Chapter 35

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

TRISTAN

As much as I don't want to leave her, Conor already has men on the way here. Six of them should be arriving in the next five minutes to keep an eye on her until I get back. Men who would sooner die protecting her than be exposed to my rage if they fail me.

I might not have told her the whole truth, but I didn't lie. What I'm asking of her is not entirely selfish.

This is for her best.

She isn't safe without me. No one close to us is. The Bratva made that very fucking clear last night. Unable to get to Layla or Fiona, they went for the only other woman connected to us.

"Wait…" Layla quietly calls after me when I reach the door. Turning on my heel, tears well in her eyes, and her lower lip trembles as she tries to compose her thoughts.

"Oh, mo cuishle… " I cross the room and pull her tight. "I'm not leaving you . If you need time, I won't be mad at you. "

I might drag you out of here over my shoulder later, but I won't be mad.

"Can…can you wait ten minutes for me to get dressed?" she murmurs against my chest.

"I can give you five. I need to get to my family." I release her from my embrace. "We can get your things later."

She quickly throws on a flowing, blue sundress and a pair of strappy flat heels and nods. Fidgeting with her hair, Layla combs it with her fingers as we walk to the elevator before throwing it into a messy bun atop her head as we make our way to the lobby.

The guys Conor sent are arriving as we step onto the sidewalk. I silently wave them off, not wanting Layla to be aware of their presence. The lot of them continue past us. They'll circle back when we're gone to keep an eye on her building until I give the word to collect her things.

After helping Layla into the car, which Fred graciously didn't tow from the loading zone, I take my phone out to send a quick text to my brothers.

Bringing Layla to the club.

She doesn't know about us or what happened last night.

And she isn't going to find out from the lot of you.

FINN

So I should hide the hookers and guns?

DECLAN

Ignore him.

He's taking this one hard.

And you?

DECLAN

I'm fine.

Speeding through traffic with near the same recklessness as last night, we barrel toward the club. Squeezing my hand on her thigh, Layla asks, "Are your brothers okay?"

"Yes." I rub my thumb over her leg.

"You said your family…" Her voice trails off in confusion, knowing my parents have both long passed.

Pulling up to the club, we park behind a few police cars. Their lights and sirens are now off, the emergency over, and the uniformed officers are roping off the sidewalk in front of Deartháir with caution tape.

"Family isn't always blood," I solemnly reply, squeezing her thigh and sliding from the driver's seat.

"Tris, what happened?" Layla asks as I help her from the car.

"Someone robbed the pub," I straight-faced lie to her. "Go inside the club with Liam for me while I talk to the police for a minute."

"Yeah. Sure." She nods and follows Liam inside.

Crossing the caution tape, I let myself into the pub and eye the damage. It's not the spilled liquor or busted bar stools that draw my attention. I'm engrossed in the distinct smell of urine and the large crimson pool in the center of the floor .

"Thank you, officer." Declan shakes the hand of the man he's speaking with.

"I wish the best for your friend," he responds before pulling back his hand. "She put up one hell of a fight."

I don't need to survey the damage of the bar to know his words are true. She's always had us to watch her back, but she has always been more than capable of taking care of herself.

The last police officer has barely walked out the door when Declan grabs a barstool and hurtles it at the wall. It splinters to pieces as it falls to the floor, and his scream fills the pub.

His nostrils flare as he expels deep, rage-filled breaths. "They treated her like a fucking animal, Tris. She killed one. But the others… They spent the night beating her. Fucking raping her. Torturing her for hours."

He glares at me with pained eyes. "They fucking pissed on her before leaving her to die."

"They'll pay." I grip his shoulder in solidarity. "She's an Evans…"

"And you don't fuck with the Evans," Declan declares.