Lachlan
Mam would’ve cried tonight.
Da would’ve stood at the back with his arms crossed, pretending he didn’t feel anything, but his eyes would’ve given him away.
Ten years was a long time to stay angry at your sons. Too long.
Lucian deserved them here.
He’d stood in the middle of Xyst—on our dance floor—and asked the woman he loved to marry him as if there was nothing in this world other than her. Then they’d gone to the church and come back to celebrate their union in the place we built from nothing but stubbornness.
Xyst had closed its doors for the first time in its history tonight—for the family we chose.
I dragged the cloth over the bar top, slow and steady, caught in my own head as I thought about how far we’d come.
A few of the staff were still breaking down decorations and boxing up flowers to send to Lucian and Scarlett’s place. There’d been red roses everywhere. Lucian’s only request to Sofia and Aria—and they’d delivered.
It was late, and we still had to reset for tomorrow. Then I was getting out of here.
A sudden commotion at the front door cut through the quiet.
“Closed means closed!” Slade barked from the entrance.
“You’ll want to rethink that,” a man answered back.
I set the rag down and moved around the end of the bar.
Two NYPD uniformed officers stepped inside first.
Then she walked in behind them.
A petite dynamo with long black hair, dressed in a tailored navy suit and crisp white blouse, marched toward me without hesitation.
Beautiful.
She didn’t look around as if she were impressed. Instead, her eyes scanned the place in a single pass and then focused on me.
“Who’s responsible for this establishment?” she asked.
Her confident voice cut across the room.
“I am,” I replied.
Her eyes met mine. No fear. No second-guessing.
Interesting.
She stepped closer and held out a folder.
“Isabella Delgado,” she said. “I represent the plaintiff in a civil action filed against Club Xyst and its ownership group. I’m also here regarding a temporary suspension of your liquor license pending administrative review.”
Delgado.
The name hit before the rest of her words did.
My hand tightened around the folder.
“What did you say your last name was?” I asked.
Her brow arched slightly. “Delgado.”
“Related to Ciro Delgado?” I barked.
She blinked. “I don’t know who that is.”
Her reaction was calm, without a trace of defensiveness.
Either she was a very good liar or she really didn’t know him.
She continued before I could question her further.
“On May twenty-fifth of last year, an underage male entered these premises using fraudulent identification. He consumed alcohol while on site and later sexually assaulted a young woman in connection with this establishment. When confronted, he physically attacked a responding NYPD officer.”
I ran a hand over my chin, remembering something about an incident with a drunk, underage kid that Ana and Luca had dealt with.
One of our patron’s idiot younger cousins had thought money made him untouchable, but nothing about a woman being assaulted.
Luca had quietly fixed that mess, using his NYPD contacts to bury it.
Apparently not well enough.
“The victim has filed a civil suit,” she went on. “Additionally, the city has opened a compliance review based on evidence of systemic negligence.”
She spoke as if she were already in court.
The officers moved past us toward the bar, beginning a quiet inspection.
Fuck.
After everything Lucian’s been through the last few weeks, this was the last thing he needed on his wedding night.
Luca was going to be pissed as hell when he saw which precinct signed off on that order too. Someone inside the NYPD’s Sixth Precinct had either gotten sloppy or switched sides.
“You’ll need to speak with our attorneys about this,” I said, trying to hand the folder back to her.
She refused to take it.
“This isn’t a courtesy notice. It’s an enforcement action. If you and your partners cooperate, this can be handled efficiently. If you don’t, we escalate.”
Her tone didn’t rise—it didn’t have to. She was used to commanding attention.
I looked down at the paperwork again.
Delgado.
My pulse kicked hard in my throat.
“You’re telling me this is about a drunk kid who shouldn’t have been here,” I said evenly, “and a fight with a cop.”
“And a woman who was assaulted,” she shot back.
There it was, that righteous indignation.
She had no idea the men she was accusing would skin someone alive for assaulting a woman.
The irony almost made me laugh.
Instead, I studied her.
The way she stood there, looking up at me, her fist braced on her cocked hip.
The way she didn’t back up an inch when I stepped closer.
She thought I was posturing.
She thought she was the only dangerous one in the room.
“Good thing I’m shutting this place down then,” she added, jutting her chin in the air. “This place reeks of illegal activities.”
Shutting this place down.
Was this woman serious?
This wasn’t just a club. It wasn’t just liquor licenses and paperwork.
We had all bled for Xyst in one way or another, establishing it as neutral ground where family men and politicians could work out their differences.
I’d be damned if some sassy-mouthed hotshot attorney in a navy suit was going to bring it down because of some idiot kid a few months shy of bein’ legal.
“Forty-eight hours,” she said, tapping the folder lightly. “After that, we escalate.”
She turned and walked back toward the entrance, heels clacking against the floor.
Isabella Delgado.
I watched as she nearly ran Slade over on her way out.
Damn.
Lucian didn’t need this tonight.
It could wait until tomorrow, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to fuck up his wedding night.
I didn’t know what game this woman thought she was playing.
But if she believed she could stir up shit, she didn’t understand the men she was dealing with.