Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
JOHAN
Giovanni Bianchi ordered the hit on my life.
That’s what Laz learned on his phone call earlier with Stefano Ricci. And when he called Giovanni, he didn’t deny it.
I rub a hand over my face, then pick up the glass of gin Noah made for me and take a healthy sip.
Noah’s already fixing a second one, along with a glass of scotch for himself. He’s usually a martini guy. But he clearly needs something stronger.
As did I.
Laz is the only one not drinking.
He’s seated calmly behind his desk, his fingers on his keyboard as he sends out commands via secure channels.
There’s already a small army surrounding the estate, but he’s requesting more men, just in case.
And he’s checking in on all of our business assets, ensuring that Giovanni hasn’t attempted to attack us anywhere else.
I try to help from my laptop, but my nerves are fucking fried.
Leaving Lark alone in her room didn’t sit right with me. She made a comment about understanding Laz’s need to meet with just the pack, suggesting she didn’t see herself as part of our unit yet.
We haven’t claimed her, and she hasn’t claimed us. So I suppose she’s not officially ours, but my heart and soul already belong to her.
She’s my omega.
My center.
If she wants to be, I think, taking another sip of my drink before slamming the empty glass on the desk.
Noah is there a second later to swap it with another helping, but I ignore it and fire up my backup laptop instead.
Lark has my preferred laptop.
Which has me wondering what she might be doing with it right now.
But I refrain from hacking in to find out. She deserves her privacy, even if she’s contacting her brother right now for an update.
Fucking Giovanni.
Narrowing my gaze, I decide to go hunting. I want proof that he hired Bastian to take me out. And I want to see if there’s any indication of why he chose me.
Because I’m the one who found his sister? I wonder. Does he see me as a primary threat?
That would normally be a compliment. But right now it just fuels my need to know more.
I start pulling up programs and screens, logging in with my usual protocols before diving into tracer logs.
I want his phone history, proof that he’s even talked to Bastian. So that’s where I start, drawing up all the records I can find for his various phone numbers. If he’s smart, he used a burner. But there has to be a trace of something somewhere.
And I’m going to find it.
Data starts to populate, my eyes scanning, my sense of time slipping away as I pull everything into a database. Writing a few scripts, I begin sorting through the logs in a way that allows me to search for specific terms. Numbers. Assassin codes.
I’m familiar with the latter because of Noah. There’s a whole dark web filled with bounties. He takes on special projects when he wants to hone one of his skills. Or if he despises whatever the mark did.
“I have standards,” he once said when explaining what types of assignments he favors. “If they’ve hurt women or children, they meet those standards.”
He has a particular hatred for men who prey on the innocent. It’s why he was pissed when he couldn’t join the Widows during their trip to the Henderson mansion last month. That place was full of marks that he longed to kill.
But Laz and I forced him to stay behind and observe.
“If something goes wrong, you can go in and help. Otherwise, stay put.” That was Laz’s command.
So I hacked into the feeds, and we listened from afar. Aside from a minor hiccup with Silva, everything went fine.
Noah was pissed, though, that he didn’t get to go out and play.
Except, we weren’t ready to take Lark yet.
And now I’m wondering if we were ever going to be ready at all.
I don’t think she knew about the hit on me. But I meant what I said about not blaming her if she did.
She’s a fighter. I respect that. Not too keen on being killed in the process. However, if she wants me to die for her, I will.
I pull up another screen, aware that Laz and Noah have been talking while I’ve been working. I’ve not paid attention, too busy searching the dark web for—
A message pops up, interrupting my flow and making me frown.
LarkFerraro: Check your email.
I blink at the username. It’s pretty clear who sent it. Although, it’s interesting that she’s updated her handle from LarkWhite to LarkFerraro.
JohnAegean: Cute last name.
LarkFerraro: Careful or you might offend the boss.
I smirk.
JohnAegean: He doesn’t scare me.
LarkFerraro: I wish I could say the same.
And my smirk dies.
JohnAegean: He meant what he said—he’ll never hurt you.
She doesn’t reply, which has me glancing up at the man in question.
“You have some work to do with our omega,” I inform him, cutting off whatever he’s just said to Noah about security parameters.
Ignoring them again, I open my email and gape at the information dump waiting for me.
After skimming a few threads, I flip back to the messenger screen.
JohnAegean: How did you find all of this?
LarkFerraro: He’s my brother. I knew where to look.
Dots appear and disappear as she types and deletes.
“Johan,” Laz says, the emphasis on my name yanking my gaze up to his from my computer. He’s clearly been talking while I’ve been reading Lark’s report. “Why do I have work to do?”
I frown at him. “What?”
His dark eyes narrow. “You said I have work to do with our omega. Why?”
“Oh, right, that. She’s afraid of you. So you need to fix that.”
Lark’s messenger icon flashes, drawing my attention back to my laptop.
LarkFerraro: I’m realizing now that this probably just makes me look more guilty. I was trying to do the opposite, to prove I’m not involved. Though, now you’ll assume I deleted something, which defeats the entire purpose. Sorry.
LarkFerraro has left the chat.
I frown, then connect directly to the laptop she’s using to send her a response.
And I don’t bother with my alternate identity handle, instead using my real name.
Johan: You have nothing to prove to me, sweetheart. If you were involved, I forgive you. End of discussion.
I leave the computer before she can get angry with me for intruding on her privacy. Although, technically, that computer she’s using is mine.
But she’s slowly making it her own.
“What the hell are you doing?” Laz demands, his irate tone grabbing my attention.
I look at him. “Why are you yelling?”
He gapes at me. “Have you heard nothing I’ve said?”
“Pretty sure he’s been ignoring you while flirting with a certain hacker,” Noah says. “Kind of jealous, if I’m honest. I would love a reason to tune you out.”
“Fuck off, Noah.”
“Happily,” the enforcer returns, standing. “I’ll just go knot our—”
“Is neither of you taking this seriously?” Laz demands. “We’re at war.”
“Yes and no,” I murmur, pulling up the message exchange that Lark found. “It wasn’t a true hit.”
Which is why I didn’t find any bounties with my name on them while searching the dark web.
Spinning my computer around to show Laz, I let him read the written exchange between Bastian and Uriah.
“It didn’t even come from Giovanni, but from the elders who advise him. And it was meant to be a kidnapping, not an assassination. I assume their intention was to force a trade—me for Lark.” I shrug. “Pretty standard.”
“Where did you find all this?” Laz demands after he finishes reading.
Noah takes the laptop next, wanting to catch up.
While he skims the conversation, I reply, “Lark found it and sent it to me.”
Laz’s jaw ticks. “That’s convenient.”
“Yes. And if you read my conversation with her”—I take the laptop back from Noah to pull up that screen and flip it around to show Laz—“you’ll see she already commented on that.”
I let him read everything so he sees what she said about being afraid of him, too.
I know he’s caught that part when his lips curl downward.
“She doesn’t trust me,” he says, mouth tightening.
“Do you trust her?” Noah counters before I can voice the same question. “Do you think she helped her brother?”
Laz considers it for a beat. “I don’t know.” He looks at Noah and then at me. “What are your instincts telling you?”
“That she had a good reason to want me dead in the beginning,” I reply without missing a beat. “I’m the one who tracked her down. I enabled her capture, too.”
He nods. Then looks to Noah for his answer.
“She was like a little angry hornet when she boarded our jet. Her fighting back is a turn-on.” He shrugs. “I like that she’s a strong mate. It’ll help her survive our pack.”
“But do you think she aided in the assassination attempt?” Laz presses.
“Does it matter?” Noah counters.
“If she were anyone else, it absolutely would,” Laz points out. “So yes, I think it matters. Not because I want to punish her for it—at least not in a traditional sense—but because we have to decide if we can trust her.”
Silence falls between the three of us.
“She can’t have confidence in us if we don’t have faith in her allegiance,” Laz adds after a moment of contemplation. “And trust is vital for her approaching heat.”
“Then let’s talk to her,” Noah suggests, being a voice of reason—which isn’t his usual mode. “We’ll tell her that if she tried to get Johan kidnapped or killed, we forgive her. If she didn’t, then we’ve wasted time debating on how to proceed.”
“I’m going to amend only slightly and suggest that Laz talk to her. Noah and I are not the issue here.”
Laz arches a brow. “And I am?”
“Yes.” I close my laptop and set it to the side. “You’re the one questioning her loyalty.”
I lift my hand to halt him when he starts to reply.
“I’m not saying you’re wrong, Laz.” I voice the words quietly, wanting him to hear me.
“Then what are you saying?” he demands.
“I’m pointing out that it’s your responsibility as our don to protect the pack.
And it’s the pack’s responsibility to be loyal to you.
If you’re questioning her motives, you’re questioning her worth.
So talk to her. That’s the only way you’ll be able to determine if she’s truly meant to be ours or not. ”
Noah makes a noise of discontent, clearly disagreeing with the concept of her not being meant for us.
While I agree, I don’t voice it aloud.
Because, as I said, this isn’t my issue. This is Laz’s query.
Noah and I have more than accepted our fate. Fuck, Noah’s already professed his love and proposed. He might be psychotic, but he means every word he’s said to her.
And I’ve been enamored with the woman since I discovered her on the dark web. There’s no question in my mind that she’s ours.
Laz is the only one holding himself back.
“Go tell her how you feel. Hear her out. And we’ll determine how to proceed from there.” I push out of my seat and grab my laptop. “Meanwhile, Noah and I will be in the gym.”
I could use a workout after all this bullshit. And I know the only way to distract Noah right now is with a good sparring session.
“Or we could go knot our omega again,” Noah says, glaring at me. “I would enjoy that more than kicking your ass.”
My lips curl. “Kick my ass and I’ll let you knot me there.” It’s an invitation and a promise, one that has his nostrils flaring.
It doesn’t matter that we already went two rounds with Lark today. We’re both pent up and on the edge of a serious rut. He knows that as well as I do.
The moment she goes into heat, we’re fucked. Literally.
She’s going to be ripped apart by our aggression. Assuming Laz comes to his damn senses and indulges in our omega’s heat.
Though, even if he decides she’s not pack—which had better not fucking happen—Noah and I won’t be able to stay away from her.
“She’s ours, Laz,” I tell him. “So go talk to her. Apologize. Earn her loyalty and respect. Kiss her. Knot her. Claim her. I don’t fucking care. Just do whatever you need to do to resolve this doubt. Or it’s going to destroy our pack.”
I grab Noah by the arm to drag him out of his chair.
He flips a blade in his hand, the weapon one I didn’t even see him pull. But he doesn’t use it. Just menacingly twirls it between his fingers, likely because he’s attempting to soothe his mounting rage.
“Ditto.” Noah’s statement comes out in a snarl of sound. Then he palms my nape, his knife dangerously sharp against my skin. “I’m in a violent mood, tech boy. You sure you’re ready to handle that?”
“Give me a bō, and I’ll handle anything you want,” I return, the insinuation in my voice clear.
He smiles, but it’s not a kind expression. Instead, it’s underlined with lethal intent. “Then let’s go play.” He shoots Laz a glare. “And you go fix your mess.”
“My mess?” Laz repeats, incredulity layering his tone. “My mess?”
“Glad to know you heard me, boss. Now fix it.” He drags me from the room without a backward glance, his blade breaking the skin with the force of his movements.
It’s going to be a rough session.
But I welcome it.
Because I have no intention of holding back.
Bring on the rut…