Chapter 19
Aron
No less than ten Syndicate officers try to stop me as I flee the mansion.
I do my best to deflect any questions, claiming that “urgent Syndicate business” crap, but some of the men refuse to take that as an answer.
A couple genuinely want to help with whatever I’m doing, but some are just bored and nosey.
We clearly haven’t given them enough to do while we plot against Dad.
If I ever decide to speak to Matt again—and if he survives his insane fight with Grady—I’ll have to suggest we give the men more work to occupy them.
I storm out the mansion’s gates with no specific direction in mind, plowing through the trees and underbrush of the woods that surround the estate.
The snapping branches and crunching leaves telegraph my presence to anyone within earshot, which is incredibly stupid of me, but at this point, I don’t care.
I just need to get out, to find someplace where I can think.
Knowing Matt, I won’t be able to stop him now that he’s got his mind set on fighting Grady.
As much as Matt cares about me, he’s too stubborn to back down from something like this.
He clearly sees Grady as a threat that needs neutralizing, and rather than fucking shooting the bastard, he thinks it’s a grand idea to sacrifice himself on the minute chance he might win.
I don’t know what to do. Matt the Lover might have thought twice about it, but he’s acting as Matt the Don.
How can I challenge the don? I can’t exactly contradict him in public, and my attempt to talk him out of it privately failed.
My only hope now is to find a way to either stop the fight from happening or interrupt it before Matt’s killed.
Shit. I can’t interrupt it. Not in front of the whole damned Syndicate. They’ll view that as disobedience at best, at worst a sign of Matt’s weakness. If they start seeing Matt as weak, the whole fucking enterprise will crumble like these leaves I’m walking on.
Is there really no other option? Will Matt really force me to watch him commit suicide by Grady?
My steps slow to a halt as I realize that there’s nothing I can do. I lash out, punching the closest tree. My knuckles crack and bleed, and when I look, there are bits of bark and dirt embedded in them.
Something about the sight, the blood and the mess, sets me off.
I attack the tree trunk like it’s a punching bag in the gym.
Over and over again, I hit the tree. Each punch stings and burns, further ripping my skin and leaving more and more bits of bark in my knuckles.
Right. Left. Right. Left. Jab. Jab. Jab.
Hook. Uppercut. Every way I can possibly damage both the tree and myself.
By the time I’ve worn myself out, there are several patches of trunk that have been stripped of their bark, the bare spots smeared with red. My hands are raw, dripping blood, and I’m not entirely sure I haven’t broken something.
I pant and heave, staring at the mess I made. A strange, eerie calm settles over me, and I lean my forehead against the rough bark as tears stream from my eyes.
I’m going to lose him. There’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.
Defeated and in pain, my shoulders sag as I sob quietly into the tree trunk. If Matt dies tonight, I’ll have lost everything twice in a matter of days. My whole world is crumbling like this tree bark, exploding before my eyes yet again.
A soft crunch alerts me to another’s presence, and I whip around, throwing a wild left hook at whoever dares to approach.
Matt catches my fist with ease.
“What the fuck are you doing, Aron?”
I avert my gaze, unable to meet Matt’s intense glare. “I’m chopping fucking firewood. What else does it look like?”
“It looks like my primary guard just beat the shit out of his hands.”
“Is that all I am to you?” My voice has a bitter edge to it. “Your primary guard?”
Matt uses his grip on my fist to pull me into an embrace. Rather than fighting it, I go limp in his arms. He strokes my hair as fresh tears fall.
“Shh. It’s going to be okay, Aron. I won’t let him beat me.”
“He’s a fucking killer, Matt. That’s literally his entire reason for being. He’ll rip you apart for the fun of it. I can’t do this. I can’t watch another person I love be torn to bits.”
“Hey.” He pulls back and cups my cheeks with his hands. “What are we, Aron?”
I sniffle and wipe my snotty nose with the back of my hand. “We’re the Royal Syndicate.”
“And what does that mean?”
I stand up straighter, squaring my shoulders. “We rule.”
Matt smiles. “Damn fucking skippy. We’ve earned that right through blood, sweat, and tears. Grady hasn’t earned a damn thing.”
His lips meet mine in a passionate kiss, and bit by bit he inches me back to the tree trunk. Once my back is flush with the trunk, he fumbles with the fly on my slacks. His movements are hasty and erratic, and he groans into my mouth.
“They’re expecting us back,” I mutter into him.
“Let them wait,” he says as he pulls my cock free. “I need this—need you—before I face Grady tonight.”
Matt works my cock hard with a few feverish strokes. I thrust into his hand, moaning as his tongue probes my mouth. He places his other hand on the tree trunk, steadying himself, and before I shrink back inside myself from the early fall cold, he grinds his hips against me, creating warm friction.
“This is why I’ll win,” he murmurs, fondling my balls. “You are why I’ll win. Grady has no one. He has no reason to live. I have every reason to live, every reason to survive, every reason to come out on top.”
“Speaking of being on top,” I pant, “should I turn around?”
“No.” He yanks my pants down, grabs my hips, and hefts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and moan as he spits onto this hand and fingers my ass, lubing me with his warm saliva.
When he deems me ready, he pulls out his own hard cock and positions for entry.
I cry out the moment he spears me, shuddering and clinging to him.
His strong arms hold me aloft, and he kisses me hungrily while he works his way inside me.
Soon, we’re both shouting our desires as Matt fucks me into the tree.
If not for the expensive fabric of my suit, my back might end up as trashed as my hands, though I worry about my ability to sit properly for a while after this.
The rough bark scratches my ass cheeks with each thrust.
I realize how dangerous this is, how risky.
If anyone from the Syndicate were to find us like this, our secret would be out.
There might be some of our members who would side with Matt and me, who would look past the gay sex, but others would reject us.
I could easily see a mass exodus of Syndicate employees fleeing to join Javier if we were found out.
One witness is all it would take to tip the tides in Dad’s favor.
All this flits through my mind in a heartbeat, replaced instantly when Matt twists his hips and hits a different angle. I shudder and shout, and Matt comes deep inside me, pinning me to the tree with his hard body.
The moment is entirely too brief. Soon we’re disentangling, separating, cleaning up. Matt helps me readjust my clothes since my hands are still oozing.
“C’mon, baby,” he says softly. “I had Jules wait at the edge of the property. We should go back.”
I stiffen at the mention of our senior officer. I’d been so upset that I forgot Matt never goes anywhere alone. Someone had to come with him, which means someone possibly heard us. If Jules tells anyone …
“It’s okay, Aron. Just come home with me.”
“But Jules—”
“Is loyal, and he knows how to keep his mouth shut.” Matt strokes my cheek. “Come on.”
We trudge back through the woods with Matt holding my upper arm, like he’s bringing me in for some infarction. I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done, but if it keeps up appearances, then so be it. I’ll just keep quiet until we’re alone again.
The stares as we reenter the estate are … uncomfortable. I suppose I can’t blame them. My father betrayed the Syndicate not even a week ago, and now it appears that I’m in trouble for something. Do they think I’m a turncoat as well?
I brought this on myself, I guess. I’ll be lucky if someone doesn’t take this as an opportunity to get closer to Matt, to suck up to the don by taking out another traitor.
When we reach the middle of the courtyard at the end of the drive, where most people have congregated, Matt stops. He raises my hand and slowly meets the eyes of every man and woman standing there.
“See this blood? This is the kind of loyalty I expect here at the Syndicate.”
Wait, what?
He continues, and I try to keep my face neutral despite my surprise.
“There was a spy in the woods. Sensors didn’t pick him up, but Aron found him.
Hunted him down. Slaughtered him.” He waves towards the woods with his other hand.
“Don’t bother going to see the evidence.
We’ve disposed of what was left. Let this be a warning to anyone who thinks they can pull a fast one on Don Matteo or on Aron here. We. See. Everything.”
Murmurs and hushed whispers ripple through the small crowd. Gia beams as if in pride, but I find it hard to believe, knowing what I know. She’s probably putting on a face for the rest of them, faking it to build on the rumor of our supposed relationship.
Matt takes me straight to the physicians’ wing, barring anyone else from entering while I’m patched up.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t stay. He leaves as soon as I’m in the doctors’ capable hands, claiming the need to get ready for his fight with Grady.
He pats me on the back, gives me a “Good job, my friend,” and walks out before the first cut is even clean.
I allow the doctors to clean and stitch my wounds, put a few adhesive strips on them, and inject me with strong antibiotics, but when they start to apply the stark white bandages, I decline.
I want everyone to see.
Let them see the angry, red skin.
Let them see the stark black stitching.
Let them see everything I did to myself.
Whether they believe Matt’s story about the spy, or whether they know the truth, let them see the lengths I’m willing to go to protect him.
Even from himself.