Vicious Minds (Children of Vice #4)(51)

“That’s basically four years from now.”

She nodded. “It is.”

Once again, her dedication, her ability to put nothing ahead of the plan, my plan, was something that was beyond my understanding. How could she be so self-sacrificing? Being my wife meant that much to her. She could simply delay her gratification like that.

“Very well.” I nodded, her strength my only resolve. “Wyatt goes to Boston, and after you give birth, you can be his Triste Mietitore.”

“What?” A grin spread across her face. “Why am I his grim reaper?”

I stroked her cheek with the back of my hand. “Because you decide when his soul goes back to the underworld.”

She rolled her eyes and turned back over. I rested my hand on her stomach again. “Sounds like the beginning to a great myth; the brother of Hades, tired of living in his brother’s shadow, escapes the underworld and goes up to the land of mortals, Hades sends his true love, the Grim Reaper, to watch over him until it is time for his soul to return.”

“What of Cronus and Rhea, Hades’ parents, who seek and roam around the earth? What can be done of them? I need him to get hurt for them to come back.”

“No, you need one of their children to get hurt. You are their child, remember?” I stilled, my mind looking at all the pieces. They were so far apart from each other, but now I could see them aligning.

“Do you know who Savino Moretti is?”

“An old rich Italian family in Chicago, right? They worked under your mother.”

“And after my mother died…so did their steadfast loyalty.”

“They betrayed you?”

I shook my head. That was the problem. “No. Not yet. Moretti is trying to drive a wedge between me and the Italian families. So he can take over. Just like Miguel Munha. All of them are on the cusp, flirting with betrayal. They don’t know it themselves, but I can see it. Step by step, they are walking towards me just to stab me in the back.”

“Your lapdog, Tobias, too.”

“That one is complicated,” I muttered, already annoyed by the thought.

“Because he’s sleeping with your sister?”

I glanced down at her face. She had her eyes closed but still managed to have that know-it-all look on her face.

“Yes.”

“You love your sister. You don’t want her to hate you. Killing her lover would do that…and maybe set her off to betray you too.”

“Like I said, complicated.”

“Not if you have her kill him.” Her gears were turning. “Same with Wyatt. She loves her family, loves being a Callahan. You know want they want better than they do, so help them make their choices. If it came down to family or Tobias, and it was Donatella’s choice, who would she chose?”

“Family. Without hesitation.” Now it wasn’t complicated, there was just another step to the process. “I let her make the choice she wants to make.”

“Then she can only be upset with herself.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

“What?”

“My sister can always be upset with someone else. It’s her gift.”

She chuckled too. “Well, she won’t be angry enough to want to go off the edge and that’s enough, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I conceded, now sure of what I was going to have to do. “I’m going to have to let my enemies grow. They will think they’ve somehow gotten the slip on me, over and over again. Meanwhile, as they grow they crush the small idiots below them and make themselves my singular targets, which can be chopped down at a single command.”

“That will make you look weak.”

“Good, the weaker I look, the more concern my parents will have. The more they will want to right my ship. My father had this saying…even when I am losing, I am winning. So I will lose. I will lose over and over again. I will take the hits, and then all those losses will put me at such a high risk, such a danger, they will need to step in.”

“And then il Triste Mietitore will drag their souls back to the underworld so they will kneel before Hades and beg forgiveness,” she said with a raspy voice as if she were trying to cast a spell.

I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “You do know that il Triste Mietitore is Italian and the gods in the myth you are using are Greek and not Roman, right?”

“Don’t go there.”

“It kills you to admit the Greek gods are better.” Italians were such prideful people.

“You just had to go there. I never said that.” She opened her mouth to make an excuse but couldn’t. I laughed again. “The Roman myths are very…complicated. They are too serious for this conversation.”

“Yes, this conversation of family, drama, plots, murder, and betrayals?” I asked.

“Damn it, Ethan…whose side are you on?”

“Thor’s.”

She laughed so hard she snorted and then tried to be serious again. “That’s Viking!”

“We Irish have Viking in us, where do you think the love of drinking in pubs and clashing cups comes from?”

“You’re so fucking annoying,” she grumbled, using my hand as pillow, and I kissed her cheek, making her blush.

I loved her. This was the most fun I’d had in months…since the last time I was with her. She was, just as her name claimed, my muse. My dark and deadly muse.