Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 41 Adelina

The ropes bit into my wrists as I dangled, barely able to keep myself from spinning on the hook. The stench of death filled the air. The tension still pressed down on us all. Alessio stepped forward, his face unreadable, and in a smooth motion, he sliced through the ropes binding me.

I stumbled, my arms dropping limply to my sides, throbbing from the strain.

The weight of Massimo’s death—my father’s death—should weigh heavier on my soul, but as I walked over to his limp body with the head twisted at an awkward angle, I didn’t feel much. Perhaps a bit of relief. But it certainly didn’t cut as deeply as I would’ve expected.

There would be no more of his bargaining with people’s lives. No trading Caterina for power like he thought he’d done with me. No convincing Sas to stand at his side. He would no longer continue to put Rafe in a position of subservience to the Parisi name.

Nonna Petra might’ve meant different things to us, but she sure as shit shaped us both. She showed me how to be a strong Italian female who carved out her way in a man’s world. But to Rafe, she represented the female his father, Ivo, had scorned.

Nonna Petra had taken it out on the wrong person; I saw that now.

And I loved Rafaele Parisi, my uncle, my protector, and my now-lover.

I never thought to hate my nonna for anything, but now I’d have to find a way to forgive her that slight. And I would spend the rest of my life trying to make up her sins against Rafe.

I wanted to collapse, but there was no time for weakness, not now. Ghost’s bloodied form hung from a metal chair and my father’s body lay broken on the floor. Alessio moved toward him, his expression cold, efficient, like he was performing a routine task.

He kneeled beside Massimo and without hesitation, drew a knife from his pocket. I watched in silence as he sliced through the flesh, sawing until he severed Massimo’s ring finger, the heavy gold signet ring still in place.

He stood and turned to Sas, holding the bloody finger and ring out toward him like an offering.

“For you,” Alessio said, his voice low. “You did the honors.”

Sas’s eyes dropped to the ring, then lifted to Alessio. My husband’s hands were still bloodied from Miguel, Ghost, and finally my father. Though there was no blood spilled with the snapped neck.

Sas, however, didn’t reach for the ring. Instead, he stepped toward me, his presence grounding me.

“It’s hers,” he said, his voice calm and firm. “I’m not Mafia. I’m only a brother in a Motorcycle Club... and her ol’ man.”

I smirked, trying to lighten the mood despite the storm raging inside me. “One of three,” I said, glancing at Graff and Rafe.

Alessio didn’t even flinch. He simply turned toward me, stripping the ring from the dead finger and holding it out in his palm. I stared at it—the weight of the legacy it carried, everything my father had built, everything I now stood to inherit.

I took it from him, the cold metal heavy in my hand. The ring was far too large, slipping easily over my fingers until it stopped at my thumb. It was fitting, really. The role I was stepping into, the weight of it all—it didn’t fit me either, not yet.

Alessio bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect I hadn’t expected. Then, without missing a beat, he leaned forward and kissed the ring on my thumb. “Donna Tate?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with deference.

“No,” I said, the words coming out before I even had time to think. “I’ll keep the Italian name for that purpose.” I paused, letting the enormity of the moment sink in. “Donna Parisi.”

Alessio nodded, accepting my declaration without hesitation. It felt strange to claim the title. Or to step into leadership over a world so far removed from the one I’d chosen with the MC. But it was mine now, whether I wanted it or not.

I pulled the ring from my thumb and tucked it into the small pocket sewn into my bra—a secret place where I could keep my father’s legacy close but hidden. The cold metal chilled my skin.

From the same hidden pocket, I pulled out two smaller rings, ones I’d been holding onto for Graff and Rafe. They weren’t Mafia rings, but they meant something more powerful. I handed one to each of them with a small smile.

It wasn’t a wedding in Italy, but it was the perfect time to make sure we all wore the symbols of our bond.

“I have three ol’ men,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Graff slid the ring onto his finger, his glistening eyes meeting mine with a mix of understanding and emotions that ran deep like a spring feeding warm waters. His eyes told me he was here for me, no matter what. Rafe took his, but he was quieter, distant, like he was still caught between worlds.

“What about the bodies?” Graff asked, his voice practical, pulling me back to the present.

I took a deep breath, the responsibility settling on my shoulders.

The bodies.

The aftermath of everything we’d done.

I faced Alessio. “Call the cleaners.”

Alessio nodded, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

“And Caterina?” Rafe asked, his voice softer, but the question stung.

My father had been working to marry her off to one of the NYC capos, a deal that would’ve expanded his empire. So what would happen to her now?

I didn’t have an answer. Not yet. My mother would need to be informed too, but I wasn’t ready to face the world or my new duties. I glanced at Rafe, then back to the room, my thoughts swirling.

“That’s a story for another day,” I said at last, knowing everything wouldn’t be solved in this moment. Rome, after all, wasn’t built in a day.

The room seemed colder now, the weight of the bloodshed settling over us like a fog. I bent down, my fingers slipping into Massimo’s jacket pocket, pulling out the keycard he always carried with him. The card felt small in my hand, insignificant compared to everything else that had happened.

But it represented more than a rectangle made of plastic. It was control. Power. The final piece of my father’s empire in the palm of my hand.

I stood up, glancing around the room at the men who were now my responsibility—my three ol’ men, and the soldiers who would now follow me. Donna Parisi. Alessio, too, but he’d left us to follow my orders.

The weight of the ring against my skin was heavy, but it was mine now. All of it was mine.

To all those still alive, I said, “Let’s go upstairs and work on forgetting all this.”