CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MATHIAS
The car remains silent as I navigate the streets of Boston on our way home after the shitshow at the coffee shop.
I fucked up today.
As the leader, it’s my job to ensure everyone’s safety. I’m the ‘paranoid’ one. I consider potential threats and prepare for them.
So why wasn’t there a contingent of Blackthorn soldiers surrounding the coffee shop? Why did I let that shooter get close enough to kill us?
It’s unacceptable.
And I’m to blame.
If Allie had been hurt— again —because of me…
My fingers flex on the steering wheel.
I’m so damn tired of bullets and guns and assholes trying to kill me or my family. That’s why my brothers and I are so determined to wipe The Syndicate off the face of the earth. Its disappearance won’t eradicate every threat to our lives, but it will eliminate at least eighty percent of them.
Leaving a twenty percent that should be far easier to defend against.
Allie’s phone vibrates for the fifth time in a row since she quietly buckled into the passenger seat. I keep stealing glances at her, worried today’s events might send her into another anxiety attack, but she seems outwardly fine. Just contemplative.
Except for the sigh that follows a hastily typed message.
“Who’s texting so much?” I ask.
Allie bites her lip in answer, physically holding back a reply. As if I’ll let her hide anything from me. Every facet of Allie’s life is important to me, because if I’m left in the dark on something, then I can’t care for her properly.
“Allison…”
“It’s Bailey, okay?”
“She's still bothering you after my warning?” The bitch must have a death wish. I made myself perfectly fucking clear. Leave Allison alone. “Give me your phone.”
“What? Why? I'm handling this.” She stretches to keep the device out of reach as if my arm span isn't longer than hers. We may be driving on a busy road, but I’m an excellent multitasker, and I always get what I want.
“If you were handling Bailey, then her number would already be blocked.”
“I did at first. But then I got so anxious about something bad happening to her and not being able to reach me. It felt worse than dealing with her messages, so I unblocked her.”
“Give me your phone, Allie.” My hand rests on her warm thigh, palm up. She’s got ten seconds to hand it over before I pull onto a side street and take it forcefully.
“You blocking her isn't going to make a difference.” Her body becomes a rigid line of angles as she twists away from me.
“That's not what I'm doing. We're going phone shopping, so you won't need that dinosaur anymore.”
“Wait, what?” Surprise has her muscles loosening a fraction.
“You're getting a new number, so Bailey can't contact you anymore. Besides, how old is that thing?” I gesture to the phone clenched in her hand.
“Three years old.”
“Damn, baby, that's fucking ancient in technology.”
She shakes her head defensively. “If it still works, then there's no reason to replace it for a higher definition camera or whatever.”
“Oh, we're replacing it, but if it makes you feel better, we'll ask them to add your old phone to whatever recycling program they have. Now, I’m running out of patience. Are you going to give me your phone, or do you want to test me further?”
A strained minute passes before she reluctantly drops the phone in my hand.
“Thank you,” I murmur, tucking the device into my coat pocket then capturing her free hand with mine.
It’s a short drive to the store, and an associate welcomes us the moment we step foot inside.
I present Allie’s antiquated phone to the man and explain the situation. “Transfer everything over except for the contacts.”
By her own admission, Allison doesn’t have a good support system, which means the only numbers she needs to keep are mine and my brothers in case of an emergency. Everyone else can fuck off.
They weren’t there for my girl when she needed them, so they’re out of her life.
No excuses.
I expect a fight about the contacts thing, but Allie remains silent. Whether it’s because she doesn’t want to cause a scene or not, I accept her hushed acquiescence. It makes this easier.
“Do you know what kind of phone you want to upgrade to?” Zayden the associate asks.
“Same as this one.” I show him my device. When we get back to the manor, Rafe can add our special security apps to Allison’s.
The man nods before setting the old phone on the counter and retreating to the back of the store for a new one. While he’s gone, a text lights up the screen, and automatically, I go to answer it.
Bailey is done fucking with Allie.
But when I open the message, it’s not from a disgruntled roommate, it’s from Allie’s brother, Josh.
There’s a slew of texts from him.
First asking for help to pay his phone bill, then trying to guilt trip her when she refused. They coincide with another message that pops up leading to a conversation with their parents as her mom and dad pile on more guilt in an effort to make her help the family.
And I had no fucking idea this was going on.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this bullshit with your family?” Accusation vibrates throughout my body, along with derision for myself.
For a man who got his secret desire fulfilled with Allie, I’m doing a shit job at earning the privilege of calling her mine. She’s still trying to deal with these stressors alone when I want her to give them to me.
I need to figure out a new game plan for gaining her trust.
Sure, she capitulated easily enough at her apartment, but since then, she’s reverted back to being self-sufficient Allison Fields, and I’ve let her, to an extent, because I want her comfortable with me and the changes in her life. Especially after catching her that first night in the bathroom with a blade to her wrist.
Clearly, that was the wrong decision.
My girl needs a stronger hand.
Allie flushes bright red. “Because it doesn’t concern you.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
Zayden returns before I can say much more, but my mind swirls with next steps.
Allison’s grace period is over. She doesn’t understand what it means for me to take care of her. She’s still trying to do it herself as if nothing has changed except her location.
When we get back to Blackchapel Manor, she’ll learn the truth.
Except my plans are derailed by Luca as soon as we enter the manor foyer.
“Hey, do you have a second?” he asks, shooting Allie a small smile in greeting before gesturing toward the shared study.
I debate stalling him, but that would only be a temporary delay before he interrupts us again.
“Sure. I’ll find you later, cherie .” I watch her head upstairs, enjoying the view of her ass bouncing with each step, then follow Luca to the study. “What’s up?”
“I’m wondering if we’re still working on our original timeline for screwing over Petit.”
“Of course we are. Nothing’s changed.”
“Except something has, and her name is Allison,” Luca says pointedly. “Look, it was a surprise when you installed her in the manor, but we supported you, and we still do, even if we don’t quite understand your plan. But you can’t deny that you’ve been distracted. The deal on Petit Enterprises closed a while ago, yet you haven’t mentioned going ahead with our next move, which is unlike you.”
My brows furrow as frustration wells in my chest. I don’t like being taken to task. No one berates my behavior and gets away with it. Not even my brothers.
“What do you call working with you and Jonah every damn day combing through Petit’s records? We haven’t compiled enough evidence to make a concrete case against him. That’s not distraction or shortsightedness. It’s called being fucking prepared.”
Luca shakes his head. “Before Allison arrived, you wouldn’t have stopped researching for anything . I’ve lost count of how many late nights we’ve shared because you wouldn’t let any of us rest until we found whatever we were looking for. Now, we’re heeding a routine schedule like nine to five grunts? Tell me that’s not like you,” he pushes.
“I’m going to say this once, then you’re going to drop the subject, and you can let the rest of the guys know not to bring it up either. I haven’t gone soft or stupid. Louis Petit will be dealt with soon; his assets drained so The Syndicate takes a massive hit. He’s my father, and I want my revenge against him more than anyone in this damn house. Don’t fucking forget it.”
My fist pounds on the top of a leather armchair with a thump. Storming out of the room, I stomp up the stairs. Pissed doesn’t begin to describe the war raging inside my veins.
Luca’s wrong.
I’m in control of my feelings.
I’m hyper-focused on ruining Petit.
Allison hasn’t changed those facts, because I refuse to let her.
I am in fucking control.