His Mafia Prince
Chapter 172: Not So Mighty After All

Chapter 172: Not So Mighty After All

(JERICHO)

I get on the other side and Luca steps in to start the car. We leave the stroller in the parking lot and the tires squeal as we drive out of the park. It was a nice stroller, but it wasn’t worth our lives. Strollers are a dime a dozen. Our priority now is to escape the cops and get the house back in one piece.

"Do you know who those guys were??’ I address the back of Luca’s head.

"Yeah." Luca nods. "I recognised one of them. The one Wesley shot; he is with the Sharks Clan."

"The Irish made a move? Why would they do that? I thought we had a truce." I scowl.

Wesley shifts uneasily beside me but says nothing. Every once in a while, he glances at the back window to make sure that we aren’t being followed."

"Things have strained." Luca doesn’t bother to explain.

"That fucker was aiming at me." I snap. "That felt personal."

"I hate this shit." Wesley shakes his head.

I turn to face him. His jaw is clenched and he is staring at baby Reign. "Why do you have a gun?" I ask in a not so soft tone. My ego is almost hurting. I should have been the bigger person and handled the situation. I should have been the man of the hour, yet I froze like a pussy.

"Because sometimes you need one." He meets my gaze.

"How often does a Manny need to shoot at someone?" I scowl.

He narrows his gaze. "Shouldn’t you be thanking me for saving your life instead of looking pissed that I have a gun?"

"Thanks for saving my pass. But still, I don’t understand why you needed to carry."

"I... uh..." he looks away. "Normally, I wouldn’t carry. But given who Miles is, I know that this job can be dangerous. I just thought that it would be a good thing to be prepared. Just in case things turned out like they did.

"And do Miles and Arlo know that you are armed? I don’t suppose they would like the idea of a gun around their child."

"No." he turns to me with an uneasy expression. I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to use it."

I let out a gruff laugh. "You didn’t think that you’d ask permission to have a gun around their child?"

"Like I said," he says in a testy voice. "I was hoping I’d never have to use the gun."

"That’s so irresponsible of you." I chuff. "Jesus."

He bites his jaw. "Jericho, why are you mad?"

"I’m not mad."

"Yes, you are." He mumbles. "You know if I didn’t have the gun―"

He doesn’t need to say it out loud. We all know that he didn’t have the gun or acted as quickly as he did, I’d be a goner. I’d probably be a corpse in a body bag with a bullet hole in my skull.

I fight back a pang of nausea as a chill slither through me like a rattlesnake. I still can’t wrap my head around how close I was to dying. The violence of the mafia world barely reaches me. I always hear tales from Sasha and the men, but I’m always distant from that stuff. Never once had I thought that I would be someone’s specific target like that.

I should probably apologize to Wesley for being prideful, but I can’t bring myself to say the words. It’s even worse because I’m being defensive. It kind of embarrasses me. As an alpha, I’m supposed to be stony and defensive. I’m embarrassed at how I froze when I was supposed to be the one protecting Wesley and the baby, and that he had to be the one to rescue me instead. I don’t want to admit that shit out loud, and especially not in front of Luca.

Wesley shifts towards me. "Was I supposed to stand by and watch you get shot, Jericho?" he mumbles. "You wanted me to let you get shot just so I wouldn’t accidentally wound your alpha ego?"

"You misunderstand the situation." My face warms at the lie.

"No, I don’t think I am." He says.

No. He isn’t. My pride is wounded and buzzing like a fire alarm. I suspect that my discomfort at needing to be saved is because I enjoyed coming to Wesley’s rescue the few times that he needed me. I felt like a real alpha then. From the moment I first laid my eyes on Wesley, I wanted to play the alpha role for him. The desire to be in charge was new to me. Even so, I wanted to protect him. No other omega has ever brought out that side of me. Then I froze in the face of real danger. I feel like a pussy. Weak. Pathetic.

Relief swamps me when we arrive at Miles’ place. I don’t try to explain any of that torment to Wesley. I wouldn’t know how to put it in words without feeling worse. It would be too pitiful to even try. I see no need to whine about my ego being bruised. I’d rather not admit that I was enjoying playing the big protective alpha. I’d sound like an idiot airing it out like that.

We head into the house and find Miles and Arlo waiting in the foyer. Luca has obviously filled them in on what happened at the park. Arlo silently takes the baby front Wesley and goes upstairs. I’m sure that he will thank Wesley for protecting the baby once he has come down a bit. It is obvious that his omega instincts are driving him now, and all he wants at the moment is to be close to his baby.

Miles faces Wesley and me. He flicks his assessing gaze to me. "Are you alright, not injured?"

"I’m fine." I rasp. My cheeks feel hot. Does he know what a pussy I was back at the park? That I horribly failed? I suspect he does. I’m sure that Luca already told him everything. It is enough that he already thinks I’m useless because I want no business with the mafia. I’m sure the situation didn’t up his opinion of me in that regard.

"Why don’t you go talk to Arlo?" he says. "Keep him company. He could use someone to vent to. He has been a basket case ever since Luca told us what happened."

"Me?" I ask just to make sure that it is me that he means. "Wouldn’t it be more appropriate if Wesley went instead? Omegas are much better at connecting with the emotional stuff."

"I need to talk to Wesley. Alone."

Wesley tenses but doesn’t say a word.

"About what?" I ask.

Miles purses. I know that he hates being questioned. "About what happened at the park, obviously."

"You know that I was at the park too."

I don’t feel good about Miles’ tone and demeanor towards Wesley. They had argued earlier today and I don’t think leaving them alone would be a good thing to do now. My lack of heroism at the park may embarrass me, but I still feel the need to protect Wesley.

"I am well aware that you were at the park too." Miles rumbles.

"Then how about I join you and Wesley? I’m not sure why you’d want to talk to him and not me." I meet Miles’ irritated gaze.

Wesley turns to me. "It’s fine, Jericho. Go be with Arlo. I’m sure he is pretty shaken."

None of them wants me to be there with them, so what’s the point of arguing? "Alright then, let me know when you need to talk to me, Miles." I push past them and head up the stairs. After the pathetic performance I displayed at the park today, it’s no wonder that Wesley sees no need for my presence in the room with Miles.

Perhaps he has lost all the respect he had for me.

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