15. Rage
Chapter 15
Rage
I watch my woman walk down the red carpet with my brother, the two of them holding their heads high as cameras flash in their direction. Rebel takes the attention in stride, more focused on the woman beneath his arm than the paparazzi. Much like the photographers, he can’t take his eyes off of her radiant smile, the gentle curve of his own lips betraying his true feelings for her.
My little brother has fallen in love.
While they wait for the couple preceding them to finish their glamour shots, he tips her chin up and steals a tender kiss, earning shouts and applause from the crowd as they take dozens of photos. A blush dusts Celia’s cheeks when their lips part, and she smiles so beautifully that Rebel isn’t the only man falling in love.
We all are.
One of the men nursing a scotch beside me at the bar nods toward the approaching couple. “Who is that? The woman.” The bartender takes one glance and says Celia’s name, likely having been required to memorize every guest on the list of attendees for tonight. When he doesn’t elaborate, the guest pulls out his wallet and flashes a twenty-dollar bill. “Tell me more.”
I prepared for this exact scenario, anonymously paying the staff to keep tight-lipped about anyone within the bratva’s circle, my future wife first and foremost.
Let’s see how well this bartender can be bought off.
He stares at the cash for a second before slipping it into the breast pocket of his vest. “There’s nothing more to say. She is an esteemed guest for tonight, much like yourself.”
The other man slides the bartender a fifty-dollar bill this time. “Bullshit. You know everyone here, Gustav. I know you have some dirt on her pretty little nose.”
Gustav the bartender keeps a straight face. “Miss Monrovia is a lovely woman whose charitable contributions over the past decade have helped fund many campaigns. There is no ‘dirt’ on her nose or elsewhere.”
While the two men talk, I shuffle through the gust list in my mind, narrowing down this particular guest’s name within a few seconds. Mike Smith, a boring name for a boring man. I down the rest of my drink and slide the glass toward Gustav. Although he’s deflecting Mike’s questions well, I’d prefer he not say anything at all when it comes to Celia or the other members of my family. I count out a crisp wad of hundred-dollar bills from one of the money clips I had prepared for the evening. Ten should do it. Standing from my seat, I slide the money into Gustav’s vest pocket and pat his chest. “Keep her name off your lips for the next week. Ensure that the rest of the staff does the same, and I’ll donate tonight’s earnings to the tip jar.”
With a nod, Gustav refills my glass. “You’ve got it, boss.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” The man sitting beside me quickly stands, matching my height but not my intensity. “I’m a chairman on this board. I can have you removed from the premises in a heartbeat.”
I smile, ensuring to show all of my teeth. “You can try, Mr. Smith, but you know as well as I do that it’s a bad idea. I’d hate to show your wife how little authority you have as chairman. It might make her reconsider blowing your tiny dick in the bathroom during intermission. I’ve heard she’s a real good cocksucker. Hate for you to miss it.”
Mike Smith’s face burns bright red. “What the fuck did you just say about my wife?”
“Only the truth. I have on good authority that she gives a wicked blow job.”
He swings a punch that I catch in my fist. “Careful. Breaking hands is a favorite hobby of mine.” I squeeze until the man chokes on a squeal. With everything that’s been happening lately, I haven’t gotten to break any bones. It might do me some good to relieve a little stress on a piece of shit like this.
“Okay, okay! I’ll back off!”
What I hate more than anything is a bastard who won’t defend his family’s honor. “I just called your wife a cocksucker,” I snarl, “and you throw one punch? Does she mean so little to you?” Slamming his fist onto the counter, I press down hard until his fingers flatten. “Fucking weak. ” I down the rest of my drink before smashing the solid base of my glass into his knuckles, the sickening crack of bone music to my ears. He screams as I pound the glass into his flesh, destroying his hand.
Piece of shit husband.
Once I’m satisfied that he’ll never be able to grab his dick again, I lean over the counter and drop the bloodied glassware into the sink. “Sorry about the mess,” I tell Gustav sincerely. “How much do I owe you?”
Mike Smith has gone pale, the shock over his disfigured hand likely going to his head. I reach into his pocket and produce his wallet, counting the cash inside and handing it all to Gustav. Adding another five hundred from my money clip, I nod. “Don’t forget, now. No one says her name.”
By the time I’ve washed the blood from my hands and returned to the ballroom, the cocktails are flowing and the first round of gambling has begun. I missed the introductory speech, but I don’t much care for them, anyway, so it’s no loss. As I scan the room for Celia, Thanatos weaves through the crowd toward me.
“Should have worn the jacket,” I tell him, glancing at his outfit. Rebel can get away with the button up and slacks look, but wearing only a vest and tie? “You look like a server.”
“I look like a bouncer,” he counters, broadening his stance and clasping his hands in front of him.
“You’re not wearing all black. Bouncers wear black.”
“I could be undercover.”
“You’re not. Not for them, anyway.”
“They don’t know that.” He frowns as the guests avoid coming near us, likely sensing the tension rolling off of my older brother in waves. “She seems like she’s having a good time.”
I glance across the room to find Celia sitting in Rebel’s lap. My younger brother presses a kiss to her neck, and a wave of jealousy flares hot inside my chest. I’ll have my turn with her tonight, but taking turns is getting old. I’d much rather we all surround her at once to keep the real vultures at bay. I spot them easily, the men searching for someone to take home tonight. A few women, too, from the looks of it. But Rebel is doing a good job of making sure that Celia appears taken.
In hindsight, I should have given her a diamond ring to wear for the evening.
Or forever.
“Yeah, she does.” I watch our woman for only a few seconds before tearing my gaze away to check the rest of the room for my youngest brother. I haven’t seen Ruin since we first arrived. All it took were a few stares from arriving guests for him to bolt, disappearing before more could gawk at his facial scars. He says that he doesn’t care what people think, yet he still runs away at the first provocation.
Despite knowing this, I refused to let him bring a mask. What will it say to Celia if she loves him and he never learns to love himself? That she loves something damaged and broken?
I scoff aloud and cross my arms over my chest. There’s nothing broken about my brother, and he damn well needs to learn that fact.
It took at least an hour for him to stop gnashing his teeth about walking in here bare-faced. I imagine that he’s still brewing somewhere out of sight. “Where is he hiding?” I wonder aloud, scanning the room. “Have you seen him?”
“Who, Ruin?” Thanatos hums in the back of his throat. “Where do you think?” He tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling—or, more accurately, at the intricate catwalk erected over our heads. Although the ballroom is hardly a stage inside a theater, it’s treated as one to give the room a Las Vegas vibe. Hundreds of lights beam down at us from above, each one attached to a system of wires and metal bars that criss-cross just beneath the ceiling. It’s dark and shadowed above the bulbs, likely for effect more than anything. I’m sure as the night wares on, they’ll dim the lights so it looks like we’re standing beneath a night sky.
If Ruin is hiding somewhere, it’s up there in the rafters, like he’s a character from the Phantom of the Opera or some shit. He’s always had a flare for the dramatic. I’m sure he gets it from Rebel, the two of them feeding off of each other’s energy.
The tech crew will have access to the scaffolds and catwalk, but I have no doubt that Ruin has found his way up there, too. He’s probably smoking, too, staring down his nose at the festivities from high up above, no doubt keeping an eye out for our father as much as he is for Celia. When it’s his turn in the rotation, I imagine that he’ll carry her up there just to watch her reaction to the height and heat.
I bet it’s sweltering up there.
“He should go last,” I muse, sighing. “He’ll ruin her hair and makeup.” Not to mention her dress and shoes. The pair cost us a fortune, taking out most of Rebel’s winnings from a few nights ago. If her dress tears, someone will start a rumor that she was having sex in the bathrooms and that her lover got too rough when he lifted her dress. These parties always attract the juiciest gossip on account of how much time the clientele have on their hands.
Then again, with how uptight Than looks right now, he might need to be the start of a dirty rumor.
“Why don’t you go next,” I tell him, relinquishing my spot as Celia’s second date for the night. My fist clenches as soon as the words pass my lips, but I won’t take them back. Than needs to loosen up, or he’ll be a perpetual stick in the mud for the rest of our lives.
I know that he likes her. They could even be friends. He’s just too goddamn stubborn to admit it.
Rather than look relieved, Thanatos damn near panics. “I don’t want that. I don’t need a turn at all. I’m not here to party.” He twitches, shifting his weight from foot to foot and showing a nervous tic that I’ve never seen before.
He won’t look me in the eye.
“Are you scared of her?” Lifting an eyebrow, I study his reaction. It’s not like him to have anxiety. “Or is this about Dad? Celia made a good point the other night. He probably won’t show up without an invite.”
Good thing that Ruin and I left the bastard notes all over town. For the past week, any back alley he could have walked through had his initials painted in blood red, with a safety deposit box number that matches our old home address directly beneath it. We rented out every single box in the city with that number and placed a personal invitation to tonight’s gala inside.
If our father was waiting for an invitation, he finally has one.
I should have let Thanatos in on the secret, but if he knew that our father were actually coming, I never would have gotten him to agree to attend as a guest. Instead, he’d be perched up above in a makeshift sniper nest, scoping out the event. Although that would have come in handy when our father shows his face, we owe Ruin the kill. Thanatos would pull the trigger a dozen times before our brother could ever get close.
For that reason, I need Thanatos on the ground tonight.
But I also need him to make up with Celia and put water under the bridge. They’ve had their differences—he gave a shit apology—and they’ve been getting along better ever since their training started. I can see the tension between them softening more with each passing day. By the time the baby comes, however, I need them to be a rock solid unit like the rest of us. If I go down for any reason, I need someone responsible to be there to take care of her when I’m gone. I can’t count on Ruin to change diapers, and I sure as shit can’t count on Rebel to make our kid lunch before school. A nanny would help, but I doubt Celia wants one if it means taking away quality time with her child, and I’m not letting Adella fucking Monrovia anywhere near our family, no matter how much we might need the help.
That leaves someone like our bratva queen Valentina Baranova taking position as auntie, but for a fatherly role…
I need Thanatos.
Which means that he and Celia need to start bonding ASAP.
That can’t happen if Than is preoccupied with something else. Our father is an easy problem to solve when you get down to the brass tacks of the situation, so I doubt Than is anxious about committing patricide. Which leaves only one other possibility…
“I’ve never known you to be scared of anything,” I admit slowly, watching Than to check for cracks in his armor. They’re starting to show. “Tell me, then, what is it about Celia that’s got you tied up in knots, brother?”
Thanatos stares out at the sea of people before answering my question. He doesn’t seem surprised that I’m asking, which means that he’s been pondering that same thing. “She’s good for you.”
I wait a second before responding. “She’s good for all of us.”
He keeps his expression neutral, hiding something from me. If I had to guess, it’s that he feels guilty—either for not liking her, as he vehemently expressed when they first met at the safe house in The Backyard, or…
For liking her too much.
Until he tells me the truth, I won’t mention my suspicions. He could flee the minute our father is out of the picture, and that’s the last thing I want. We’ve already been separated for all the years he wasted chasing our father down; Thanatos deserves more than a life on the road, hunting his next kill.
He deserves a family—and I intend to give him one.
“You’re going next,” I unilaterally decide. “Give Rebel another hour with her, and then I want you to sweep her off her feet.”
Thanatos’s eyes narrow. “You can’t be serious.”
My lips curve into a smirk. “I’m dead serious. I want her to have a good time tonight. I want you to have a good time. What better way to ensure that happens than by putting two of my favorite people together?”
And if rumors fly, so fucking be it.
We’ve got the rest of our lives to prove them wrong.
“What is he doing ?” Thanatos scowls in the distance, clearly ignoring my generous gift of giving him Celia early. It’s a damn kind gesture from the depths of my heart. A valiant effort to patch our family’s holes, and he’s not even interested enough to entertain the idea?
My mood dips, and I clench my jaw to keep from rescinding the offer. He needs to spend time with Celia, and this is the easiest way to force him into it. Forcing myself to breathe, I follow Than’s gaze across the room to where Rebel and Celia are sitting. Knowing my brother, he’s either flirting too hard or pissing someone off. “He’s probably just?—”
Picking a fight.
As the man sitting opposite them topples over in his chair, Rebel pulls Celia to her feet, and the pair drifts off to another game table to claim a new seat. The man they’ve left behind on the ground clutches his leg in agony, a few guests standing around gawking while a bouncer and a paramedic rush in. Another man follows Rebel to the new table, clearly hired muscle for the event.
“Rebel,” I growl, knowing he can hear me through our earpieces. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Looks like a stab wound,” Thanatos grumbles, scowling. “I didn’t see him pull a knife, though.”
“It was under the table. Rebel. Fucking answer me.”
Neither he nor Celia pick up. “Fucker left his comms off, too.”
I’m not surprised that he would forget to turn it on in favor of turning her on. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and count to ten. “He’s going to get us in trouble.”
Thanatos lifts an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting about your little stunt at the bar?” After a moment, he sighs. “This mission was doomed before we ever started. None of you can keep your cool.” His face twists, pulling at the scar on his lips. “I’ll have to take him out myself.”
“Because that went so well before.” I can’t help but be an asshole when I’m in a bad mood. “You had years to take him out, Than. Why couldn’t you?”
“I shot him,” he grumbles, “but the bastard didn’t die. Hobbled away and went underground. There’s only so much I can do without bratva resources behind me, Rage.” He scowls at me. “In case you’ve forgotten, when I left, I was exiled. I ran into old teammates on the road, and they pretended I didn’t exist. Completely ignored me in fear of the consequences.”
“That was Tolkotsky’s era, not Andrei’s.” It’s ominous to speak our old pakhan ’s name, but the bastard is dead and buried. “For what it’s worth, you were dealt a shit hand. I know you left for good reason, and I don’t fault you for it.” I jab my fist against his chest. “But this shit right here? Stop doubting it. We’ll kill him—together.”
“ Tonight ,” he vows, nodding. “Yeah. Okay.”
We watch as Rebel and Celia get up from their table again and quickly disappear into the men’s restroom. After a moment, Celia’s voice fills my ear.
“That’s not the point. You can’t lose focus tonight. This is too important.”
“Damn right it is,” I mutter, sighing. As we listen to their conversation, I study Thanatos’s face. He takes a drink from a passing server and leans against a support beam for the monstrous city of lights over our heads. Ruin must be listening and lurking, too, all of us hanging on Rebel and Celia’s every word.
They’re arguing.
It’s short-lived, however, with Rebel groaning that he’s rock hard.
“Again?” I snap. “Why the fuck are you hard?”
Thanatos’s mouth presses into a thin line as he swirls the drink in his hand without taking a sip.
Ruin’s voice suddenly joins the conversation. “Where are you? I can’t see you.”
“We’re in the men’s room. Rebel stabbed someone.”
“Called it,” Than grunts. Then, louder, “You two need to cool it. We just got here, and you’re already maiming people. Save it for Dad.”
“Someone else got hurt? Who?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Fucking galas—always a mess. “Doesn’t matter.” Mike Smith will keep his mouth shut if he knows what’s good for him.
Celia asks if we should switch, and I think it’s a damn fine idea. I’m about to suggest that Thanatos go next when Rebel starts talking again, muttering about how good Celia looks with a weapon, until finally, he says something that catches all of our attention.
“You’ll let me fuck you with one, right? Please?”
I clench my fists by my sides. I need a fucking drink for this conversation. “ Rebel. ”
Softer than the rest of them, Ruin’s voice suddenly whispers in our ears. “She creamed all over my knife.”
Thanatos’s eyes damn near bug out of his skull. My ears ring as I process the image burning into my mind: Celia lying on her back, completely naked, while my little brother spreads her legs with the tip of his knife. Then what? When was this?
Rebel’s voice rasps in my ear, sounding as turned on as I feel inside. “Did she take it all the way?”
Fuck. Than is right—we’re all distracted. Way too goddamn distracted.
But so is Thanatos—a vein in his neck throbs in time with his jackhammer heartbeat, and he’s about to crush the glass in his hands. I pull it away from him and down the entire drink in one swallow, feeling the burn all the way to my soul. We’re sinners for wanting to see our girl with a knife in her pussy. Depraved. Savages.
Then Ruin slams the nail in the coffin for all of us. “She can take more. Her pussy wants more.” His voice cracks as he asks Rebel if she’s wet. “I want a taste,” he admits softly.
My throat clicks on a swallow. So do I, brother.
Judging from the way Thanatos licks his lips, I’m thinking that he does, too.
Can I share her with another man, though? I grit my teeth as I fight wave after wave of possessive fury roaring in my veins. It’s hard enough sharing her with Rebel and Ruin—adding Thanatos to the roster just might kill me. That’s four men vying for her attention—when all I want is her eyes on me. Haven’t I sacrificed enough for this family? Or do I have one more in me?
Rebel’s voice derails my train of thought. “Don’t run away, beautiful. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. A little knife play is fun. It’s kinky. We like it.”
Yeah, we like it a lot.
“Maybe I’m not running away,” Celia counters lightly. “Maybe I’m running to something. Who brought the biggest knife, boys?”
Thanatos crumples, bending at the waist like he’s been stabbed in the heart. I snicker, knowing that he brought a gun to a knife fight. Shit , but so did I. The one time that a gun loses that battle has to be tonight?
Celia emerges from the men’s room, a bounce in her step and a smile beaming across her face. She blows Rebel a kiss before turning to the room—and the three men ravenous for her wet fucking pussy to sit on our faces.
“I think it’s time for a switch. Any volunteers?”
There’s a flicker of light from above, and I can hear thudding footsteps through our comms. I scoff, knowing that if it’s a fight between Rebel and Ruin to snatch Celia up, even if Rebel has a head start, Ruin’s going to win. He’ll pluck her from the crowd like a daisy from a meadow—without anyone noticing that she’s gone missing.
“Tough luck,” I tell Thanatos, clapping his shoulder. “You’ll still get your turn tonight, just not next.”
It looks like Ruin has the honor of stretching our girl’s pretty pussy with his knife—and to be honest, I wouldn’t have it any other way.