cops.”
May you like
He stared at me for a long, heavy minute. The silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken tension. Finally, he let out a slow, defeated breath.
“Pack a bag, Ella,” he said softly. “We leave at midnight.”
