Page 69 of Azrael

“We need to send a message,” Magnus suggested, his voice calm but his gaze cold.

“What about drawing him out?”I suggested, the plan forming as I spoke.“If Balal is as obsessed with controlling his sister as it sounds, he won’t stop.He’ll send more men or come himself eventually.We can use that.”

The room fell silent as everyone considered this approach.I could see the calculations happening behind each man’s eyes -- weighing risks, considering angles.

“It’s too dangerous,” Mazida protested.“I won’t be bait for my brother.”

“Not you,” I clarified.“Information.Controlled leaks about your whereabouts, your routine.We create opportunities that aren’t really there.”

Charming nodded slowly.“Could work.We’d need to be careful though.Make sure Mazida and Zara are actually somewhere completely different.”

“My house,” Gator said suddenly.“Mazida can keep staying with me.I’ve got the space, and no one would think to look there.”

I studied him closely, trying to read the motivation behind his offer.Gator was a private man -- his home was his sanctuary.Offering it up wasn’t something he did lightly.One night had been strange enough, but this was entirely different.

“You sure about that?”Charming asked, clearly thinking the same thing.

Gator nodded, his attention still on Mazida.“Absolutely.Place has good sightlines.Easy to secure.”He finally looked away from her to address Charming directly.“Plus, I’ve got nothing else going on.Can keep an eye on things 24/7.”

It made sense from a tactical perspective, but there was more to it than that.I’d seen that look before -- men who recognized something in a woman that called to them.Not just attraction, but a deeper pull.

“I don’t want to impose,” Mazida said softly.

“You wouldn’t be,” Gator replied, his voice gentler than I’d ever heard it.“It would be my honor to help.”

The room fell silent again, but this time the silence held a different quality -- like we were all witnessing something unexpected unfold between these two damaged souls.

Charming cleared his throat.“All right, that’s settled then.Gator’s place for Mazida.And Zara will obviously be with Azrael.”

“And Balal?”Magnus asked, bringing us back to the original problem.

I felt my expression harden.“Like I said, we draw him out.Make him think he’s got a chance at grabbing Mazida again.But when he makes his move…” I let the sentence hang unfinished.

“We end the threat permanently,” Charming finished for me, his voice matter-of-fact.

Mazida’s head snapped up, her dark eyes wide.“You mean kill him.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway.“Yes.”

I expected protest, hesitation at least.He was her brother, after all.Blood.But Mazida’s expression shifted, hardened in a way that reminded me again of my mother in her rare moments of defiance.

“He killed my husband,” she said quietly.“Threatened my daughter.And he will never stop.If this is what must be done, then let it be done.”

The weight of her permission settled over us like a blessing and a burden both.This wasn’t just club business anymore.It was justice.

“We’ll need intel,” Ripper said, breaking the heavy moment.“Shade can dig into your brother’s movements, track when he might come stateside.”

As the room broke into tactical discussions, I watched Gator move to sit closer to Mazida.He didn’t touch her, didn’t crowd her space, but positioned himself like a shield between her and the door.It was subtle, probably unconscious on his part, but it spoke volumes.

“You okay with all this?”I asked, dropping into the empty seat beside her.

Mazida considered the question, her hands folded tightly in her lap.“I left my home country to escape men who thought they owned me.I’d fallen in love, got married.Then my husband brought me to this country.We built a life here, raised my daughter to be strong and independent.”She looked up at me, old pain and new determination stamped on her features.“I will not let my brother take that away.Not after everything it cost me to build it.”

I nodded, understanding completely.Some choices weren’t really choices at all, but necessities.

“Your mother,” she said suddenly, her perception catching me off guard.“She suffered similarly, didn’t she?I see it in your eyes when you look at me.”

The question hit me like a physical blow.I rarely spoke of my mother, had buried those memories deep.But Mazida had seen through me with the perception of someone who recognized a fellow survivor.

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