Fall of Snow: Chapter 68

I never really believed in déjà vu. It wasn’t a concept that my family would allow us to believe, and the myths about the feeling were too out there for the likes of the Russo family.

But this is it. I’m pacing up and down the corridor of the hospital wing we’ve completely taken over. There isn’t another patient in this part of the hospital and perhaps I should feel bad about that, but I don’t. The only thing I care about is Snow, and everything else on the face of the earth can get fucked as far as I’m concerned.

Not for the first time since she disappeared through the double doors behind the desk, I think about leaving all of this. We could go anywhere, do anything, as long as it’s far away from the threat that has almost taken my Snowflake away from me twice in as many weeks. I don’t give a fuck about the money or the power, and I couldn’t care less about my family’s legacy, all that matters is keeping Snow safe.

Of course I’ll have a fight on my hands when I tell her she’ll no longer live in the same city as her family, but I’d rather she hates me from safety, than love me in the midst of constant danger.

I have no qualms handing my business over to Frost Industries, it would be staying in the family after all, and they could always visit us wherever we end up.

My musings of a life far away from the one we’re living now are interrupted when Everett carries Wynter through the double doors behind the counter. She’s been getting checked out properly since we arrived, and I have a feeling every time I see her for the foreseeable future, my cousin will be carrying her. I know because that’s how it’s going to be with Snow as soon as she’s out of here. I don’t know how I’m ever going to allow her to leave my arms, let alone my sight.

Storm stops his own pacing and takes long strides to where his best friend is settling his sister in his arms. The plastic chairs aren’t big enough for Everett in general, but they’re certainly not built for a man the size of my cousin, and his woman. “What did the doctor say? Are they sure the baby is okay?”

Wynter tucks her face against Everett’s chest and yawns, but there’s the slightest smile playing on her lips, just enough to tell me she’s amused by her big bad brother fussing over her. “I’m fine, my wrists are pretty torn up, and because it was over existing scar tissue, the healing process may be more painful, but I’ll make a full recovery. Baby is perfect.”

Everett’s hand spreads across the bump protectively, and not for the first time, I find myself craving Snow’s body swelling with our baby. I meant when I told her it didn’t matter if she gives me legitimate heirs, any child raised by Snow and I will be fit to be handed the keys to the kingdom someday, but the possessive caveman inside me wants nothing more than to claim her in one last way.

“She’s bouncing around in there having the time of her life,” she says, the affection in her voice clear as she looks up at Everett. The smoke has made her voice more husky than normal, but she doesn’t appear to be struggling to speak.

He still looks like he’s ready to tear the world apart for daring to touch his woman, but some of the tension has left his shoulders, and his hold on Wynter is gentle but firm.

Storm’s phone rings and we all turn to look at him expectantly. We’re still waiting to hear from Tommy about whether or not they were able to capture whoever has been making moves against us, whoever just tied my woman up in a church and set the damn thing on fire.

“Yes,” Storm says, clicking the phone onto speaker for the rest of us to hear.

“We lost them,” Tommy growls. “They disappeared like fucking Houdini. One minute they were ahead of us, and then the next they were gone.”

“A convoy of black SUVs doesn’t just disappear, Tommy,” Storm snaps.

“Well, these ones did. I don’t know what to tell you, these guys are pros.”

“Find them,” he growls, ending the call without another word. The corded muscles in his neck are so tense, they look like they might snap at any second.

“Her,” Wynter whispers. “You need to find her.”

“What do you mean, her?” Storm asks, barely holding on to his anger as he turns his attention to his sister.

She blows out a shaky breath. “Before she set the church on fire, she told us everything. Who she is. How she got here. What her plan is. She obviously didn’t think we were going to make it out alive, and that was the first time she’s slipped up since all this started.”

“Who is she?” Everett asks.

“Your sister.” The words are simple enough, but they send the room into chaos. Storm swears and recommences his pacing. Everett carefully places Wynter down on the seat beside him before walking across the hall and slamming his fist into the wall. And I stand in place, completely fucking speechless. Everett has a sister?

“Everett doesn’t have a sister,” I point out.

Wynter watches him with concern before turning her attention back to me. “His father had a woman before he married your aunt. He sent them away when the alliance was settled on, and she blames all of us for taking the life she and her mother were owed. In her mind, she should be running both families right now.” Her cheeks pale as her eyes dart from each of us before settling on her hands in her lap. “She’s married to Steven Lounder.”

We turn to her all at once, that can’t be right. First of all, Lounder has never dared step foot into our territory. He and my uncles were sworn enemies. And on top of that, the Saint James family have forged themselves into becoming the most powerful criminal organization in the country, and they’ve always made their stance on human trafficking extremely clear, and that’s what the Lounders are known for.

The sound that erupts from Everett’s throat is raw and rough, primal anger that’s anything but human.

Wynter lets out a shaky breath but makes no move from her seat. “She said that by taking Snow and me out, she was taking someone from each family. A Saint James. A Russo. And a Masters,” she chokes on the last word, rubbing her stomach as if reminding herself the baby is okay.

Everett’s head whips around and rage fills his eyes. He’s past anger. Him and anger aren’t even on the same continent right now, but he takes slow, measured steps back to Wynter, dropping to his knees in front of her. He wraps his hand around the back of her head and guides her down until their foreheads rest against one another. He’s vibrating with fear and rage, but he’s gentle with her. “I will make this right, Wynter. I promise I’ll make it right.”

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers. “None of this is any of our faults, and we’re going to take this bitch down.” Her eyes meet mine and I nod.

I don’t need her words to know what she’s asking me. She knows if push comes to shove, Everett may not be able to pull the trigger, that even Storm, Rayne, and Tommy will have a moral objection to killing a woman. And normally I would too, but Everett’s sister deserves much worse than death for what she did tonight, and I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger and send her to meet her maker.

“What’s her name?” Everett asks.

“Annalise.”

I meet his gaze when it whips toward me. “Why is that name so familiar?” I ask aloud.

“We’ve met her.” Everett pushes to his feet, pressing a quick kiss to Wynter’s forehead as he stands.

I try to think back to those days. It was so long ago, and it’s a time in my life I would rather forget. My father and uncles changed the day Daniel Masters was killed. They became more cold, more ruthless, and Everett and I bore the brunt of that.

“At your father’s funeral!”

He nods, glancing at Wynter to make sure she’s still where he left her. “She and her mother came up to us, introduced themselves as friends of my father.”

“And Annalise started crying. You wanted to comfort her, but Angelo wouldn’t let you.” The memory crashes into me all at once. At the time, I couldn’t figure out why he was so angry, but it’s all starting to make sense.

“I wonder if Angelo kept paying Annalise’s mother after Daniel died,” Wynter muses.

“I might be able to find out,” I say, quickly pulling my phone from my pocket and shooting a text to the accountant my uncle used. I still have him on our payroll despite not trusting him as far as I can kick him, for times just like this. Angelo was into a lot of bullshit, and sometimes I need information about the shit my uncle used to do, just like right now.