Confessions

“Oh, Heavenly Father…”

Listening, Winslet kept her head down, one eye closed, the other drawn. The pastor relished preaching during the official Sunday service. However, he was not the one who warranted Winslet’s eye. No, that honor was left to Aunt Antionette.

““Amen.””

“Amen…”

Winslet’s slight delay garnered an eye in return.

“Can you at least try it?”

“I am.”

“Do not lie in the house of God, child.”

Winslet would have jumped the row to drag Antionette down the aisle if not for Ronnie grabbing her arm.

“Ron!”

“It is not a good time.”

“It seems to never is,” Winslet sneered.

“With how things went last night, let her have this.”

Winslet sat rigid, her mind running on the recent attack on their home. It was due to this that Sunday morning church service felt less like a sacred tradition and more like a plea for solace.

It gave Antoinette ammunition to express herself in a more performative manner. Her gratitude to the Heavenly Father for their family’s miraculous survival.

Yet gratitude rang hollow when Winslet considered the cost. Sophia, among many of the surviving staff, remained confined to a hospital bed, her wounds a stark testament to the violence that had invaded their sanctuary. Gianni, once vibrant, now lay buried.

As the family listened, Ronnie felt a subtle tap on his shoulder during the choir’s melodious performance. A hushed whisper broke through the sacred music, drawing his attention. Discreetly, he glanced toward the confessionals, noting the few individuals lingering in the shadowed alcoves, their presence weighted with unspoken intentions.

“I’ll be right back. Please act accordingly while I am gone.”

His words only garnered a soft, annoyed sound from Winslet. She bristled at the news, given that she would be alone with people who remarkably avoided her at every possible turn despite being called family. Virgil was the only exception, but he stood watch by the door.

Disturbed, her face twisted, only for the young ones nearby to tease her. They shared their own funny faces, sticking their tongues out. Playfully, Winslet did the same, only to hear words of contempt from her “Aunt.”

“Such an uncouth thing you are.”

Antionette’s remark only inspired a few unsavory ideas. Winslet bit her tongue, burying her heels into the ground, recounting Ronnie’s words. She did not promise! Yet, all the same, she believed she could at least try.

“Please, just focus on your prayers and the man up in front. Leave me be.”

“I cannot,” Antoinette supplied with her back turned. “Reggie plucked you out of a bed of flowers. Whatever he saw through those rough edges must have been worth it not to be with us today.”

“I am sorry. Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“It is just the words of an old woman. Believe it or not, I deeply pray for this family. It is what my husband would want in his current absence.”

Her words were humorous to hear. For no matter how down Antionette may look upon Winslet, they both were women who lost their husbands to the Grim Reaper and their children.

“Sorry about Louisa. I heard she was a fascinating girl. It’s a shame I didn’t get to meet her. Who knows, from what I heard, she and I would have been great friends.”

“Hmph,” Antionette huffed. “I suppose in a certain light, you two are similar. Both disappointments. Both listening to voices in your troublesome heads.”

Her bitter words left Winslet feeling the urge to dig her nails into the bench, desperately fighting the impulse to claw out the eyes of the one before her.

With a silent snarl, she stepped aside to take a moment to collect herself as Ronnie emerged from the confessional. A single glance was all it took for him to grasp what had just unfolded.

“Please forgive her,” Ronnie sighed, obviously not knowing what exact words were exchanged. “If there is any time or place, it is here.”

“She’s doing it, Ron, she’s—one of these days! It’s going to snap, and I, I…”

“You have worked so hard. Reggie would be proud.”

Ronnie’s words were like a cool dose of water on a raging fire, which was Winslet’s temper. Her pacing back and forth slowed as she palmed her chest as if that would steady it. From the corner of Ronnie’s shoulder, she snuck a glance to see who exited the other side of the confessional, trying to hide who they were by being as discreet as possible.

For many, his identity might have gone unnoticed. Winslet saw the truth, transparent as a pristine river, glimmering in a glass.

Lionel Icarus Crane. The city’s district attorney and someone who recently has been garnering a lot of attention for himself for his anticorruption push with a certain congressman. This makes the Winters family a colossal fish to catch because of their history of lucrative ventures.

“How curious,” Winslet whispered. “What was all that about?”

“Nothing…”

“If it were nothing, you wouldn’t have been gone as long as you were. To leave me with that vile woman.”

“You could have shuffled over. I am sure cousin Vinny would have been excited to keep you company.”

“The old kook doesn’t know where his shoes are even with them on.”

“Fair enough. But Winslet…”

“Right, right, now’s not the time.”

For a moment, Ronnie stared at her. He sighed heavily as he grabbed her arm to move her further from prying ears. “It was a warning. My conversation with our city’s D.A. was an air of caution.”

His words spurred Winslet’s mind to run on several gangs and groups within the city. The Winters’ iron grip on the city’s underground trade—especially drugs and weapons—meant few dared to challenge their authority.

However, that was in the not-so-distant past. The majority of their shares and cash flow now came from investments in more legitimate businesses. The various gangs who held any wit about them either played to their strengths to be on their best behavior in front of the Winters or willingly took to being their lapdogs.

Of course, Winslet grappled with whether it was bold or stupid, and possibly both, to bare such fangs towards them.

“An air of caution? Are you saying Crane, of all people, cares enough to provide you with a warning?”

“Well,” Ronnie whispered. “Technically, the whole family.”

“Okay… So, who is moving in on us? Did he mention a name? The Lees? The Eggertons?”

Ronnie scanned the area before leaning in. ‘The Mayor,’ he whispered, the name barely a breath.

Unable to believe his words, Winslet stepped back. There was no possible way, given that the man owed his position to the family.

“That doesn’t make sense. Why would—he owes you.”

“He owes my father, who is now dead. Trust me, I wouldn’t believe it either if Crane had not said so...” Ronnie’s voice trailed off, laden with a mixture of disbelief and resignation.

Rumors circulated Crane would seek the mayor’s office. He had great influence in public opinion.

“Wait a minute,” Winslet spoke, her eyes studying Ronnie from head to toe. “Oh, my—you’ve been backing Crane. All those meetings I was not allowed to be a part of — the late-night calls with your cousin Silas?! Are you trying to tell me last night—the Mayor had a hand in that?!”

“That’s the rumor, according to Crane. Apparently, Hunt had made some promises to his new powerful friends. Whoever that Scarecrow thing worked for went missing. Turned up to off Crane before getting a call, another call. I supposed to keep us in line and not have any funny ideas in...”

“Hold on,” Winslet’s voice rose. “Funny ideas? Why would we have funny ideas? Are you—don’t tell me. Luca’s death — was that because you’ve been moving with Crane?”

“Winslet, please. Your voice...”

“Don’t hush me!”

Winslet backed away several more paces, her anger boiling over. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

“Winslet...”

“SHUT UP!”

The two stood in pure, tense silence. It felt like it could have gone on forever if not for Ronnie breaking the ice.

“How was I supposed to know? We are no longer the main distributors of Wolfsbane. I am trying to keep this family from falling back into its old habits. And because of that, some are losing respect for us, for who we are.”

“Who we are?!” Winslet shot back. “You’re a bloody Winters! People fear the name alone.”

“Not the Mayor. Not anymore. It seems he’s been getting really comfortable with his new friends. He wouldn’t have made a move like that if he did. You must have noticed others as well, right? We are losing the influence in this city, one neighborhood at a time. If the local mobs and gangs aren’t looking to work for us, who will they turn to?”

One crime family had already been wiped clean off this city’s map. If one had to guess, one would assume the Winters absorbed all their assets. Mostly, that was true; however, there was one place that remained untouchable — even more so than the Winters. The Velvet Royal Heights.

Many esteemed folks come and go through those doors. They sing of it in high praises for their impeccable services. But it was more than just the local elite that stayed their fair share of nights within those walls. Many international players, gangs, clubs, and folks of influence were well connected to the place.

In the eyes of those who sat at the top, the Winters were nothing more than a small-town gang. Money could buy a lot, but fear was something that rocked you deep to the core, put you in your place, and reminded you of it for years to come.

“Ron, what are you saying? That the mayor plans to take us all out.”

“Last night looked to be an obvious message. For someone to escape police custody when we have more than half of the force in our back pocket doesn’t sit well with me. Yeah, I overheard the conversation with the lieutenant. Winslet, tell me—”

“Tell you what? Did you forget I am not wanted at our family meetings? As I recall, now is not the time. Outsiders are outsiders.”

“Winslet... if the Mayor is planning on making a move to clean house. Who knows how much longer I have?”

His words struck her harder than she would care to admit. The men in her family who embodied kindness seemed eternally marked—destined to be extinguished as swiftly and inevitably as moths drawn to an unforgiving flame.

Her gaze fell on his arm. An unspoken truth pressed against her, forcing her to bite her lip against the rising tide of fear.

“Ron…” The name hung between them.

“I know faith isn’t your refuge,” Ronnie said, his voice soft yet resolute. “But I dragged you here instead of leaving you at home because it would mean a lot if you prayed with me. We both know what they say. Just like Reggie, something somewhere will come. For all we know, last night could have been it.”

Winslet looked away, unable to meet his gaze. His eyes bore a painful resemblance to Reggie’s. They were nearly identical, distinguished only by the subtle differences in grooming and vision. Ronnie’s carefully combed hair and his preference for contacts where Reggie would have worn glasses made a world of difference.

Yet beneath those familiar eyes resided a compassion uniquely Ronnie’s. Where Antoinette’s gaze carried disdain, his radiated an unconditional love that transcended blood. He was her brother in every way that mattered, and the possibility of losing him carved a hollow ache deep within her.

“Fine,” she whispered, a bashful surrender. “I’ll humor your request. I’ll share what I know, but…” The unfinished thought hung in the air—a silent vow. She would protect him at all costs. She could not—would not—permit another loss.