Chapter Twelve

Aurelio

I didn't know panic like I did as I heard Claire on the other end of the phone, voice tight, terrified, as her psychopath of an ex tried to kick the door in.

Of course, that panic only ratcheted up when the call cut out. And I had no fucking idea what was going on in that house.

We weren't far away.

Ten, twelve minutes, maybe, with how fast Milo was driving.

And I could see the headlights peel out behind us, knowing there were a dozen men, maybe more, coming with us, ready to fight to the death for this innocent woman and her little boy whose only sin in this world was being fathered by a fucking lunatic.

Still, ten or twelve minutes, that could be the difference between Warren finding them, dragging them out, and disappearing with them.

It could be the difference between life and death.

"She's going to be okay," Milo assured me. "They both are."

Milo wasn't one for offering comfort, and I couldn't bring myself to believe him anyway as my heart lodged in my throat and my pulse hammered.

How long would it take to kick in my door?

I'd taken out the nails that had come with my door and drilled much deeper ones, knowing it would offer a bit more stability in the case of an attack. But I was kicking myself for not installing a steel-reinforced one.

I guess, in the past, all I worried about was myself. And even if I was caught off-guard, I knew I had weapons.

And, short of them, I could fight.

But there were Claire and Judah, alone in the house, with no access to the guns, and nothing between them and Warren fucking Graves but a standard front door.

My hands curled into fists, my nails digging into my skin as Milo took a turn at a speed that should have had us up on two wheels, but he managed to keep control, whipping up and down the familiar streets with skills I hadn't known he possessed, despite being the one who'd taught him to drive.

Or so I thought.

There must have been a scout positioned somewhere, though, hidden in the bushes or sitting in a car.

Because by the time we were pulling down my street, Warren and his men were peeling off.

A part of me wanted to tell Milo to go after them, to pull up beside them, and shoot the motherfuckers right through the window, to end this once and for all.

But this wasn't about revenge.

Not yet.

This was about Claire and Judah.

Milo barely slowed the car down before I was throwing open the door and rushing out, making my way up the front yard, seeing my man in the grass.

"I've got him," Milo said, coming running up behind me. "Go find them."

I felt a stab of guilt for not even checking to see if my man was still breathing, but I fought it back as I saw the kicked-in front door, knowing Claire and Judah were in there somewhere.

Two steps in the door, I felt my anxiety intensify as I heard it.

Judah screaming and crying.

If Claire was with him, why was he crying like that?

I took the stairs two at a time, my stomach at my feet, as I considered a reality I hadn't before.

That she hadn't gotten in that room with him. Admittedly, a tight fit. But it could have been done.

Why wouldn't she have?

I knew the answer immediately, though.

Because it was what I would have done as well.

Gotten her and Judah safe, then rushed out to divert the threat away from them.

But it was just Claire.

Against the man who'd tormented her for years.

And his men.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Was she hurt? Why, when they were gone, hadn't she run to comfort Judah?

My heart lodged even further up my throat until I felt like I was choking on it until, finally, I got to the top of the stairs.

And there she was.

Injured.

There were bruises starting to form on her cheek and jaw, and there was dried blood on her lips.

But alive.

She was alive.

"Claire," I whispered, seeing the wild animal look in her eyes as she raised the toilet tank lid, ready to go another round—or ten—if it was necessary to save her son.

At the sound of her name in my voice, though, all the fight fell out of her as the lid slipped from her hands and cracked on the floor at her feet.

Then she was turning and running into my room, into the closet, and grabbing Judah out of the space, crushing him to her chest as they both cried.

And, fuck, something in me cracked at the sight of them and their fear and their relief.

There was so fucking much to do, people to talk to, measures to take to make sure we were all safe.

But I couldn't focus on that.

Not with Claire and Judah so upset.

So I took a few precious moments to curl in behind them, wrapping them up, offering them some strength and comfort until, eventually, they both started to pull themselves back together.

I pulled Claire, holding Judah, onto her feet, my hand raising to her face, my thumb teasing across the bruise on her jaw that had darkened.

"I hit him back," she said, her lower lip trembling, but her chin thrusting up, proud of herself.

"Of course you did," I agreed, nodding. "You did whatever it took to protect him," I said, reaching for the back of Judah's neck, giving it a little rub. "Can I have a couple minutes to go talk to my family?" I asked, hearing their voices downstairs.

To that, Claire nodded.

"We're just going to sit here," she said, nodding out toward my bed.

"I won't be long," I promised, then turned to make my way out of the room, closing the door behind me, and making my way downstairs.

Several of the guys were standing in the kitchen.

The kitchen where a dinner Claire had clearly, painstakingly prepared, sat cold.

Steak and potatoes and green beans.

Fuck, if something warm didn't move across my chest at the idea of her cooking for me.

She'd had a night planned for us.

And that fuckhead ruined it.

"Are they okay?" Luca asked, drawing my attention away from the food.

"She went toe-to-toe with Warren," I told them, watching their faces wince in reaction. "She wanted to draw him away from where she had Judah stashed. She's… bruised. But she's okay. Physically, at least," I added, knowing that this shit wasn't over for her. She would relive it again and again.

Until this was over.

Until I put a bullet in that bastard's head.

And ended it once and for all.

"How's Wade?" I asked, trying to gauge the answer from their faces.

"With Lettie," Luca said. "She didn't give us any assurances, so… we just have to pray for the best."

Fuck.

Two men.

I was close to losing two men because of this mother fucker.

I'd be damned if I lost anyone else.

"Nino had an extra door in his garage," Milo said. "He's bringing it over until we can get you a new one."

"You can't stay here," Luca said, stating out loud what I knew from the moment I knew Claire and Judah were okay. "He won't stop coming for them."

"Yeah," I agreed, jaw so tight that my fucking teeth ached.

"You need to go to one of the safe houses," he declared, making me suck in a deep breath, releasing it with a sigh I felt down to my bones.

I wanted to hit the road.

I wanted to track down Warren, break the hands that he dared to put on Claire, then end him.

As much as I was entitled to my justice, I also knew that my top priority was to keep Claire and Judah safe. Even if that meant I had to step back from the mission to take down the Graves organization.

After all, it didn't matter if I was the one to put a bullet in his head, so long as someone did, so long as the threat was neutralized. Forever.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Which one?"

"I want you out of town," Luca told me. "As it is, I'm gonna take your ma and your sisters and lock ‘em up in the hotel safe house. It will cut down on how many guards we need for them, with the private elevator."

"Okay," I agreed, but didn't know how the fuck he thought he could get Smush to just… abandon all her clients out of the blue. "I'll sleep better knowing I don't have to worry about them."

"I'll see what Lucky wants to do. If he thinks the kids would like going to the hotel too, or if I need to stash them somewhere else."

"I'm not going to a fucking safe house," Milo said, making Luca's lips twitch a bit.

"I wasn't going to ask you to. I need as many men as possible still. I don't know how Warren is going to react to this now, knowing Judah is within reach. How soon he will come at us again."

"That depends on if Denny can talk sense into him or not," Claire said from behind me, making everyone turn to look at her. "Sorry," she said, wincing. "Judah needs something to eat."

"Of course," Luca said, waving toward the kitchen.

I watched the men's gazes move to Claire's face, taking in the damage Warren had done.

My gaze, though, slipped somewhere else, seeing something I'd missed before, when I'd been focused on her face as well.

A rip.

In her pants.

Like someone had grabbed and yanked them…

Fuck.

I waved toward the men, silently asking them to step away as Claire went to the stove, grabbing some of the cold dinner.

I moved up behind her, feeling her tense, then relax when she realized it was me.

Leaning down, voice low so no one else could hear, I murmured, "Angel, your pants are ripped."

It was a statement, but a question as well.

She tensed again, then relaxed with a deep sigh, turning so that her face brushed my chest, her gaze downcast.

"He… tried," she said.

"Okay," I said, pressing my hand into her hip, giving it a little squeeze. "Are you alright? Do you want to talk for a minute? Someone else could feed Judah."

"I'm… I'm okay," she said, turning to look at me fully. "We can talk later," she added, before going back to cutting up Judah's food, then sticking it in the microwave.

"Claire, this is my cousin, and boss, Luca," I said, as she turned to face everyone. "My brother, Milo," I went on, waving. "Dante, August, Massimo," I went on.

"Hate to have to meet you under these circumstances," Luca said, taking a few steps closer.

"Thanks for coming," she said, shrugging.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How much sway does Denny have with Warren?" he asked.

"It depends," Claire said. "Normally, on something that Warren isn't… worked up about, he has a lot of sway. I always kind of thought of him as the neck that turned Warren in whatever direction he wanted. But, like, today," she said, waving toward the stairs. "Denny had to physically drag Warren down the stairs when they knew you were coming."

"You don't think some time and space would have Warren calming down?"

"No. It think it will just piss him off more," she said as the microwave beeped.

She turned to grab the plate as I fetched a juice box from the fridge, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she said, giving me a small smile. "Can I ask… what now?"

"A safe house," I told her. "Luca is the only one who knows all the locations of them, so they're as safe as we can get, under these circumstances."

"A safe house," she said, voice tight. "So… I should pack?"

"Yeah," I said.

"When are we going?" she asked.

"As soon as possible," Luca told her. "Once the baby is fed and you are packed."

"Okay," she said, looking pained at the idea of having to leave this house. Which both saddened and oddly pleased me. Because she seemed to be starting to think of it as her home. Which I liked. Even if I hated to have to drag her away from it.

It wasn't forever, I reminded myself.

"Just me and Judah?" she asked, her sad eyes looking up at me.

"No. I'm coming with you," I told her.

"Really?" she asked, looking glassy-eyed again.

"Really. I'm not leaving your side from here on out," I assured her.

"Do you want me to pack for you too?" she asked.

"That'd be good, if you have the time," I said.

"Judah will think of it like a game," she said, giving me another small smile, then making her way out of the room.

The look on Luca's face, dark and tight, let me know he'd seen her pants too.

I shook my head at him, and watched as his shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Dante, tell me everything you know about Denny," Luca demanded.

The talk went on for another twenty minutes before Luca finally agreed I had to help Claire pack, because we needed to be on the road.

The Family couldn't take any next steps until we were all safe.

When I got upstairs, I found Judah sitting on the floor of the nursery, shoveling potatoes into his mouth with one hand and flipping the pages of one of his books with the other.

I nodded my head toward the stairs at my man who followed me up, making sure he stayed there, so Judah wouldn't get curious and fall down as I turned into my bedroom, finding my luggage on my bed, half full.

Claire herself was in my closet, shuffling through my shirts, trying to decide which ones to bring.

"Oh, hey, do you want me to pack casua—" she started, getting cut off as I reached for her, pulling her against me, and sealing my lips to hers.

She melted into me, her lips demanding more from mine as they slanted over hers again and again.

"Never been that fucking scared in my life," I admitted after, holding her tightly against me.

"Me either," she agreed. "But I knew you were coming, that you would save us," she said.

And, fuck, I was going to do everything in my goddamn power to make sure she never had to worry like that again.