10. Lachlan
LACHLAN
The call comes two days after I brought Adriana and Matteo home, from Gio Santoro.
I'm in my office with the door closed. I've been awake for hours already.
Sleep has become impossible with Adriana just down the hall.
I've been going over security protocols and reviewing the reports my men have been sending me about potential threats, trying to focus on the practical realities of keeping my family safe.
That's what I need to be doing, instead of thinking about the way she looked at me last night in the hallway or the way her skin felt against mine for that brief, electric moment before I forced myself to walk away.
The look on her face when she saw me sweaty and shirtless was enough to make me come when I got back to my room.
I thought about what could have happened if I'd touched her, backed her against the wall, and kissed her like she wanted me to, while I stroked myself in the shower.
I thought about the way she'd taste, the way her hands would run all over the muscles I didn't have back then, learning my new body while I learn hers.
And when I thought about that almost hungry look she'd had in her eyes, I sprayed the tile with my cum like I hadn't had an orgasm in weeks instead of just that morning.
The phone vibrates against the desk, breaking through the pleasant memory, and I let it ring twice more before I answer. I take those extra seconds to push down the rage that's been simmering in my chest since the moment I found out she was being kept essentially captive in that mansion.
"Gallagher," I answer. My voice is flat and emotionless, giving nothing away.
"You have something that belongs to me." Gio's voice is smooth and cultured, with just a hint of his New York accent. He was born into power; he never had to fight for it the way I have. "I want her back."
I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking softly beneath me.
I let the silence stretch out between us for a moment so he can hear my absolute lack of concern for what he wants.
"Adriana isn't yours," I say finally, my tone making it clear that this conversation is already over.
There's no negotiation to be had here. "She never was.
She's my wife now, and she's staying with me. "
"Your wife." He laughs. The sound is ugly, full of disbelief and something that sounds like genuine amusement at my audacity. "You kidnapped my sister, forced her onto a plane, and now you're claiming she's your wife? That's not how marriage works, Gallagher. That's called human trafficking."
"I didn't force her to do anything." The lie comes easily.
After all, I've been telling myself the same thing for two days now, that I'm protecting her rather than just claiming her for myself.
"She married me willingly. We have a son together, in case you've forgotten.
Or did you think I wouldn't figure that out?
Did you think I wouldn't do the math and realize that the boy you've been keeping prisoner in that house is mine? "
There's a pause. I can hear him breathing on the other end of the line, and I can almost see the way his jaw is clenching, how his hands are probably curling into fists because he's not used to being challenged.
He's not used to anyone having the balls to stand up to him and tell him no.
"That bastard isn't yours," he says finally.
His voice has gone cold and dangerous now, the cultured veneer cracking to reveal the violence underneath.
"He's a Santoro. He was born in my house, raised under my roof, and he belongs to me just like Adriana does. You have no claim to either of them."
"I have every claim." I get to my feet and go to the window, looking out over the Chicago skyline that stretches out below me, a kingdom I've conquered through blood and brutality and sheer fucking will.
"Adriana was mine ten years ago, before your father caught us and everything went to shit.
She's always been mine, Gio, and you know it.
That's why you've kept her locked up all this time, isn't it?
Because you knew that if she ever got free, if she ever had a choice, she'd come back to me. "
"She had a choice." His voice is venomous, dripping with contempt and rage.
"She chose to stay. She chose her family over some Irish trash who thought he could fuck his way into our world.
You were nothing then, Gallagher, and you're nothing now, no matter how many men you've killed or how much territory you've claimed.
You're still just the son of a biker who worked for my father, and raped my sister, and you'll always be—"
"I didn't rape her." The words come out sharp enough to cut through his tirade.
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, the old rage and guilt and shame rising up in my throat like bile.
"Ten years ago, when your father caught us in the garden, I told him I forced her.
I told him I raped her, that she didn't want it, that it was all my fault.
But that was a lie, Gio. I lied to save her life because your father was going to kill us both.
I knew that if I took the blame, if I made it seem like she was the victim instead of a willing participant, he might let her live. "
The silence on the other end of the line is heavy with shock and disbelief.
I press my advantage, needing him to know that everything he thinks he knows about that night is wrong.
"She loved me," I continue, and my voice going slightly rough.
"We loved each other. What happened between us was consensual, and it was the only good thing in either of our lives at that point.
But I knew your father would never accept that.
He'd never let his precious daughter be with someone like me, and he said flat out that night that he was going to kill both of us.
So I lied. I told him I forced her. I let him torture me for it, and I would have let him kill me for it if Adriana hadn't freed me that night. "
"You're lying." But there's a crack in the absolute certainty he had before. I know that some part of him is remembering that night and questioning the story he's been told, wondering if maybe his father lied to him about what really happened.
"I'm not lying. I'll even let you ask Adriana if you don't believe me.
Ask her if I forced her, if I hurt her, if she didn't want what happened between us.
She'll tell you the truth." God, I hope that's true, that she's not so terrified of her brother that she'd cling to the lie I told all those years ago.
"It doesn't matter." He's recovered now, his voice hard again.
I can hear the decision in it, that he's made up his mind and nothing I say is going to change it.
"Willing or not, you had no right to touch her then, and you have no right to keep her now.
She's coming home, Gallagher. One way or another, she's coming home, and if you don't send her back willingly, I'll come and take her.
And I'll burn your entire organization to the ground in the process. "
"Then come." The words are out before I can think about the consequences or consider what I'm inviting down on myself and my men and everyone I've built here in Chicago.
But it doesn't matter. Nothing matters except keeping the promise I made to her ten years ago.
"Come and try to take her, Gio. Bring your entire family, bring every soldier you have, bring the full weight of the Santoro organization, and I'll still tell you no.
I'll still fight you for her, and I'll still win, because I have something you don't have.
I have a reason to fight that goes beyond pride.
I love her. I've always loved her. And I'm not letting her go back to that house and back to whatever hell you've been putting her through for the past ten years. Not even if it costs me my life."
"It will cost you your life." His voice is deadly, and I can hear the promise in it.
This isn't a threat but a future he's already decided on.
"And it'll cost you everything else too—your men, your territory, your reputation, everything you've built.
I'll take it all from you, Gallagher, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but ashes and regret.
And then I'll take Adriana home, and I'll make sure she understands exactly what her choices cost."
"She's not going back." I'm gripping the phone so hard my knuckles have gone white, and I force myself to loosen my hold and remember that losing my temper now won't help anyone.
"I'm saving her, Gio. Just like I tried to save her ten years ago.
And this time, I'm not letting anyone take her from me.
Not you, not your family, not God himself.
She's mine, and she's staying mine, and if you want to start a war over that, then we'll have a war. But you're not getting her back."
He's quiet for a long moment, and I can almost feel the rage radiating through the phone line. "Then it's war," he says simply. "I'll see you soon, Gallagher. And when I do, I'm going to make you regret every choice you've ever made."
The line goes dead. I stand there for a moment, the phone still pressed to my ear, and I can feel my heart racing, adrenaline flooding through my system.
I've just declared war on one of the most powerful mafia families in New York.
I've just painted a target on my back and the backs of everyone who works for me, and guaranteed that the next few weeks or months are going to be bloody, brutal, and potentially catastrophic.
And I don't regret it. Not even for a second.
Adriana is worth it. She's always been worth it, and I'd burn the entire world down before I'd let her brother take her back to that estate and that life, back to whatever nightmare she's been living for the past decade.