Chapter Eleven

Naz

S ullivan's club is already reopened for business, every trace of what happened here just a few days ago already wiped clean. No surprise. The incident didn't even make the news. I'm sure he greased the pockets of every politician and cop he knows to keep it under wraps.

It's what he does. It's who he is.

The oversized motherfucker working the front door doesn't try to stop me as I stride past him. Music pumps through the club, the beat vibrating my bones. Strobe lights spin and dance overhead, giving me a fucking headache.

I'm barely four steps in before I've got three of Sullivan's enforcers trailing me.

I ignore them, skirting around the dance floor toward Nolan's office in the back. He's expecting me. I made sure to give him that goddamn courtesy before I showed up. It wasn't out of respect, but necessity. I don't want the prick putting a bullet in me before I say what I came to say.

I promised his daughter that she wouldn't lose me. If I have to haunt this bastard for proving me wrong, I'm going to be pissed about it.

I lift my hand to rap my fingers against his office door, only for one of Sullivan's men to step forward, his expression level as he clears his throat. "Everyone who goes in there gets patted down."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," I growl, rolling my eyes. Do they really expect me to take him out by my damn self in a club full of his people? Either they think I'm seriously the fucking devil…or an idiot. I turn, lifting the sides of my suit coat. "Do I look like I'm armed?"

"Have to check," he grunts, shrugging.

I bite my tongue, jerking my head for him to hurry it the fuck up. Naturally, he takes his sweet time, patting me down like he expects to find an entire arsenal hidden beneath my shirt.

I mutter a curse when his hand crawls all over my dick.

"That's my cock," I grit out.

He sweeps lower, grabbing another handful of it.

"Still my motherfucking cock," I snap, one brow arched. "Satisfied now, or do you want to grab the final four inches of it too?"

"Jesus Christ," he mutters, stepping back with a disgruntled look on his face. As if I had my hands all over his cock. "He's unarmed."

I shoot him a cold look, pinning the other two with it as well. They fidget under the weight of it, uncomfortable, unsettled.

Good. They should be.

"I'm not your fucking enemy," I growl before turning to rap on Sullivan's door. I don't bother to wait for an answer before I step inside his office, letting the door slam closed behind me.

His office is as predictable as the man himself. Expensive scotch bottles line shelves behind his imposing desk, the Irish flag stretched across one wall. Awards hang on the other three walls, mingling between photos of his family and those he's taken with celebrities and whoever the fuck else this man thinks will lend him a little legitimacy.

It's almost laughable how zealously he's curated that image. He's every bit as monstrous as I am, every bit the criminal. He loves the power. He loves the game. But he chases legitimacy like it he thinks catching it, surrounding himself with it, will make him anything other than what he is.

He looks up at me, an infuriating mix of anger, curiosity, and cold amusement in eyes too goddamn much like his daughter's. The hint of triumph glinting in their depths, as if he thinks I'm here like some beaten dog, makes me homicidal.

Cristo . I want to flip that desk and wrap my hand around his throat, remind him exactly who the fuck I am. But I'm not here for that. I'm here for her. I'm here…to make new rules. To be something—to forge something different.

I told her to choose peace the day we met, but it isn't hers to choose. It never was. If I want peace in her life, it's up to me and this motherfucker right here to choose it for her.

I'm willing to give her that. Is he?

"Leyva." He leans back in his leather chair, smirking. "Looking for something?"

My jaw clenches, anger coursing through me. The prick thinks I'm here to beg for Josef's body back. He's waving it in my face like a flag in front of a bull, hoping I charge at the bait.

"I'm not here for Josef's body, Sullivan. We both know you aren't giving it up so he can be buried," I mutter. "Decency is only in your nature when people like those in the photos on your walls are watching."

His smirk slips at the insult. "Then why are you here? I have a club to run."

"I'm here about your daughter."

Surprise flares in his eyes, followed by steely anger. He flattens his palms against the top of his desk, his body stiffening. "What the fuck do you want with my daughter, Nazario?"

"You already know, Sullivan. You knew the truth the minute she came back to you unharmed. You just didn't want to admit it."

"Say it, you fucking prick," he growls.

"What is it you want to hear? That I've been seeing her since the gala?" I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets to hide the way they shake. I've never been a man to show vulnerability, to lay my cards on the table for anyone to see. And baring my fucking soul to a man who'd use it against me in a heartbeat is the epitome of uncomfortable.

But when that man is Brynna's father? The one capable of helping me ensure she's safe? I'll slice my veins open and bleed if that's what I need to do.

"Do you need to hear that I'm in love with her? That she feels the same way?" I grit out. "What do you need to hear to end this fucking war for her sake, Sullivan? Tell me, and you'll hear it. Every goddamn word of it will be true, too."

His eyes widen before his face contorts with rage. He leaps to his feet, his chair crashing against the wall behind him. "You motherfucker! You've been manipulating her this entire time, trying to use her to destroy me."

"No, I haven't. I considered it. I wanted to make you squirm, take her from you and break you, and then I met her." I hold his gaze, letting him read the truth in mine. "She isn't something to be used, Sullivan. She isn't a pawn. I haven't asked her a single thing about your family. I haven't tried to get a single scrap of information from her. The last place I want her is in the middle."

"You lying bastard," Nolan practically shouts. "You killed her fucking bodyguards!"

"I came to burn this club to the ground," I snap, and even though I shouldn't, I appreciate the little sliver of fear that flares in his eyes. It feeds my soul. "She's the reason it's still standing. As a matter of fact, she's the only reason I haven't ripped through your entire goddamn family like a missile. I don't want her in the middle ."

"If she's in the middle, it's because you put her there," he snarls, leaning over the desk, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. "You put your goddamn hands on her. On my daughter!"

"And you put her in a cage," I growl, my hands clenching into fists. "How much longer do you think she was going to survive it, Sullivan? How many more bodies do you think you could pile on her conscience before she snapped? One more? Two?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Open your eyes!" I roar. "Your daughter? The one you're so worried about now? She's been drowning in your care for years! But you were too busy looking the other way to even notice, so don't stand there now and act like I'm the monster for loving her. Someone needed to."

Maybe he loves his daughter, but he hasn't loved her right. He put her in a cage and neglected to notice that it wasn't nearly big enough for her. It was smothering her, killing her light. And he just let it happen, over and over again, day after fucking day.

Brynna wasn't meant for a cage. She wasn't meant to be smothered. She needs more than that. And this prick has had his head too far up his own ass to realize that his brand of protection was a death sentence for her.

"If you want to hate me for setting her free, so be it. I can't stop you. But she will be free. And she won't be in the middle of this war. I didn't come here to beg. I didn't come to plead. I won't get on my fucking knees, Sullivan," I say, my lip curling as I stare at him. "I came to give you a chance to do right by her because it's what she deserves. But I'll force you and your family with my boot on your neck if that's what I have to do to protect her."

Nolan slams his fist down on the desk, the crystal tumblers and decanter on top rattling violently. His eyes blaze with fury, a vein pulsing at his temple. "You think you can come in here and threaten me? Threaten my family? I will wipe you and your entire fucking empire from existence before you touch my daughter again, Leyva."

I laugh softly. He still doesn't get it. He still thinks this is a war. It isn't. The rules have changed. This is a hostile takeover. And I'm willing to swallow any poison pill necessary to do what needs to be done.

"You aren't hearing me, Sullivan. She's what matters. She's the only thing that matters. I'll rip it all apart if that's what it takes to protect her. Try to take her from me and I'll burn your fucking world to the ground," I say, striding toward the door. "Insist on continuing your little war and I'll raze your empire and mine both. When I'm finished, there won't be anything but ash left."

I leave him standing there, spluttering and cursing my existence, as I step out into the hall, slamming the door behind me. He can try to fight me. He can try to continue this war. It'll only cost him everything in the end. The only things I'll leave are Brynna, Niall, and a fucking roof over the old bastard's head.

And I'll inflict the same damage on my own empire if that's what it takes. I'll raze it to the goddamn ground and start again.

Fuck Rojas. Fuck duty. Fuck everything.

I'm done.

I've been this man for long enough. My people want someone new? They're going to get him. But they really shouldn't have bit the hand that feeds them. Because new Nazario? He's done sacrificing everything for an empire he never wanted in the first place.

"Nazario." My name pulses over the music thrumming through the club.

I glance to the left, muttering a curse when I see Niall step out of the shadows beside his father's office door. Fucking great. Now I have to deal with the other one. And I like this one less than the one I just walked out on.

"What?" I snap, keeping my hands in my pockets…away from the temptation of his throat. I haven't forgotten the shit he said to Brynna at the gala. Nor have I forgotten that he's the one who snatched bliss from her at the bookstore.

Niall steps closer, his lips compressed into a thin line, his expression tight. And just like in that office, looking into his eyes is like looking into Brynna's. They're so much alike it's eerie. Except there's no innocence here, and whatever light he has left is dim and dull, tarnished so badly it'll never truly shine again.

"We need to talk," he mutters, sounding exactly like a motherfucker who'd rather be saying anything else.

"So talk." What? I don't plan on making it easy for him. I've had my fill of bullshit for the day.

"I heard you in there," he says.

"If you're here to threaten me, get on with it. I've got shit to do."

His jaw tightens, a muscle ticking. "Don't be a fucking asshole, Nazario. I'm talking about what you said about Brynna."

"Ah. So, you're here to fight."

"No." He glares at me. "I'm asking if you meant it. Because the only thing in this world that matters to me is her. And that's the only reason I kept my fucking mouth shut about the two of you."

Well, fuck.

"I've done a lot of fucked up things in my life," I murmur, giving him the truest answer I know how to give. "But your sister?" I swallow hard. "She's the one thing I've gotten right. Yeah, I meant it. Every goddamn word."

Niall jerks his chin in a nod. "Then you should know that one of your men has been sending us information on your organization for the last year. They know everything about you and your business."

"I gathered as much when you hijacked my shipment," I mutter, not revealing the one and only piece of information about their family Brynna did reveal to me—my fucking rat.

"You don't know everything I do," he says, dragging a hand down his face. "Your man isn't your man, Leyva. He works for Rojas."

I freeze at the sound of Rojas' name falling from his lips. At confirmation of what I already suspected. The betrayal stings even though it shouldn't, even though I should have been prepared for it.

Cristo .

"Why are you telling me this, Niall?"

"Because my sister was at your office earlier today," he says, his eyes locked on my as if daring me to deny it. "And after the shit that just went down in there, I'm guessing she'll be spending a lot more time with you soon. Her safety has always been my priority, and if Rojas's man gets his hands on her, he'll kill her just to break you."

"Fuck," I mutter, my stomach twisting at the thought. But he's right. I've considered it myself. If Rojas has a man inside my organization, he wouldn't hesitate to kill Brynna just to destroy me. Cristo . He killed my entire family just to destroy my father. And he's been trying to kill me ever since. He doesn't like to lose, and to him, I'm living, breathing proof that he lost, that he failed. Until I'm dead or he is, he'll never forgive that.

"Maybe you were right in there and we fucked up, smothered her," Niall says. "I don't know. But you were right about her being miserable." He glances away as guilt flickers in his eyes. "She's been miserable for a long goddamn time."

At least he can admit it, even if their father can't. Dio . At least one of them knows her well enough to recognize it.

"As much as it pains me to admit it, Leyva," he continues, "she isn't miserable with you. You make her happy for some goddamn reason. So when she comes to you, I need you to fucking guarantee that you meant what you said in there and you'll keep her safe, even if it means dismantling everything."

"This empire is your future." I motion around us. "You'd tear it down for your sister?"

He meets my gaze, the truth glittering in the depths of his eyes. Perhaps, there's a little bit of light left in him after all. It's her. "In a fucking heartbeat," he growls.

"Then you know exactly how far I'm willing to go to protect her," I murmur, meeting his gaze. "You have my word, Niall. I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

He stares at me for a minute, searching for any hint that I'm playing him, that I'm a threat to his sister. But he finds none. There is none. So he nods reluctantly. "I'd really like to hate you," he mutters. "You just fucked everything in there."

I cock my head to the side, staring at him.

"You don't know, do you?" he asks, surprise filtering across his face.

"Know what?"

"She chose you, Leyva. As soon as he confronts her, she'll be on your doorstep," he mutters. "He won't give her a choice. Not after that."

"Fuck," I curse, my heart clenching. "That wasn't what I wanted. It isn't what she wants."

"Yeah, well, shit doesn't always work out that way." He places a hand on the handle to his father's door. "Take care of her."

I nod, watching as he slips inside his father's office. Fuck. I wanted her with me, but not like this. I may have solved one problem and created an entirely new problem.

I scrub a hand down my face, and then turn and make my way back out into the club. As soon as I step out of the hallway, the three fuckers from earlier are on my ass again.

They follow me all the way to the damn doors.

Because I am who the fuck I am, I flip them the bird as I sail through, stepping out into the night.

"Cocky prick," the one who patted me down mutters under his breath.

"You'd know. You had your hands all over it," I call over my shoulder, striding toward the SUV Nicolas has waiting on the curb.

I climb into the SUV and settle against the leather seat as Nicolas merges into traffic.

He glances over at me. "How did it go, príncipe?"

I stare at him for a long moment, searching his face, trying to read behind the familiar lines I've known for half my life. The man who's been my right hand since I was a teenager, who I thought I could trust with anything. But doubt niggles at the back of my mind now, refusing to quiet.

I sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Our rat works for Rojas," I mutter.

Nicolas's eyes widen before he schools his expression. But I catch the flicker of unease, the tightening around his mouth. "Fuck. Do they know who it is?"

I shrug, looking out the window at the city blurring by the windows, neon signs and streetlights streaking in a kaleidoscope. "Probably."

I feel his gaze on me, probing, questioning. But I don't offer anything more. It's a shitty day when I trust Niall Sullivan more than my oldest friend. But here we are.

For the first time since I met him, I'm not sure where his loyalties truly lie. Oh, he's loyal to the Leyva name, I have no doubt. But is he loyal to me? Does he serve Nazario?

I've never had a reason to question it before. He's always been the devil on my shoulder, ready to whisper encouragement or condemnation in equal measure. He's seen me at my worst and never flinched.

But Brynna changed the game. She changed me in ways I didn't see coming. In ways Nicolas never anticipated. Falling for the enemy's daughter? Being willing to destroy everything to keep her safe? It goes against everything I've ever done. Everything I'm supposed to be.

This organization—this empire—is supposed to come before all things. Keeping Rojas at bay and protecting my people has always been the priority. No matter what I had to sacrifice. No matter how brutal, bloody, or violent I had to be.

The people still matter. Keeping Rojas at bay still matters. But Brynna? She's my soul.

Shit. Maybe the whispers were right, and I didn't have one. Not until now. Not until her.

So it begs the fucking question…where does Nicolas's allegiance lie now? Would he side with Rojas if he thought I was losing my grip on the throne?

I hate that I'm even thinking it. But in this world, doubt keeps you breathing. And trust gets you killed.

"Perhaps it is time to cull the ranks, Nazario," he finally says, glancing over at me again.

"Maybe it is, Nicolas," I murmur, closing my eyes. "Maybe it is."