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Silenced in book 1 in The Forgotten Boys series and can be read as a standalone.

A Dead to Me Thanksving

Cin

“I have a plan and I think you need to hear it.”

My brows lift as Savannah plunks herself beside me at the Thanksgiving table.

Well, I say Thanksgiving table but that’s a recent development as Star was behind this year’s preparations and a natural interior decorator she isn’t.

The cornucopia looks distinctly unseasonal what with a medley of tropical fruits in it to piss Lena off but Aoife tutted at the sight of her sister-in-law’s lackluster offering and took over. That means we’ll be eating in an expensive department store’s idea of Thanksgiving.

Complete with Caribbean fruit medley.

“Do you even like me?”

That earns me a scowl. “Do I have to like you, Cin?”

“Fair point. So what’s the plan? Is it political because I really don’t want to have to deal with this today. If you knew what your husband had me—” I break off before I can incriminate either myself or Aidan Jr. but it earns me an intrigued glance.

“Aidan has a plan?” She releases a dreamy sigh. “Should have known.”

“The cranberry jelly is on the table, Grandma!” Shay yells as he dips his head into the dining room. “Can I go watch a movie with Kat now?”

My eyes flick off him and onto Savannah who beams at me then claps her hands together like a seal at SeaWorld.

“Please don’t squeal,” I grumble, rubbing my ear in preparation but she earns my respect by only declaring:

“Someone will be getting a blowjob tonight.”

I snort. “Good to know.”

Truthfully, getting a mobster’s son into the White House deserves more than a BJ. But who am I to criticize?

“Are you two planning the downfall of civilization?” Star inquires as she also steps into the room and plunks down beside me.

“Maybe,” Savannah muses. “What do you think would happen if we assassinated—”

I groan. “No politics!”

Savannah huffs but concedes with a deep sip of her Manhattan.

Star’s finger flicks at a disgustingly neat napkin that has a tiny pumpkin with our names on them as a ring. How Star’s sister-in-law pulled this off on such short notice is beyond me. “I swear Aoife wanted me to break out in hives. It’s too much.”

“It’s not that bad,” I reason. “Looks like something from a movie. I think it’s neat.”

And I do.

Thanksgiving used to be a big deal in my house but since my work took me away one time too many, I never feel all that welcome at home.

When Star invited me, I swear I almost cried.

Not that I told her that.

“Aoife must have been a window dresser in a past life,” Savannah drawls. “These are silver.”

When she points to the engraved napkin rings, my eyes widen. “Do I want to know how she got a jeweler to engrave this stuff today of all days?”

“I saw Brennan head out with a set of brass knuckles earlier,” Star says around a cackle.

“Real festive,” I chide with an eye roll.

“What are you doing in here?” When Troy strolls in, I take note of the weapons strapped to her shoulders. Yes, plural. And yes, visible. Only in this household would that be allowed. “Dinner won’t be served for a while yet.”

Ignoring her question, I chide, “Troy, even I came unarmed.”

“Bullshit,” she rasps unapologetically. “Tell me those bell-bottoms aren’t hiding an ankle holster.”

I sniff. “I plead the Fifth.”

She rubs her nose with her middle finger.

“And I don’t do flares unless they’re the pyrotechnic version.”

“Where’s kiddo?” Star asks Troy before we can start bickering.

After that stunt she pulled last week, she’s lucky I’m only bickering. It’s either that or drown Troy in a gravy boat.

“With Lena. They’re doing something disgusting with macaroni and cheese.” As she takes a seat opposite me, she asks, “You still flying out tomorrow?”

I scowl at her. “I’m not talking about work. Sheesh!”

“Where is she going?” Savannah asks.

“Russia,” Star answers. “Bought her ticket myself.”

I heave a sigh. “I’m going to sit with the kids and watch Disney movies.”

Star tugs on my hand to keep me seated. “Want to talk about turkey and stuffing?”

“Is it too much to ask?”

“You wouldn’t want to sit with the kids anyway. They’re watching Bambi,” Troy informs me.

I gape at her. “Are you for real? I think Aoife needs to dose everyone with lithium. Apparently, the two of us are the only ones feeling the festive cheer!”

Savannah rocks back in her seat and raises her glass. “If you’re unaliving who I think you’re unaliving tomorrow then ho, fucking ho. I’m totally feeling the festive vibes.”

“Wrong holiday,” I grouse.

She beams at me. “This deserves an epic Christmas gift.”

“I take American Express.”

Star chuckles. “Cin only accepts cash or gold.”

“That can be arranged,” Savannah half-purrs.

Troy grumbles, “I’d have done it today to avoid this bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not allowed on a job until you prove to Aidan you’re not completely deranged,” I counter.

“It’s not my fault I had to unalive three—”

“No. Work. Talk!” I slap my hand on the table. “We’re going to eat too much turkey, gorge on marshmallow yams, drink a gallon of wine, glut on pumpkin pie, and forget that the world is a shitshow for one day. Now, if you bitches can’t do that, I’m going to sit with the Grinch himself and let Brennan cheer me up.”

Savannah tuts. “Man, you weren’t lying when you said she took Thanksgiving seriously, Star.”

I growl under my breath then, as I stomp out of the room, call out, “Brennan, where are you? SOS!”

Serena Akeroyd 2024

A Filthy King's Promise to His Queen

“Little one, what’s wrong?”

While Savvie stomped from one side of the living room to the other, she barely lifted her head to glance at me.

She’d been agitated all week and I didn’t blame her. Still, this was the worst I’d seen her.

Stepping into her path, I caught a couple of her mutterings and scowled. “Who dared say that to you?” I growled the words because anyone who thought they could breathe that toxic BS in her environs had a face in dire need of meeting my fists.

She paused a foot away from me. Strange in itself. Especially the distrust in her eyes.

Concerned and perplexed as the last time I’d seen her this morning she’d been screaming my name in orgasm, I cautiously approached her. “Savvie? Who said that to you?”

Cupping her elbows, she swallowed. “No one said it to me.” Okay, so I didn’t need to dispatch Eoghan. Yet. “It’s being shared on social media. Haven’t you seen it?”

“No. ‘Your body, my choice?’ Someone said that? Out goddamn loud?”

She licked her quivering lips. “Yes.”

“That’s not how we work, little one. Even if we play… You know that, don’t you?” It was suddenly imperative we spell that out and I found myself releasing a breath when she jerkily nodded in agreement.

Still, her hands balled into fists. “This is 2024. My rights are supposed to matter, Aidan.”

“That goes without saying.”

No wonder she stared at me with distrust.

The nation had let her down. And my wife was in a position of privilege. The same couldn’t be said for the average woman.

But God, her distrust hurt.

Not all men? I might not have voted for this insanity but the majority had so it was no wonder she looked at me like she was wounded. She WAS. Her sisters were. We’d stepped back a thousand paces.

On. My. Watch.

“I don’t like this world anymore, Aidan,” my ebullient, cocky Savannah whispered. “I’m scared.”

Those two words lit a fire under my ass.

I headed into her space, held out my arms and released a second relieved breath when she stepped into them and let me embrace her. The fact my ’mob’ wife was scared of nothing when it came to my business but the state of the country terrified her agitated me like little else could.

Pressing a kiss to her temple, I held her tight. “I’m sorry, little one. I’m so fcuking sorry.”

Relieved when she nuzzled into me, I strained to hear her whisper, “Star is doxxing anyone who shared that hashtag as we speak.”

I stroked a hand along her back. “I knew I liked my sister-in-law.”

Silence settled between us but I was thankful when she didn’t pull away.

I’d never felt this much distance between us before but I understood. It wasn’t my rights being torn to shreds. I had to show her that I was her safe space though.

Forever and always.

“We need Shay in the Oval Office.”

At first, I couldn’t hear her soft murmur, then I picked up on it and gave her the truth:

“Working on it.”

When she sagged into me, resolve filled me. Doubling down when I felt her tears soaking through my shirt.

Shay becoming President was a nebulous goal for the future, one the Five Points was actively working toward but not directing all our energy to.

But now my wife was shivering in my arms?

Now she was scared of the world outside these doors?

Now she was weeping against my chest in fear for herself and her sisters, from those who shared her DNA to BIPOC women as well as the people who sat under the LGBTQIA umbrella?

Shay was going to be sitting his ass behind the Resolute desk the second he hit 35.

My wife’s body?

HER fucking choice.

Every. Goddamn. Minute.

Of every damn day.

And Seamus O’Donnelly was going to make that the standard as well as the norm.

That was this Filthy King’s promise to his Queen.