Chapter 24
Brax
The cursor blinks on the last line of red code, the kind that eats through firewalls like acid and still leaves you with nothing but a dead screen and a warning you can't unsee. I stare at it anyway, knuckles tight around my mouse, jaw locked so hard my molars protest.
Access denied.
You shouldn't be here.
Leave now.
I brace for my computer to blow up again, but it stays lit.
Whoever built the Underworld's digital perimeter didn't just slam a door in my face. They stood on the other side and whispered my name through the keyhole.
I lean back in my chair and roll my neck once, twice, letting the ache slide down into my shoulders. I glance out the window.
The Chicago traffic hums below. I stare at it until the wall radiator roars like a bomb, then return to my project.
Six monitors glow in front of me, each one waiting for my next move.
I tap my fingers on the desk, then stop myself.
I open a new window and start running a trace back through the access denial, hunting for a breadcrumb I can yank into daylight. The minute I do, the same looping red warning flashes on a side screen. Not as text this time but as a pulsing block in the shape of a heartbeat.
Cute.
They're watching in real time.
I tilt my beer bottle to my mouth, swallow, then set it down with a soft thunk. The doorbell rings, and I freeze.
I'm not used to unannounced visitors who ring the bell. Sean normally knocks or uses the code for the keypad. Valentina has it as well.
The bell rings again, sharper, impatient.
I stand, cross the hallway, and check the peephole.
Brenna.
My chest tightens in a way I don't appreciate. I haven't seen or talked to her since I married Valentina and all hell broke loose. I cautiously open the door.
She stands in the corridor wearing black leggings, a loose sweatshirt, hair twisted up like she threw it there on the drive over. No makeup, no jewelry. Just Brenna, raw edges and all, eyes bright with the kind of hurt that makes you want to punch a wall on her behalf.
"Hey," I say, voice rougher than I intend.
She brushes past me. "I'm not here for small talk, Brax."
"Good. I'm not in a small-talk mood."
She turns in my living room, arms folded, gaze slicing me. In a pained voice, she says, "Did I do something to you?"
I shut the door and lean my shoulder into it. "What do you mean?"
Her laugh cracks out, humorless. "Don't do that. Not today."
I scrub a hand over my face. "Brenna—"
"You didn't tell me about Valentina. Then you get married and stop talking to me."
My instincts flare, the same ones that made me survive alleys and cages and rings. I keep my expression blank. "Finn's not talking to me."
"So I get punished, too?"
I sigh. "I'm sorry. I thought you would be mad, too."
Her eyes flash. "Oh, I'm mad all right. I'm pissed you got married, didn't invite me, and still haven't even introduced me to your wife."
"She's an Abruzzo. Or didn't you get the memo?" I tease, but it's in bad taste and comes out stale.
"That's bullshit, and you know it." She steps closer, voice shaking but sharp.
"You walked into our lives as a kid with nothing but street dirt under your nails, and I treated you like blood before you even had the name.
You slept under my roof. You ate at my table.
You called me family. And now I hear through the grapevine that you got married and couldn't spare me one damn sentence? "
Guilt eats me. I open my mouth, then close it again. There's no clean answer. There's only truth, and it's messy.
She blinks hard.
I soften my tone. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
She lowers her voice. "Intent doesn't erase impact."
"That's a fair statement."
Silence forms.
"Come sit down," I offer, push off the door, and walk into the kitchen, needing movement so I don't say something stupid. I grab a water bottle from the fridge, twist it open, and take a long drink. I hand one to her and grab a barstool, admitting, "I thought you'd take Finn's side."
"Oh, I'm on his side. I'm livid you didn't bother to tell me anything about her or your nuptials," she declares.
My grip tightens on the plastic until it crinkles. "It wasn't a wedding you send out invites for."
She taps her water bottle. "That's not the point. The point is you made a choice that changes this family, and you left me out of it, then didn't even fill me in."
I set the bottle down, searching for the truth so I don't have to lie to her. "It all happened really fast."
"And you didn't think to slow down and invite your family to your wedding?"
I grunt. "I married an Abruzzo."
"So I've heard."
"You've seen how Finn's reacting," I offer.
She takes a sip of water, then replies, "Not an excuse, Brax." Her hurt flares again. She looks away.
My pulse tics. I put my hand on hers. "I'm sorry, Brenna. The last person I'd ever want to hurt is you."
She turns toward me. "What's she like?"
Warmth fills my chest. My lips twitch. I don't have to think. It all rolls out. "She's...she's beautiful. And smart. Way too smart for me. She's also infuriating, stubborn, complicated, and brave."
Her face softens. A tiny smile forms, but she asks, "Is she dangerous?"
I hold her gaze. "She can hold her own. But she would never try to hurt the people I love or me."
Brenna's eyes flicker with something I can't put my finger on. She blurts out, "Then you're to bring her to dinner tonight."
The sentence hits so fast my brain stalls. "What?"
She sits back in her chair. "I want to meet your wife, Brax."
"Brenna, that's not—" I search for a word that won't make this worse. "Expected."
"Well, I didn't exactly expect it when Finn brought you home fifteen years ago."
I stare at her, caught between gratitude and the old, brutal instinct to keep everyone I love away from incoming fire.
She keeps going, voice lower now, gentler. "You're family. If she's family too, then I need to know her. Not through rumors. Not through Finn's silence or anger. Through my own eyes."
Finn's silence.
I scrub my face in frustration. "What about Finn? He still won't talk to me. Every morning, I see him at the gym, and he ignores me. Pretty sure I'm not welcome in your house."
Brenna's gaze dips, then lifts again with a steadiness I recognize from the times she overrules Finn. "I talked to him."
My stomach knots. "He knows you're here?"
"Of course. And he knows I'm inviting you to dinner."
I blink. "He agreed?"
She scoffs. "He will be on his best behavior."
I stare at her in shock. Then I rub the back of my neck. "You realize what you're asking could put you in the middle of something ugly."
"You think this is the first time I've been in the middle of ugly?"
"Touché."
Her eyes sharpen. "Is Valentina a permanent fixture in your life?"
I study her, thrown by the sudden pivot.
"You married her," Brenna says quietly, like she's stripping away the excuses before I can reach for them. "Is she permanent, or is this something you did and regret?"
The question slides right under my ribs and hooks something tender I didn't know was there. Before I married Valentina, I told myself I was trapped. That this was a chess move, a leash, a play I'd break the moment I got a chance.
Permanent tastes like gunpowder and promise. But the moment I gave her that ring, I was already all in, so I don't lie. "Yes. She's permanent."
Brenna's breath catches. Then her shoulders loosen in a way I didn't expect, relief braided with something like hope. "Great. Dinner's at six. Don't be late."
I nod once, slow. "Okay."
She rises and holds her arms out. "Good. Give me a hug."
I chuckle, then hug her harder than I ever have, happy to see her and know she's still in my life.
She pulls back. "See you at six." She walks toward the door.
"Why are you okay with this?" I blurt out.
She freezes, then spins. She studies me for a moment while my pulse beats between my ears.
She tilts her head, sadness fills her expression, and she answers, "Because my parents didn't accept Finn.
They thought he wasn't good enough and hated him.
It changed the trajectory of our lives. So Finn and I are going to do better. "
A cold chill runs down my spine. It's the first time I've ever heard of this. I know about Finn and Brenna's love story, but I spent a lot of time with her dad before he passed. I look at her in question.
"Some day, I'll tell you about it. Not today," she says.
I don't push. "Okay."
She smiles big. "Bring your wife to dinner. Let's fix things before they get worse."
Hope fills me. "I'd like that."
"Good. It's settled." She hugs me again, pulls back, and her voice turns sharp again. "One more thing?"
"Yeah."
"If she hurts you, Abruzzo or not, I will bury her myself."
I huff a laugh. "Noted. But she won't," I insist before I even realize I already believe it.
"Good." Brenna heads for the door, pauses with her hand on the knob, then looks over her shoulder. "You're not alone. You've not been since you entered our lives. That doesn't change because you do something Finn doesn't approve of."
The words land harder than she realizes. I choke up, so I just nod.
She leaves, door clicking shut behind her, and I stand in shock.
Underworld shadows still sit on my monitors. O'Malley punishments aren't over. Finn's silence hasn't broken.
But tonight, Brenna wants my wife at her table.
I grab my phone off the counter, thumb hovering over Valentina's contact, my pulse running too fast for a man who swears he doesn't get cornered.
"Permanent fixture," I mutter to myself, smiling. Then I hit the call button. It connects on the second ring.
Her voice barrels in, teasing, "What happened? Who died?"
My lips twitch. "Good afternoon to you, too, Minx."
She chirps, "You never call me in the middle of the day unless there's a crisis."
I say, leaning back in my chair. "There is. We're going to dinner."
Excitement hits her voice. "Dinner? As in food? In public? Together?"
"That is normally what the word means."