Angel's Mafia (gxg) ✓

LI | Ceremony

ANGEL

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT."

"I'm not."

"You're not going."

"You're right. I'm not."

"You can't go."

"I won't," I say, continuing to load ammunition in my guns. I straighten my dress and start to curl my hair.

"Angel," Dominic says warningly.

"Dominic," I say in the same tone.

Our eyes meet in the mirror of my bathroom and he lets out a breath. "It's an ambush, I know it is," he says.

"You're right, it is," I say, looping my hair around the curler.

"You absolutely can't go."

"Yes, you're right, I can't," I say, stuffing lipstick and a knife in my purse.

"It's a trap! Why else would Cassian tell you that? He can't be that stupid as to just let it out as a boast."

I hum my agreement and start to spray my hair with gloss.

"It's a trick," Dominic says. "They want you at that party. They'll kill you."

With this, I suddenly turn on him with a dangerous low voice. "You lied to me for a year, goddamn. You let me think she was dead. You knew the pain I was in."

"I had to," he protests. "There was no point in you knowing. You would have tried to get her back."

"Goddamn straight, and maybe I would've failed, but it was my choice," I hiss. "I would've rather known she was alive without me than dead because of me."

"I didn't want you to keep hurting."

I look away from him sharply. "I was hurting anyway. You were too blind to see."

Dominic leaves without another word.

CALL ME STUPID. CALL ME A FOOL.

It doesn't matter if it's a trap, going to Cade's ceremony. Even if she's the granddaughter of the man I bargained with, the worst man in the city, I want to see her. I need to see her. If she's okay, if she's unhurt, if she doesn't need me . . . I'll leave. I'll leave and I won't come back, because if she's happy there, then I understand. I want her to be happy.

But I go armed with my guns anyway. Because the odds are that there will be a fight, even if I'm unrecognizable with this gown and red hair. I've powdered my face so I'm a shade paler, and I've erased my tattoos with the help of makeup.

After painting freckles on my face and covering my lips in a deep, dark violet, I look like a stranger. With this riot of curly red hair, I look more like a movie star than a Mafia lord. Perfect.

My dress is the same red one I wore the night at the museum last year, when Cade followed me into a back corner. She alone will recognize it, I know that. It's why I'm wearing it, even though I promised myself I wouldn't talk to her.