Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
CHASSIS
When church is over, the door to the conference room opens. I turn my head to look over my shoulder and watch the men begin to pour out. They don’t seem excited. They don’t look at peace or even happy. What they appear to be is resigned, and not in a good way.
I don’t have a good feeling about this. My stomach twists and cramps because I know that this cannot be a good thing. This is, without a doubt, bad. The vibes in the clubhouse are heavy and off, daunting even.
I bite my bottom lip, working it back and forth as I try to think of something to say. Though I don’t know who the hell I would say it to. My father doesn’t even look at me as he breezes right past. My brother heads straight for the food.
Then I see him.
Amos is the last one who walks out of the room. His eyes find mine, and he smirks, but I don’t feel at ease even a little bit. My brother steps into my line of sight and grins as he looks down at me, knowing damn well what he’s doing as he lifts the cookie in his hand to his lips and takes a bite.
“You’re still causing a lot of trouble, I see,” Piston announces.
Rolling my eyes to the ceiling, I can’t help but smile. He makes me laugh because out of the four of us, I cause the least amount of trouble—except this pregnancy thing. It seems that when I do cause trouble, I do it in a very big and permanent way.
Piston’s ten years older than me and has always been more like a second father rather than a brother. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but it’s what we are. He’s always had an eye on me, and his thumb, careful to put me in my place if he thinks I’m fucking up.
“I’m not causing any trouble at all,” I state as I turn around to face him fully.
He arches a brow, his gaze focused on mine and searching it for a silent moment. He tilts his head to the side, waiting for me to challenge him a bit more. I don’t. I watch him for a moment and exhale a long sigh before I continue. He’s obviously waiting for me to say something else.
His eyes dance as he takes me in, and I realize in this moment how much I missed him.
“It’s not me,” I mutter, attempting to be insistent but failing.
He chuckles. “Yeah, it is, but you don’t even know it. Which is goddamn wild to me. That man is seriously pussy drunk on you, Chass. Seems you have that effect on men, considering this is the second one in not that long.”
“You’re my brother. That’s gross,” I point out.
He studies me in silence before he clears his throat and lifts his hand, his palm cupping my cheek.
For a moment, I forget where I am. I feel like I’m fifteen years old and back home.
Like I’m late for curfew, or like I’ve been caught partying, and he’s about to admonish me—but only in the way he can, which will make me feel like shit but also completely loved.
“I have a feeling wars are going to start over this face, or maybe over the baby you’re carrying. Promise me you’re going to be safe. Don’t do anything foolish, reckless, or dumb as fuck.”
I don’t know if he’s being nice or if he’s just giving me a warning, but I decide it’s him being nice. My brother may say I’m a pain in the ass. He may talk some shit about me, but he’s always got my back, and he’s always going to be there for me if shit hits the fan.
“Everything good?” Amos asks as he approaches my side, no doubt getting the big-brother, stern-talking-to vibes that Piston is putting off.
Piston clears his throat as his hand falls from my face.
I watch his face as he breaks physical contact with me, then shifts his attention to Amos.
I’m not sure if Amos is at my side to assert dominance or if he’s actually concerned my brother is going to say some stupid shit, but either way, I can’t deny that I’m glad he’s here.
“Everything’s good,” Piston murmurs. “Just reminding Chassis to stay aware of her surroundings when she’s out and about. Can’t be too safe until we know what the fuck is going on.”
He’s right on that front. I can’t even begin to guess at what the future holds when it comes to Samuil. I don’t know what he’s capable of or the lengths to which he’s willing to go to get what he wants. And in that same thought, I have no idea what he would even want.
I have a feeling if he wants anything at all, it’s something that would only benefit him, under the guise of benefiting his Bratva.
He would use me, use this baby, and then discard us like trash.
That is never going to happen. He will not get the opportunity to do that.
Not to me and especially not to this child.
“I’ll lock her ass up here in my room if I need to. She will always be protected.”
I press my lips together and roll them a few times.
I know he means the words he’s saying, but I also know that Samuil operates on a different moral scale.
His code isn’t the same as the Iron Flames’.
I don’t know about the rest of the men in his organization, in the Perov Bratva, but Samuil is a piece of shit.
“Good to hear. You ever need some extra muscle, just call. The boys and I will be here.”
And Piston means that. He and my brothers would do anything for me. And that means anything.