Page 133 of Seizing Control: Part Two

Second only to my wife and son, and the twins.

“Prez,” Cub murmurs as he leans in closer.

I am slow to react because I’m captivated by the feel of Cherub, seated next to me on the couch, her thigh and upper arm pressed against mine. My hand is clamped over her thigh, publicly claiming her as mine. With our son asleep on my lap, we are the picture-perfect family. The muscle working in Lazarus’ jaw demonstrates his annoyance at being forced to keep away from his Lily. It’s a fleeting windfall that I should be making the most of instead of giving into my darker thoughts.

Approaching the Adjudicator is important.

Re-establishing my relationship with my wife is urgent.

“Prez.” My technology officer pushes my shoulder. “Needa speak to you.”

I blink twice in an attempt to circumvent the short-circuiting of my brain.

My grip tightens around Cherub’s thigh, and my wife looks at me. “Slash?”

“Gotta go, duchess.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “Will be back asap.”

“Okay.”

She accepts Garrett from me, expertly arranging his chubby body across her lap without putting pressure on the incision in her stomach. Brushing my palm over my son’s head, I collar my wife and hold her in place so I can steal the taste I’ve been craving all day. Always the perfect foil to my lust, no matter the audience, Cherub parts her lips when my tongue swipes along the seam. I kiss my wife, long and deep, taking advantage of her innate submission to my desires, as I lightly constrict her breathing.

Once she’s panting, clutching my cut in her fists, I lean my forehead on hers.

“Don’t leave for the hospital without me.”

A haze of longing shelters behind the embarrassment that flushes her beautiful face, but I see it. The low growling sound behind me tells me that Lazarus sess it too. The apples of my wife’s cheeks redden further when she realises that I can read her like an open book. She snatches her hands from my leather. Her brilliant gaze scans mine, her lips parted as she unthinkingly runs her fingertips along the column of her neck.

“You hearin’ me, duchess?”

“Yes, Slash... I won’t got to the hospital without you.”

I touch the back of the hand skimming her throat.

Her movements still.

With a sharp nod and a knowing look, I silently bid another farewell to my wife. Leaving her in the den, with her friends surrounding her and our sleeping son safe in her arms, I follow Cub into the living room. Meeyal and Toker join us. My brother leans against the doorway, not entering the room, but listening in on our conversation anyway. I eye him, wary of his sudden interest in club business when he’s made no bones about his preference for hiding out on the rooftop at the compound lately.

“What’s goin’ on?” I ask Meeyal.

My watchman moves the curtain to the side. “Buncha TV crews have assembled at the gates.”

“Fuck me,” I curse after confirming that he’s right. “Why are they here?”

“Dunno—”

“The death of Hades Miles has broken,” Layla De La Rue offers as she strides into the living room with Lazarus a few steps behind her. She flips her jet-black ponytail over her shoulder, then fixes her gaze on me. “Considering he was awaiting sentencing for Joseph Kingsley’s death, this is major breaking news in Perth.”

There is something about Layla that rubs me the wrong way.

She dated Hugh St. James for a short time during high school.

This means her connection to the Mayberry siblings is longstanding, even if it’s peripheral.

After Bebe, I can’t bring myself to trust Layla, even though Cub has vouched for her identity after fully vetting her credentials. She’s a journalist, a profession I find lacking in integrity at the best of times. The shit they’ve put me through after my arrest was heightened by the way they hounded my wife during Alex’s trial. The media consists of vipers who attack for clout and vultures who prey on the carcasses of victims.

Their entire purpose is to poison the general public with their lies and mistruths.

When my club brothers turn to face Lazarus, the first part of Layla’s statement hits hard.

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