Chapter 45
Six weeks later
I grind my teeth, what’s left of my patience hanging by a thread. I have better things to do than wait on this red-headed motherfucker, but Zeus decided it was time for us to squash our beef once and for all.
So here I am, waiting to go toe-to-toe with Draco. No weapons. No dirty tricks. Just good old-fashioned fists.
Personally, I don’t have a problem with the fucker, except for the stick lodged so far up his ass it’d take the Jaws of Life to remove it.
The last month and a half have been a rollercoaster. Zahara and Zeppelin are healthy and whole, though they spent two weeks in the NICU just to be safe.
We buried Loretta, and with a little bribery, Zilphia was able to adopt her sister, Liliana.
With Spider gone, the Disciples slinked back to the shadows. Maybe they’ll attempt a comeback one day, maybe they won’t. Either way, we’ll be ready for the fuckers.
Harley pulled through and will be fully recovered in another week or two. I can’t say the same for Snake. He’s his own worst enemy right now and has a long road ahead of him.
“Think he chickened out?” Cricket asks to my left. We both sit astride our bikes, shoulder to shoulder with our brothers.
I grunt in response, too fucking pissed to speak. I just want to get back home to my family. That’s where I spend most of my time these days, much to Zilphia’s annoyance. She’d love nothing more than for me to go back to my sixty-hour weeks at the garage. Tough shit.
I’m not missing a moment. I’ve been peed on, puked on, and everything in between. I’ve given bottles, given baths, and made it to every doctor’s appointment. I’ve even pulled my share of night duty—those 3:00 a.m. feedings can be brutal. Who knew something so tiny could cry so loud?
Still, despite the sleep deprivation, I love every second of being a father.
Caring for three newborns isn’t for the weak, so we hired a nanny. Meela and Leah help when they can. Naomi too, whenever she’s not at the hospital.
“It’s Saturday night, man,” he complains. “I’m supposed to be at the bar balls deep in some pussy.”
I echo his sentiments. Yesterday I was so fucking hard I could’ve drilled through brick.
“Here he comes now,” Cricket says, nodding toward the approaching motorcycle. “Looks like he decided to grace us with his presence after all.”
I swing off my bike and shrug out of my cut, wanting this over and done with. The leather hits the seat with a dull thud. My shirt follows, landing beside it.
“Good luck,” Cricket says, winking at me.
“Luck is for pussies,” I quip, rolling my shoulders before striding into God’s Glory with steadfast confidence.
Soon after, Draco joins me, bare-chested and wearing a scowl that says he’s just as ready to throw down as I am. This fight’s been a long time coming.
“I’m owed an apology,” I drawl, closing the small distance separating us. “You kept me waiting.”
He smirks. “You were an entitled little shit from the moment I met you.”
Zeus ambles over to us. “The fight only stops when the beef between you two is settled.”
The moment Zeus turns to walk away, Draco blindsides me with a jab to the temple, then slams me with a savage right hook. My head snaps sideways, stars bursting behind my eyelids. Motherfucker caught me lacking.
Our bloodthirsty brothers roar with excitement, always eager to watch a fight.
“You need some discipline beaten into you, boy,” he growls.
I dip low, dodging his next swing by a hairsbreadth, then bury my fist into his gut with everything I’ve got. He doubles over with a ragged whoosh, all the air ripping from his lungs.
“And you think you’re man enough for the job?” I snarl, driving my knee into his nose with bone-crushing force. He hits the ground hard, blood pouring from his nostrils like a busted faucet. “Okay, give it your best shot.”
I raise a booted foot, aiming to shatter every bone in his face, but he rolls away at the last second, and my foot slams into the dirt. Before I can make my next move, Draco seizes my ankle and yanks my leg out from under me, sending me crashing to the earth beside him.
His elbow smashes into my mouth, splitting skin on impact. Blood spills onto my tongue, harsh and bitter.
We lurch to our feet and circle each other, waiting for the smallest opening to strike. He got hands, I give him that, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from the son of Zeus.
“You’re a hothead and one day it’s going to get you fucking killed,” he spits, his voice sharp with unrestrained anger.
“Didn’t know you gave a damn,” I retort sarcastically.
“You’re my brother,” Draco snaps, frustration cutting through every word. “Of course I give a damn. I don’t want my nieces and nephew growing up without their father.” He stills and pierces me with his intense gaze. “I don’t know what happened to you as a kid, but you need to get the hell over it.”
“Easy for you to say!” I thunder. “You didn’t get the shit beat out of you nearly every fucking day!” I hammer him with three punishing body shots, smirking in satisfaction at hearing the pained grunts spilling from his lips.
We trade blow after blow until we’re both left sprawled in the dirt—bloody, breathless, and drenched in sweat.
“I’m sorry your childhood was fucked,” Draco says between heaving breaths. “But that’s not going to stop me from riding your ass every time I catch you doing some reckless shit.”
“Like you said, I’m a father now,” I shoot back, just as winded as he is. “I’ve got no intention of being reckless, you fucking carrot.”
Zeus appears above us. “Is this done?”
“Yeah,” we grunt at the same time, ending our feud for good.
Mayhem barrels into me the moment I walk through the front door, a whirlwind of fur and uncontained energy.
“Hey, buddy.” I crouch down to his level and gently scratch behind his ears. “How’s our girl doing? You taking good care of her?” He lets out a happy bark. “That’s my good boy.”
I glance into the living room to check on Harley and find her passed out on her bed before making my way upstairs.
Zilphia will be in the nursery. She’s been sleeping there for the past six weeks, but that changes tonight whether she likes it or not. I’ve tolerated her silent treatment and cold stares long enough.
I head into the bathroom, snag the first aid kit from under the sink, and face the wreckage in the mirror. Draco really did a number on me. One eye’s almost swollen shut. Blood’s crusted under my nose. My top lip is split open. My cheek is a mess of red and purple. And that’s just above the neck.
No doubt I’m covered in bruises from head to toe.
I patch up my battered face as best I can, then step beneath the steaming spray of the shower. The near scalding water cascades over me, a searing balm to my bruised and aching body.
Once I’m dry and wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, I step into the nursery and freeze at the doorway, drawn in by the quiet intimacy before me.
Zilphia is fast asleep in the rocking chair, her robe hanging open, revealing one plump breast. A pearly thread of milk glistens as it escapes her soft brown nipple.
Zahara is nestled in her arms, sleeping peacefully, her tiny body rising and falling with each subtle breath.
I step deeper into the room and sink to a crouch in front of them. My eyes hungrily drink in the woman who brought our twins into the world.
Thick, wild curls barely tamed by a hair tie.
Long lashes rest like shadows against her smooth, caramel-brown skin.
Her full, heart-shaped lips parted ever so slightly, soft and irresistible.
Shapely, pliable legs give way to dainty feet, each toe perfectly proportioned, her copper-colored nails meticulously trimmed.
I trail a finger over one, barely grazing the surface.
This woman possesses every inch of me. Always has and always will.
I carefully lift Zahara from her arms, and Zilphia’s eyes snap open.
“What are you doing?” she murmurs, groggy but alert.
“She’s asleep,” I whisper, easing Zahara into her crib with a tenderness I never believed a man like me was capable of.
I steal a glance at Liliana and Zeppelin, both slumbering in their own cribs. Liliana may not share my blood, but she’s my daughter all the same.
I turn to face Zilphia, who regards me with the same icy disdain I’ve grown used to over the past few weeks.
“I’m sure that beating was well deserved.”
I ignore the jab. There are more pressing matters at hand. “It’s been six weeks.”
Her eyebrows knit in confusion, but the moment comprehension dawns, fury swiftly takes its place. “Go fuck one of your club groupies.”
I stalk toward her, and she scrambles out of the rocking chair, backpedaling until her back hits the wall. “I don’t want them. I want you.”
She yanks the robe closed, catching my gaze lingering on her cleavage. “I don’t give a damn what you want because you’ve made it crystal clear you don’t give a shit about what I want.”
“Spider had to die,” I growl, stepping into the last inch of space separating us. “There was no other option.”
“I wanted a chance to get to know him and any other family I might have,” she snaps, shoving at my chest. “You took that away from me.”
“We’re your family.” I glance toward the cribs, then settle my gaze back on her. “The Gods are your family.”
“I may be forced to stay here, but you will never touch me again.”
“Don’t fight me, Zilphia,” I snarl, fisting the velvet belt of her robe. “I’m going to have you, willingly or by force.”
Her fingers wrap around my wrist, her voice soft but resolute. “No.”
“You belong to me.” My hand encircles her throat, firm and possessive, but without pressure. “Forever and always. You don’t get to tell me no.”
“And when we die?” she asks defiantly. “You can’t follow me in death. We both know you’re going to Hell.”