Chapter 11 #3
“The owners are here,” someone whispers from behind me as people make room for them to pass. They barely spare anyone a glance, heading into some unknown direction behind the bar, while everyone just stares.
However, my gaze connects with one of them for a brief second, and the air hitches in my throat while thousands of goose bumps pop all over my skin.
Because those blue eyes?
I’d recognize them anywhere, and no mask could hide them from me.
A long time ago, my kindergarten teacher had a favorite saying that was repeated to me so many times it might as well have been engraved in my brain.
Free cheese lies only in the mousetrap.
Levi brought me here tonight, and naive me thought he wanted to do the right thing when I should have known better.
Men like him?
They don’t forgive or forget, and the kind of resentment he harbors for Rush won’t just go away.
“Come here.” He fists my hair and drags me somewhere while my skin burns as all-consuming pain envelops me, and my head hurts so much.
“Look at your reflection.” I focus on the mirror in front of me, a gasp slipping past my lips at the sight, only for my anguished scream to fill the space when he presses the knife to my face, digging into my cheek until he draws blood.
“Your beauty attracts men. I shall destroy it so it only belongs to me.”
Yes, I know what it is like to be on the receiving end of a man’s rage.
The hunter brought me to his hunting ground.
And I have to play by his rules if I want to survive tonight.
Levi
Wyatt places his hand on the automatic key, and the door to our office, located behind the bar in the dark corner where no one has access but us, opens, and we enter one by one.
The meeting room has a round table, a small bar, and ten TV screens that show live footage of everything that happens inside the club. Even though our security team surveils all videos on their own, we prefer to have easy access as well.
Several laptops and tablets, along with a change of clothes.
“Auction starts in an hour, so why don’t you tell us why you’re here?
” Kane breaks the silence, going to the bar and snatching a whiskey bottle.
Shaking it in the air, everyone raises their hands.
“We prefer to make an impression and actually stay to watch people fret.” He grabs the tray holding five spotless glasses and puts them on the table.
“Not sure when I signed up to be everyone’s server, but please, gentlemen, by all fucking means, sit. ”
Von chuckles and opens the fridge, taking out the ice and dropping several cubes into each glass as we take our assigned seats, facing each other.
Kane pours generous amounts of whiskey before passing out the glasses to everyone.
“Are you going to answer my question?” He addresses the fifth guy, and he finally signs his reply.
He’s been nonverbal since birth, and while he can hear us, he never speaks.
According to various reports, doctors couldn’t fix his speech impairment because his vocal cords were damaged beyond repair as a child.
However, there were certain rumors floating around a few years back that he could speak. He just prefers not to.
Either way, that’s his business, and for him, we all learned sign language. Enough for us to understand him, at least.
“It’s the most important night for the club. As a silent partner who made all of this,” he swirls his finger in the air, “possible, you think I wouldn’t come and check on all of you?”
“We came up with the idea, concept, and all business decisions,” Von fires back, shaking his glass before taking a long sip. “Yet you make it sound as if this club exists because of you.”
A smile curves his mouth, while his eyes stay cold, and a warning ignites in them.
“You had a concept and limited resources because you wanted to keep it under wraps. You came to me asking for help and huge investments. I created the financial plan and executed it so well that no one could ever trace it to you all. Especially your fathers who seem to have you all in a choke hold since you are so afraid of them finding out about your little hobby on the side.”
“Our fathers are powerful men in their own right, and we respect them. We never said we fear them. We wanted to have something of our own.” Wyatt joins the conversation, and his harsh tone tells me he has little appreciation for our guest’s jab.
“And last time I checked, you have a huge percentage in this business, but not the majority of shares. So why the fuck are you sitting here and acting as if you own us?”
Yeah, Kings do not react well if someone tries to wield their power over them.
Too bad my best friend prefers to walk the law’s narrow line and never commits a true crime because it goes against his principles.
He might torture someone for days, but he won’t ever kill them, for death is not something we can decide on our own, according to him.
High morals and all, it’s admirable to an extent.
Among us all, he has the least amount of blood on his hands.
Our partner drinks his whiskey, holding Wyatt’s gaze before replying. “Yet you guard your secrets well from them. My point still stands. If I withdraw my support, this whole establishment will crumble. So yeah, to an extent, I own you all. You might not like it, King, but it’s a fact.”
“Careful, Braiden. You have absolute reign only in Chicago. New York is our ground. Don’t provoke us in our territory, or you might not like the consequences.” Our eyes meet as we face off one another because his words are largely aimed at me.
After all, my father is the underground king of New York, who has had issues with his father and uncles for years. And while they have the cold peace right now between them, since many of my uncles are friends with them, the resentment stays strong on both sides.
Whenever we ask what the fuck happened, no one says a thing.
Octavius and Isla Reed adopted Braiden when he was five or six, so he’s older than us. We never became friends during the rare meetings when all our families got together, but we acted civil toward one another.
The guy is a genius, and he tripled his two trust funds three years ago, so once we decided to open our club, we knew we needed him on board for it to be successful. When we approached him, though, he told us to fuck off, so I had to persuade the only person who could convince him to help us.
We used to go to the same art class during our summer vacations in France and bonded over our love for English literature, although most of the time she yapped about her dreamy prince who ignored her. Still, she planned to marry him someday.
Despite finding this whole thing redundant and pathetic, it spoke to my obsessive nature, so we kept in touch, even though her family was less than thrilled about it. I think her father assumed I had a crush on her, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Braiden did not appreciate the fact at all and told me to keep my friendship to myself and never fucking approach her again, per his warning.
It was hilarious to see him so riled up over the whole thing. I’ve seen Isabella Price ten times in my lifetime, but it got him on board, so I had to act like I was making such a great sacrifice in cutting contact with her.
Apparently, the Four Dark Horsemen and their heirs love going after the forbidden fruit because she was seventeen when he made that warning. That’s all I’m going to say about their fucked-up age-gap dynamic.
I’m not one to judge, all things considered.
“If stating facts is provoking you all, then so be it,” Braiden signs, then traces the rim of his glass with his finger. “Either way, I have no time to measure whose dick is bigger. I’m here to talk about business.”
Kane groans, finishing his drink and pouring himself another. “Please fucking do so we can go and enjoy our night. Compared to you all, I actually look forward to indulging in all the mayhem.”
“Income quadrupled this year, and we have people offering countless millions at this point to join the club. Whatever marketing you all do on the side, it’s working.
We’re on track to make a few billion this year.
” We have no reaction to that because most of us already have this amount in trust funds alone.
Even Kane, not that he knows about it. Uncle Eudard created one for him as well. They practically adopted the guy.
We are all so fucked up, we’d be a dream team to some shrink.
“Great. If that’s all—” Kane gets up, only to sit back down when Braiden shakes his head.
“What are we doing here?” We all furrow our brows at this.
“For a business to flourish, one must put energy, resources, and time into it, and none of you seem to grasp this fact. They are focused on their music and about to go on tour.” He points at Von and Kane, who clink their glasses at this.
“This one makes it his mission to bully an innocent girl while trying to locate his brother, and has family drama to last him a lifetime. What’s the end agenda in this anyway?
” Wyatt grits his teeth, and Braiden looks at me. “And you.”
He doesn’t sign anything else as tension rises between us, and at this moment, I realize he knows.
How the fuck does he know about my past?
“And he’s too busy chasing a girl.” Kane rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, Braiden. Our focus is on the club, and we’re all here tonight to do our jobs. Let us enjoy our lives. This club doesn’t define us.”
“It does when you have individual torture rooms where you all can watch each other kill and inflict pain on people.” He taps on the table before signing rapidly.
“You’re all reckless and hotheaded, and the only one among you all who could be trusted is Wyatt.
” He snaps his fingers. “The minute the feds or cops find out what’s really going on, though?
You’re all sentenced for life without the option of parole. ”
Oh, here come the lectures, and from him no less.