Page 11 of Chaos & Carnage

“I mean, she’s at the clubhouse,” Dax repeats. “She just showed up at the gate.”

I can’t for the life of me work out how the hell she got there without one of my men spotting her. Although, I equally can’t work out where the fuck she’s been these last two days. My men have scoured every goddamn inch of this city searching for her, to the point where we were all in agreement Giovanni must have her—one of the only things all four of us have actually agreed on.

We were in the middle of a heated argument about how the hell we were going to get her back, when my phone rang. Half expecting it to be news that the clubhouse was under attack, I answered it immediately, but this news is way better than anything I anticipated.

“Keep her safe. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

I hang up, not waiting for a response. Everyone has already jumped into action around me, the maps and plans we were pouring over a moment ago forgotten at the news of Red’s safety. Even though she’s not in my arms yet, just the knowledge that she’s not hidden in some secret bunker being tortured at Giovanni’s hands has relief like nothing I’ve ever felt before flooding through my system, making me feel lighter than I have in days.

My eyes clash with Oliver’s, the same hope flaring in his. “Red?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Is she…”

“I dunno,” I admit, shaking my head. Dax didn’t say what state she was in, but I imagine if it were bad he’d have said.

Without another word, we’re striding toward the door, but echoing footsteps behind me have me spinning around.

“Like fucking hell we’re not coming with you,” Dante snarls before I can open my mouth to say exactly that. By this point, I’ve seen every shade of Dante’s anger. Mostly, it’s cold and deadly, but he looks ready to explode right now, and I know if I try to keep him away from her, he’ll gladly knock me the fuck out before claiming her for himself. No fucking chance I’m going to let that happen.

For the first time, I don’t bother arguing with him. Maybe it’s my own urgency to get to Red as quick as possible, or maybe it’s that look of desperation I can see in his eyes—like he’s as impatient as I am to see her. For a split second, I see myself reflected in his russet brown depths. That longing, that hunger, that itching desire to touch the one woman who makes breathing worthwhile. Fuck, maybe Dante and I are just two sides of the same coin. Two men undeserving of love, but who found it anyway. And now that we have, neither one of us is willing to let it go.

“Fine,” I grunt out, frowning in confusion as I turn my back on him and stride toward the front door. I shouldn’t be finding fucking similarities between Dante and me. I shouldn’t be finding something that makes him redeemable. That makes me not want to rip his fucking head off when he calls Red his wife and states with such authority that she’s his, because she’s not just his. She’smine.She’sOliver’s. She’sours.

And yet, she’s alsotheirs, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do with that.

“I expected more of a fight,” Oliver states casually once we’re inside the confines of the Cadillac.

“I just wanna get to Red.”

“So, you’re going to let them in the clubhouse?”

My hands clench around the leather steering wheel, hating the thought of having Antonelli scum insidemyclubhouse. Fucking hell, what will the men think when they see them rocking up in their stupid fucking suits. Maybe I’ll get lucky, and they’ll shoot them on sight. Or, more likely, my men will think I’ve gone completely fucking insane when I tell them to lower their weapons.

“What the fuck should I do, O?” Although the words are spit out in an angry snarl, that anger isn’t aimed at him. Which, thankfully, he seems to know.

“I’m not sure. Until now, only the kids and Marcus have seen them hanging around, but I don’t know how the rest of the men will react. You know what some of them have suffered at Antonelli hands. They won’t take well to us letting them stride right through the front door.”

My lips purse, knowing he’s right. What the hell am I meant to tell my men? How will they respect and look up to me as a leader when I order them to lower their weapons on their enemies—enemies who have irreparably damaged their families as they have mine?

Dante and Enzo may not have delivered the fatal blow—I honestly don’t know—but whether or not they did is irrelevant. It’s what they represent. When my men look at their suits, all they’ll see is the enemy. The self-absorbed Antonelli family has done nothing but leave us to rot in the gutter of this city, waiting until we’re at our lowest before storming in and reminding us that even when you think things can’t get worse, they always can. You canalwayssink lower.

It was one thing to inform my men that we were working with them to infiltrate Giovanni’s tower and get Luc back, but to openly invite them into the clubhouse… that’s far more personal. The clubhouse is home to many of my men. It’s their sanctum, their safe space, and I’m about to violate it by traipsing the enemy through the front door.

Showing up with them on my heels is as good as committing treason with regard to my men. Perhaps I should have fought for them to stay behind, but I knew simply by looking into Dante’s eyes that it wasn’t a fight I was going to win. And goddammit, I fucking understand that because if the shoe was on the other foot and he was telling me to stay behind, I’d sooner tell him to go fuck himself. Nothing and no one would keep me from Red.

“I don’t know what I can do short of putting a bullet through their knees, which will only infuriate Red. No matter what I decide, someone will be pissed, and the problem is that I can empathize with both sides. I can understand why my men will be pissed—hell,I’mnot exactly happy about it—but I can also relate to their desperation to see Red with their own eyes because it’s exactly the same urgency that’s pushing me to rush to her now.”

“No matter what, your allegiances are going to be questioned. Even if you make it clear that they’re just there for Red, the fact that we’re all in a relationship with her is going to raise questions. The men will be suspicious and demand to know what side you’re on.”

“I’m ontheirside,” I grind out in frustration. “I’ll always be on their side. Most of those men came to me when they were at their lowest, when they’d just lost everything they held dear, and the only reason their lungs still held breath was because they demanded vengeance. I saw them broken and angry, and I promised them retribution. I’m not breaking that promise. I’d sooner die than turn my back on any one of them.”

“I know that,” Oliver reasons, his voice maintaining its calm serenity. I don’t know how the hell he does that, how he remains so calm in the face of adversity, in the face of my anger, in the face of finding out our lives will never be free of those two Antonelli scum. I want to rage and storm until everything around me is broken and shattered and in chaos, mirroring the carnage inside me. “Even they know it,” he continues. “They’ve witnessed the extent of your loyalty to them. Today won’t undo all of that. You just need to make them see that your priorities haven’t changed. That their vengeance is your vengeance. Redirect their anger to Giovanni. Remind them who the true source of their hatred is.”

Oliver’s words bolster me as I stop at the gate into the parking lot, waiting for one of my men to open it. When they do, I drive inside and park in a space, taking a steadying breath before pushing open the door and climbing out. Enzo’s car follows, parking beside mine, and I swear I feel the questioning gazes of every one of my men as I round the hood and walk toward the clubhouse.

I can feel the pressure of fingers against triggers. Muscles pulled taut as my guys wait for a signal to shoot. The furrow of brows and exchanging of glances as they silently question why there are Antonellis on Reject property, why I’d bring them here.

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