Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
SAVVY
?
I knew the moment my eyes met my father”s that a decision had been made. I knew after he’d walked into Gunner’s office and informed him that Princess had been taken. I knew the moment he pulled away from me after seeing the video and again in the room they held church. As much as I hate it, as much as I want to be the one to make this right, the one to fix this. I can’t be.
My heart beats wildly as I listen to my daughter rant at my side. My fingers itch with the need to pull my phone out and do what I do–find the bitch and take her out myself. Which is something I haven’t been able to do since Julia crawled out of the hole she had been hiding in. I can admit to my arrogance in believing I could handle her myself and rid myself, my daughter Sin, and the world of her on my own. Julia has proven to be a slippery bitch. Gunner isn’t wrong in saying her elusiveness is because she knows how the organization works, how I work. Fuck, hearing him say that was a punch to the fucking gut, but he isn’t wrong. I employed the same tactics I’ve used a million times to locate her. And her being a part of the organization for years predicted that. I hate knowing that I’ve become that predictable. I hate knowing this bitch has gotten the better of me, especially knowing my capabilities.
Releasing a frustrated breath, I accept my father is here and helping. He will provide Gunner and the club with everything they will need and more. I know I trust in it. It still pisses me off being dismissed, but I understand it. Tuning back into my daughter’s ranting.
“We are far more prepared to handle this than the club. They have to know that shit?” Bellamy fumes as we slowly make our way to the main room. “What the fuck is dedushka thinking? I love Pop and the club. And Taz can fuck up the worst of them, but this? This is shit I’ve trained my whole life to deal with. She will not do things as a normal person would. She is going to use others to her advantage. She is out for blood and if… if…”
I stop hearing the emotion in her voice. Her body is tight and I know where her mind is going. She is worried about Taz. Stopping at the mouth of the hallway before allowing either of us to continue. It’s late or early, so there isn’t a lot of activity as I look around before speaking.
“My daughter, who I love dearly,” I say, placing my hands on her cheeks and looking into her eyes. “I know you worry and don’t understand the choices your father and ded have made by not including us. But I do, Bell. Your father needs to do this, and you have prepared Taz as best you could. And remember, they have your dedushka and the full might of the Bratva and organization at their backs. Neither your father nor Taz are alone.” I say with a soft, reassuring smile.
She nods a few times. I don’t know if it’s helping her absorb my words or convince herself that what I have said makes sense.
“Bellamy, you understand she came for him? They took his daughter, your sister. Julia attacked the club in the worst way. This time as a president, a man, and a father, he has to show not just Julia but the world that he’s not to be fucked with.” Realizing as much as I thought I was doing the right thing with the situation with Beverly, it had consequences. “We saved the day the last time. We handled things. We did, not him, not the club, me, you, and your team. Our involvement, although appreciated, had ramifications you’re not aware of and that your father has tried to hide from all of us. This isn’t just about Julia.” I say. The realization slams into me hard. Removing my hands from my daughter’s beautiful face. My eyes soften. “I get that now. As much as I fucking hate it. I get it. He needs to prove not only to himself but to everyone that he’s not a motherfucker to be trifled with. That he can go against anyone and win.” I say, my heart rate slowing at the understanding of where Gunner’s head is at.
“I get all that, mother,” her irritation with the situation showing and the disrespect has me narrow my eyes on her. She releases a breath and shakes her head, knowing she is treading a dangerous line. “But why can’t he be the big bad misogynistic biker president with our help?”
With a small chuckle, because only my child.
“Girl, it is what it is. Your grandfather has his back. That will have to be enough, Bellamy.” I say, giving her a pointed look and walking away.
My head snaps up when I hear booted feet enter the common room. Bellamy and I have been restless, and it’s taken all the energy I’ve had not to molly wop my daughter to keep her from charging into church, demanding to be included. Focusing on keeping her chill and working on other things like making breakfast for the men and keeping the coffee flowing has helped me from wanting to do the same.
Thankfully, my grandbabies needed her attention because it has given me a reprieve from watching her crawl up the walls. Looking up at the clock, it’s a little after six am. The guys all look exhausted as many of them make their way to the coffeemaker. A few of them grab plates and pile them with food. And they all come over and either kiss me on the cheek, squeeze my shoulder, or ply me with encouraging words. My eyes never leave the hall waiting for him. But he never comes, and neither do our boys, nephews, father, or Taz.
My head goes into my hands as I rest my elbows on the bar top. I fucking hate this.
A hand comes to my shoulder and squeezes it, my senses alight. Not because it’s who I want it to be, but because it’s who I didn’t know I needed.
I look up and over my shoulder and my eyes connect with the hazel ones that are so much like my own. Ones that I’ve turned to when my life was getting out of control and overwhelming. Ones that have seen me at my best and my worst. Ones filled with more love than I can ever know what to do with.
With a chin lift signaling he wants to talk privately. I stand from my stool and wordlessly follow him out of the main entrance of the club.
Silently we walk the compound grounds, taking in the morning light. My anxiety of not knowing what is going on claws at my throat.
“Let him do this, sestra.” He says without looking down at me.
“I know.” My voice is barely above a whisper.
“He will be well informed. Otets will not allow him to do this on his own. You know how otets is, he always has eyes and ears on everything and everyone. He knew you would find your way back to Gunner. He knew that one day you would need to stop. That you needed to open yourself up to the girl you were and let her back in.” He says, and I suck in a breath.
My father has been hinting at me retiring from fieldwork and the organization as a whole. He knows how much my work and what happened to me changed me, not just on a physical level, but also an emotional one. My experiences forged me into what I am now. I know that. I’m not the soft girl who believes in happy endings or that the world is filled with glitter and rainbows. Gone is the girl who thinks that if you live with love and light in your heart, everything will work out. I’ve seen what love can do to you. I’ve seen what living in the light can do. I’ve seen that being na?ve in thinking everything will simply work out because you will it to. My work, my life, and my experiences taught me better.
I let out a breath, thinking about a conversation I had with my father a few years ago. He said as much. He told me he regretted involving me in the Bratva and the organization because his printsessa had become too hard, cynical, and cold. He did not like that I refused to form relationships outside the organization and sem”ya. He wanted me to heal, but didn’t like the way I did it. And I don’t fault him for feeling the way he did or rather does. So my brother’s words are not surprising to me.
“Semian, I don’t know if I will ever be her again,” I say, releasing a breath.
“I know sestra.” He chuckles. “I know you better than anyone. You are a stubborn zhenshchina. Anyway, I didn’t pull your hard-headed mean ass out here to talk about that.” He looks away from me.
“I wanted you to know what otets has been reluctant to fill you in on. You need to keep your head right. Or I won’t share what I know.” I nod at his words.
Whatever my brother has to share with me, I know it is going to piss me off. One thing I know about Semian is that if tells you to keep your shit together, you better, because he will keep to his word and not tell me if I fly off the handle. So I shove my hands into the pockets of the sweater I stole from Gunner. I take a breath, inhaling the strong masculine scent of the man that is my beginning and end as I turn to my brother, nodding at him to tell me what he knows.
“Otets…” he releases a breath, looking away from me. “He has always had an eye on Julia. He knew there was more to her story than her betraying us, her team, and Jax. It wasn’t just that one situation where she sold us out. She has been working towards something. It didn’t take us long to figure out what that something was. At some point in their recent history, her coven has lost power. And in knowing that, they have been making moves with many others. They have formed alliances in a quest to gain more power and more sources for that power. We received word they had a hand in kidnapping the werewolf heir, who has still not been recovered. They have strategically been attacking higher-ranking others, either killing or taking their daughters. It’s been kept under the radar. The faction and organization know that if word gets out, it will lead to a war that will no doubt bleed into the human world.” He pauses, allowing me to process his words.
So many questions, but I stay silent because that isn’t all of it. I know my brother. He is holding something back.
‘Tell me,” I say, my teeth grinding with anger at not being told this before.
“She only has a few pieces of the puzzle she’s missing, so that she and her coven can do the ritual to gain the power she has been working so hard to gain. That is why we are here.” He says, turning to me fully.
I don’t want to say the words because he didn’t say a piece. He said pieces, which is more than one. There is more than one thing here that she needs.
“Or you can take her place.”
Those words play over and over in my head. Jessa said them to Bellamy the night she showed up. The night I snapped that bitch”s neck. She was goading her, she and everyone knows any challenge to me is a challenge to my daughter. Bellamy is safe. She is here, behind our walls. She’s safe. I say over and over in my head.
“Sin?” I say.
The realization that my other daughter is still on assignment and does not know what is going on here. Or that her biological mother has less than good intentions for her. I take a step to walk away, knowing I need to warn her and get her home, but Semian grabs my shoulder to stop me.
“Sin is fine, sestra. Otets discovered the plot and pulled her from her assignment. She’s safe at the New York compound.” Something crosses his face, a look I can’t decipher. One I don’t care to decipher, because the relief of his words has relief flooding my body. “She… she wasn’t ready to come back here. She needed time. She…”
Before she can finish.
“She said daughter for daughter. Not daughters for a daughter. If otets has Sin tucked away then…”
She isn’t safe.
A roar has me turning to face the main entrance of the clubhouse. Taz’s angry eyes search the deserted parking lot as he cradles a wailing Aila to his chest.
“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY WIFE?”
Goddamn it Bellamy, what did you do?