Page 21 of Chaos & Carnage

“Sawyer’s been shot at, thrown from her bike, and just fought alongside your people. The very last thing she needs is you all firing questions at her.”

The kids bristle, most likely not appreciating Dante talking to them like that, especially after today. Tensions are high, and everyone is on edge.

“It’s okay,” I say softly, glancing up at him. The muscle twitches in his jaw and lifting a hand, I gently squeeze his forearm in an attempt to calm him.

His eyes flick down to mine, not looking at all appeased, yet before he can argue, Marcus reappears. “He’s right.” Marcus’ tone rings with authority—the type that the kids actually listen to, as their spines straighten, their mouths slamming shut. “Get out of here, all of you. Let me and Red talk, and I’ll fill you in later, yeah?”

Unhappy, but knowing better than to argue with Marcus, a round of murmurs goes up, and Dante, Enzo, and I move out of the way to let the boys pass. As they filter out of the room, I notice Luc in the middle of them, along with Bones, Tank, and Rampage. I offer Luc a small smile and give the other three a reassuring squeeze on their shoulders.

When they’re all gone, I walk over to the sofa and all but collapse onto it, my weary body demanding rest. Dante and Enzo flank me, Enzo pulling me onto his lap. Marcus sets down four glasses of whiskey on the coffee table and fills all of them to the brim before passing them out and sinking onto the other sofa.

For a few moments, we sit there in silence, sipping on our whiskeys and lost in our own thoughts before I finally speak up, recapping today’s events. Dante or Enzo occasionally speak up, adding a detail, but otherwise, they remain silent, allowing me to fill Marcus in.

“The men will demand retaliation,” Marcus states when I’m done. His face looks like it has aged ten years in the last half hour.

“So they should,” Enzo states, utterly uncaring that said retaliation is against people he’s known his entire life.

At the sound of his voice, Marcus lifts his gaze from the fixed point on the floor he was staring at to study Enzo. “I get that you were willing to fight your own people to get Luc back, but I have to say, I didn’t expect you to stand up and fight with us today. Every man in that clubhouse saw you. They’ll have seen that you helped them when you could have easily taken advantage of the situation. The outcome of today could have been very different if you’d decided to side with Giovanni.”

“It was never a decision,” Dante speaks up, drawing Marcus’ attention. “Between Sawyer and my father, Sawyer will always be the one I choose.”

Reaching out, I intertwine my fingers with his, giving them a light squeeze before placing his hand on my lap. Dante’s unquestioning devotion to me is something I don’t understand. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to knowing he will always be on my side, no matter the cause or the consequences, but I’ve come to realize he always will. If he’s willing to go against his father for me, to take on the Antonelli Empire—hisempire—then anything else should be easy, right?

Marcus raises an eyebrow. “So you did all that today for Sawyer?”

Instead of the bluntyesI was expecting, Dante’s lips purse as he seems to think over his response. “Sawyer tells me you’re trying to make Black Creek a better place.” It’s not a question, but Marcus nods anyway. “Then, yes, I did it for Sawyer, because she deserves a far better life than the one she had.” He pauses before tacking on, “And I guess I did it because if I can help repair some of my father’s wrongs, then maybe that counts for something.”

And that right there is why Dante is worth saving. Not because he has to make up for his father’s wrongdoings—in my opinion, a child should never have to bear the sins of their father—but because, several weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of remorse. Attempting to correct his father’s wrongs wouldn’t have been something he even considered. Yet, here he is, not only acknowledging those feelings but openly speaking them aloud for Marcus to hear.

Marcus nods, knocking back the last of his whiskey before getting to his feet. “I believe a man should be judged on his own actions. You could have taken Sawyer and gotten the hell out of there, and no one would have blamed you.” I silently harrumph at that, but I don’t say anything because, well, he’s right. It also feels like this is an important moment, so I stay quiet and listen. “But you stayed. Fought.” His eyes move to Enzo, including him in what he has to say next. “I can’t speak for any other Rejects, but your actions today earned my respect.”

See, important moment. I can feel it in the air. In the gasp Enzo holds trapped in his lungs, causing his chest to expand against my back. In Dante’s barely perceptible squeeze of my fingers. In the slight lift of both of their shoulders. I doubt anyone’s ever told them they’ve gained their respect, so I can’t imagine what must be going through their heads right now, having received that respect from a Reject no less.

Enzo gives a curt nod of gratitude, neither of them saying anything more.

“Well, I’m sure none of you have slept much in the last few days. You should get some rest before Cain returns, because he will be on the warpath. Whether you intended to or not, you’ve chosen your side now. You’ll be suited and booted with the rest of us when we march on Grim and Giovanni.”

He strides out of the room, leaving silence in his wake, before Dante breaks it, his voice low when he says, “God, he’s not going to make us wear those clothes, is he?!”

I snort, which turns into full-on hysterics as I double over, cackling like a maniac. Enzo’s arm banded around my waist is the only thing that stops me from sliding onto the floor. Of course, out of everything Marcus just said,thatis what he chooses to focus on—the clothing.

“You broke her,” I hear Enzo mutter, his joking sending me into a fresh fit of laughter. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize my reaction isn’t normal. I’m overtired and on an adrenaline crash, but at least I’m not crying, right?

“Yeah, let’s get you to bed before you completely lose your shit,” Enzo says, realizing how close to breaking I am as I finally manage to get myself under control, heaving gasping breaths into my lungs.

When I catch Dante’s eye, I find him watching me with concern and confusion swimming in his stare, before Enzo lifts me out of his lap. Together, we head over to the house next door, neither of them giving me a chance to look around as they usher me through the front door and up the stairs. Nevertheless, it would be impossible to miss the old-fashioned interior—the horrendous avocado green walls in the hall, the god-awful floral-patterned lamp shades and teal carpet in the living room, and the old honey-oak cabinets I spy in the kitchen.

Thankfully the bedroom is void of the flowery bedspread and matching curtains I was half expecting, instead, simple white bed linen is neatly tucked around a double bed. A small dresser is tucked in the corner of the room, the walls and carpet looking just as shabby as the rest of the house, but at least everything is clean.

Enzo snags my attention as he moves to stand in front of me, his fingers curling around the bottom of my Henley and lifting it up. I can feel Dante’s warmth at my back before his hands snake around my waist, undoing the button of my jeans with deft fingers.

“Mmm.” I smile serenely, letting my eyes drift closed as I soak up the feel of their hands on me, softly stroking up my sides, brushing across my shoulders and sliding down my thighs. “I missed this.”

Dante places a chaste kiss on my shoulder, and when I feel Enzo’s thumb stroke along my cheek, I open my eyes to look at him. The depth of emotion peering back at me leaves me momentarily speechless. His thumb moves to brush along my lower lip, goosebumps rushing along my skin under their sinful touches. Continuing to stare up at him, I fall headfirst into those bright green eyes resembling grass on a sunny day, just tempting you to lie down on it and soak up its sun-soaked warmth. His eyes shine with so much life that I briefly forget about all the death that occurred today.

I’m still held captive in his hypnotic eyes as he leans in until our foreheads are pressed together, our breaths tangling together in the gap between our lips. “Do you have any idea just how deeply in love with you I am?”

My eyes widen, even though I shouldn’t be surprised at his words. Every ounce of emotion is there for me to plainly read. Still, nothing beats hearing it from his delectable lips, especially after flirting so daringly with death several times in the past couple of days.

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