Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
Azrael
The drive over to my father’s is filled with a sense of foreboding.
I might be overthinking it, but something in my gut told me to leave Jensen at home with them.
I drag a hand through my hair, torn about my decision.
My own right-hand man, for Christ’s sake.
The one man I can rely solely on—and he’s not even part of my protection team.
No, he’s at least an hour away now. Have I just thrown myself to the wolves?
Who am I kidding? I’m part of the fucking pack, and I’d rip them apart if they so much as tried to turn on me.
One thing is for sure: I’m not afraid of them, not in the least. What I am afraid of is my father’s ability to hurt Hevan and our unborn child.
I may not want to bring a child into this dark world, but my own childhood is a prime example of why I think that way, and I’m hoping Hevan can understand that.
My leg bounces and my jaw tics, my mind at war with itself.
The SUV comes to a stop, and I glare up at Casa Forte, my nemesis. This mansion is a place of nightmares, and our father is at the center of them.
My feet hit the gravel, and I already have an overwhelming urge to smoke another cigarette, but Father will have the cigars out before dinner is served, so I opt for taking a deep breath and steeling my shoulders, then head up the stone steps into the mansion.
Vector’s spine straightens the moment I enter, and his beady eyes scan over my shoulder, his forehead creases, and his Adam’s apple bobs. His usual cocky gaze doesn’t hit mine, and he immediately bows his head, and that strikes me as odd. Where’s the sly taunts he usually throws my way?
“Is he in his office?” I query, heading in his direction.
He lifts his head to face me. “You’re early.”
“I didn’t ask you to explain my punctuality. I asked you if my father is in his office?”
“No, he’s on his way back from a meeting.”
Punctuality is something that has been drilled into us since birth. Our nonna said he nearly put a bullet in Sienna’s head because she was born a week late. So, to find myself here before him is surprising, and without Vector, even more so.
I stop in front of him, toe to toe.
“Did he not deem you worthy of protecting him tonight?” I snipe.
“Did you not deem Jensen worthy of protecting you?” he quips back, and I sharpen my gaze.
“No, he has family to attend to.” It’s not lost on me I referred to Hevan as my family, but it is something I need to become more careful of, especially to sadistic pricks like Vector. Hell, I’m practically handing over the fact I’m emotionally invested in her to the wolves.
“So, I hear,” he replies, and triumph takes over his face. “A woman and a daughter.”
Shock tightens my body, but I quickly mask the surprise. He thinks I was referring to Jensen’s family, and why wouldn’t he? The truth is, he shouldn’t know a damn thing about Jensen’s secret family. Jensen knows people who have hidden his background, so how the hell is he aware of a family?
I make a mental note to inform Jensen of the fact my father and his sick buddies may be more aware than we thought of his movements. Instead of engaging further, I throw him off the scent with a subtle dig in his direction.
“Shame, really. Not all family is worthy of our time,” I clip, holding his focus and adjusting my cufflinks.
He knows precisely what I’m referring to, and if looks could kill, I’d be ten feet under.
My lip curls at knowing I hit the nail on the head.
There’s a reason my father keeps Vector around, and another reason Vector hates me and Czar so much.
He’s one of his many bastard children, and despite him being aware of it, he’d happily marry Sienna, his half-sibling, in order to take a higher position in the Mafia.
A twisted fuck to the core, and on more than one occasion, I’ve pointed out to my father the issues inter-marrying can create in the birth of children with hopes it dispels any notions of Vector with my sister.
He’s the first to look away, and I smirk, then head in the direction of my office. I push open the door and am unsurprised to find Czar already in here with his ass in my chair and feet up on my desk. I can rely on the fact he will have checked the room for bugs already.
“Have you finished it with the maid?” I ask, and push his feet to the floor.
“She’s not a fucking maid,” he snaps back, then his face softens as if thinking about her. “She’s a schoolgirl.” A cocky grin plays on his lips, and I groan, knowing this is going to bring trouble we could do without.
“Our father has asked me to make sure you end it. You’re putting her life at risk, Czar,” I snipe back. He really can’t be this clueless. One minute, I wonder if he should have been born first, then I’m reminded of his idiocy and am grateful for being the oldest.
“Everything’s fine.” He waves his hand in my direction as if I’m being dramatic. “He’s too preoccupied with the next auction to care about me. Besides, the fights are going well, the money is rolling in, what’s it matter to him where I’m sticking my dick?”
“He wants you married off in a business deal, Czar.” His face twists in anger.
“He wants you to marry Larissa, but you haven’t done that either, have you?”
I tilt my head toward the ceiling and blow out a breath, then roll my head toward him. “Can you just tone it down with her? Be safe.” I emphasize the latter.
He snorts. “Are you asking me to stick it in her ass instead of her tight-as-fuck pussy?”
Is he serious right now?
Anger builds inside me. Why can he not be serious for one minute?
“I swear her body was made for me, and there’s no way in fuck I’m not going to witness my cum drip out of her …”
I don’t give him a chance to finish before I fly across the desk and grab him by the throat.
“Do not get her pregnant. Do you understand me?” His face reddens; my fingers press harder.
“Do you fucking understand me?” I bellow in his face, and a choked gasp splutters from his lips, forcing me to release him, and he sags back in the chair, wheezing for air.
Then I drop in the chair and drag my hand through my hair, my chest heaving as I try to rein in my lack of control.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I’m about to ignore it, but then I remember the small niggling feeling from earlier and pull it out to glance at it. When I see Jensen calling, I’ve no choice but to answer it.
“Yeah?”
“Azrael?” There’s gunfire in the background, and my body seizes up.
“Azrael, get the fuck back here.” Panic swells inside me, and I already know she’s hurt.
It resides in my soul, and it’s terrifying.
Call it intuition, a premonition maybe? All I know is my girl, my fucking heart, is in agony, and I left her to face it alone.
“I had to shoot the house up, man.” I don’t register what he’s trying to tell me; all I care about is her.
“Jensen? Jensen, is she okay?”
My brother’s gaze meets mine; his terror-stricken face mirroring my own.
“No, man,” he pants out, the horror in his voice clear. “She’s not okay; she never will be again.”