8. Chapter 8
Chapter 8
Hazen
T he table’s set and all eyes are on us.
Our brothers take up each seat.
We only invited the councilors to this meeting.
Although major changes have to be run past the board for approval, we have the authority to overrule them.
But it’ll be easier to rule with their support, especially when our first act of business is to push such a massive change.
Gage pulls out the chair next to me and sits down.
One of the waiters comes over and pours him a glass of bourbon.
We’ve booked out one of my favorite Italian restaurants to avoid anything getting outside of these walls.
“Have you heard from Lucas?” Gage asks, checking his phone, and I shake my head.
“If he doesn’t pull his shit together soon, we’re going to come to blows.”
“He’ll be here,” I say, bringing the crystal glass to my lips.
He knows how important this is for us.
Even though he’s been a complete train wreck, he won’t fuck this up.
We’re all he’s got.
Chatter fills the room, and I check my watch—ten past seven.
Better get this show on the road, with or without Lucas.
“Can you call him?” I ask Gage, just as the door to the restaurant opens and Lucas stumbles in with a lopsided grin.
The top three buttons of his white collared shirt are undone, and his hair looks like he’s run his fingers through it one—or ten—too many times.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says, before dropping into the seat on the other side of me.
He clicks his fingers to the waitress and orders a drink.
“Where the fuck have you been, and why do you look and smell like a garbage truck?” I say, gripping my glass tightly.
Lucas huffs.
“I’m here, aren’t I? Isn’t that enough?”
I don’t bother replying, because he’s right, at least he’s here.
That’s all that matters right now.
Freya isn’t here yet, but I gave her a later starting time, so we could get settled in first.
I gaze at the door, waiting for her to come in.
Rules state that no one outside of The Brotherhood is allowed to attend our meetings, especially women, but Freya is more than that to me and my brothers.
She’s one of us, whether she believes it or not, and family sticks together.
This is her idea, and I want her to see it through.
We have to start, or we’ll be here all night.
Eight of The Brotherhood’s most trusted men, our councilmen, fill the seats.
As Zeke, Callan, and Brax talk among themselves, Brax catches my gaze.
I nod, and he raises his glass my way.
“Have you heard from Dominic?” Brax asks, from a couple of seats down.
“Not yet, but we are keeping tabs on his movements. He’s been out for a couple of days.”
The charges against him for murdering Alec didn’t stick.
As soon as the police let him go free, Dominic went underground.
No one’s heard from him since.
I’ve tried calling, but his phone is switched off—untraceable.
There’s a rumor he’s been seen in town a few times, but nothing concrete.
Maybe Dad has finally left us.
That shouldn’t make me feel a little funny—abandoned, even—but it does.
Zeke looks around the table before bringing his gaze back to me.
“If you want more, I’d ask the dock workers. They always have the intel.”
Lucas scoffs but doesn’t otherwise comment.
He’s always been the one to do the wheeling and dealing down at the docks.
Still, it’s not for him to question our councilmen when they’re trying to help, so I kick his ankle under the table.
He shoots me a filthy look but doesn’t respond.
I grab my glass, turning back to the table.
The deep honey and oak of the bourbon runs smoothly down my throat.
Bringing my fingers to my lips, I whistle, and all eyes cut to us three sitting at the head of the long table.
“You were called here to discuss some changes for Daringhood,” I say, and Ronald, one of my father’s closest friends, sneers.
“This’ll be good. ’Bout time we did another rate rise.”
A few yeses fill the room, but I ignore them as the door to the restaurant opens and Freya walks in.
My gaze moves up her shapely legs to her skintight leather skirt, up her turtleneck that fails to hide her curves, and then comes to rest on her bright-blue eyes.
Fucking hell.
All eyes are on her, but she doesn’t miss a step.
No, she walks with confidence, heads straight to us, and sits down in a chair next to Lucas.
He doesn’t even acknowledge her, tightening his grip on his glass and staring ahead.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Ronald pipes up again, staring daggers at her.
“She’s one of us,” Gage says, and an uproar fills the table.
“No one outside of The Brotherhood is allowed in our meetings. That rule’s been around for centuries,” Samson says, pushing back a lock of black hair that’s fallen over his face, while watching Freya with interest and curiosity.
“This is her idea, and she’s here to see it through,” I say.
Ronald huffs and rolls up his shirtsleeves, exposing skin pocked with age but still toned with muscle.
He mutters, loud enough for her to hear, “Gutter whore.”
Freya ignores him, twisting her fingers together on the table.
Lucas pushes his chair back with force, and it falls to the ground with a bang.
He grabs a glass and throws it across the table, aiming straight for Ronald.
Ronald ducks, and it hits the wall, shattering into many pieces.
All eyes are on Lucas, and I don’t move.
“What the fuck?” Ronald roars, standing, and Lucas laughs.
“Learn your place, Ronald, or next time, it’ll be a bullet into your black heart.” Lucas stares down at Freya for a moment before storming off toward the bar.
Fucking hell, he’s getting out of control.
This needs to stop before he fucks everything up.
Ronald shakes his head.
“You little—”
“Enough!” I yell, and Ronald falls back into his seat without another word.
I’ve always hated him, especially the way he used to follow my father around, clinging to his every word.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been sucking his cock behind closed doors.
“As I was saying, we are going to propose some changes in Daringhood and invest in them from a housing and education perspective, so they realize we’re ready to form an alliance.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table.
“Why the fuck would we do that?” Ronald snaps.
I open my mouth, but Freya beats me to it.
“To avoid the war that’s brewing.”
“Pfft. Only way to resolve that is to enforce more power and remind them who’s in charge and has been for centuries,” Samson says, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“We could, but that’s only going to create more divide and bloodshed that we simply don’t have enough manpower for right now,” Gage says, taking a sip from his glass.
“It’s a distraction from our business transactions with other towns. If we put all our efforts into a war, then we reduce our own supply chain and money. We’ll end up running ourselves dry.”
“A few quick beatdowns and some rate rises. That’ll shut ’em up,” Brax says, running his hand with the lion tattoo over his jawline.
“What are you suggesting, then?” Samson asks, ignoring Brax.
Samson’s always been about logistics and rules.
“We cut down the tax payments they make to us, reduce their costs, and put some money back into the community. Clean up their side of town, provide them with more opportunities. That should be enough to discourage their violence,” Gage says.
“And what about the money we’re losing from this little exercise? Where will that be made up?” Zeke asks.
Gage rests his elbows on the table.
“We’ll tighten up costs with our shipping and supply team.”
“So, you’re saying we should treat the people who help us live like this like shit, reducing what we pay, and we should give money to the scum across the tracks?” Zeke slams his hand on the table.
“I’ll tell you who’s spending money in my strip clubs. It’s the dock workers, not the fucking hood rats.”
Ronald is out of his chair in seconds, his hands flying around.
“This is an outrage! When’s Dominic back? He wouldn’t stand for this!”
“Watch your mouth, Ronald. We are in charge now, and it’s time for a change,” I growl.
Ronald stares us down.
“You are weak, the lot of ya, and just children yourselves.”
Lucas moves, finishing his drink before dropping it to the ground.
Another glass smashes to pieces.
Retrieving his knife, he twists it against his index finger as he heads for Ronald, pulling him into a choke hold.
As Lucas presses the knife against Ronald’s throat, Freya gasps and Gage shakes his head.
“Tell me I’m weak one more time, and you are done,” Lucas hisses into Ronald’s ear.
Sweat runs down the man’s forehead, and his throat bobs against the metal.
I should tell Lucas to sit the fuck down, but I’m enjoying the show far too much.
Ronald needs to learn his place, and calling us weak isn’t going to do him any favors.
“You’re crazy,” Ronald grumbles.
Lucas laughs.
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Now, apologize.”
The room is deadly silent, everyone watching the interaction.
Brax covers his smirk with his glass.
“Sorry,” Ronald huffs, and Lucas grins before letting him go.
He presses a kiss against his cheek.
“See? Wasn’t that hard, sweetie.”
Ronald swats him away with an angry scowl, and Lucas doesn’t wipe the smile off his face.
He skips around the table, grabbing a bottle of red wine from a passing waiter and bringing it to his lips.
“The rate reduction will take place next week. After that, I expect they’ll drop all talk of war, and we can get back to business.” I look around the table.
Some men have scowls twisting their lips, while others appear mildly bored.
“Any objections?”
Ronald stares at his cutlery.
Samson opens his mouth, as if he’s about to speak, but a sharp look from Lucas seems to have him thinking better of it.
“Now that’s settled, let’s enjoy the night with a little more peace. Shall we?” I raise my glass, and everyone around the table, even Ronald, follows suit.
“To new beginnings.”
As the food is served, Lucas finds his seat again but ignores Freya, who tries to talk to him.
I don’t know what’s going to happen between them, but I hope to fuck that they sort it out—and soon.
It doesn’t feel right, this tension between them.
We aren’t whole without Lucas.
What happened is ten ways of fucked up, and he needs time to come to terms with both his parents dying.
I just hope he doesn’t kill himself in the process.
The rest of the night, we drink and eat before everyone leaves.
Gage takes care of the bill while Lucas flirts with one of the waitresses.
She grabs his arm, leaning in closely and laughing at something he says.
Freya is glaring at them with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Jealous?” I ask with a grin.
She grunts.
“I’m about a second from walking over there and punching Lucas in the face. You gonna stop me?”
I laugh.
“That’s something I’d love to see.”
Freya goes to move, but the door to the restaurant opens, and she freezes, her irritation turning to rage.
I follow her gaze, my heart pounding heavily against my chest.
What the fuck?
My jaw drops.
“Dad?”