Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lucas

When I walk into the study, the guys are all standing around, waiting, and I don’t waste any time.

“Yo, I need a sanction,” I say, not even bothering to shut the door.

Jackson, Christian, and Ash all glance at each other with alarm. We don’t call for sanctions often. It’s pretty fucking rare, in fact. We have a rule in the society that we can’t physically harm another member unless it’s in self-defense, or to protect another member—which is what happened upstairs with Gabriel.

But if I want to take this shit with Gabriel further—and I fucking do—then I have two options; a tribunal, in which case, if he’s found guilty of an offense, he could be kicked out of the Burning Crown. But a tribunal takes time to set up and involves both the Sacred Sons and the senior members. We make a judgment collectively.

My second option is a sanction, which is way more fucking attractive right now. It’s intended for urgent situations that require immediate action against a fellow member. The downside is that I need the other Sacred Sons to sign off on it.

It’s Christian who speaks first. “A sanction against who ?”

“Gabriel,” I say, the word clipped. I’m hoping they’ll just grant the sanction, and ask questions later, but I know better. They’ll be confused as fuck about why I want a sanction against my own cousin, and they’ll each have a litany of questions. This is why I don’t like involving them in decisions like this. I have to rein in too many fucking opinions. But I don’t really have a choice this time.

“ Gabriel? ” Christian asks, shocked. “What the fuck happened?”

“I’ll explain later,” I say, pacing.

Jackson steps forward. “Nah, man. This is insane. You’re going to explain now.”

“What the fuck is a sanction?” Ash asks arms crossed over his chest, looking lost. We all just stare at him, like shut the fuck up. He lifts his hands. “Never mind, I guess I’ll just, uh, use fuckin’ context clues.”

I shove a hand through my hair, my long stride eating up the ancient rug. “He attacked Wyn,” I bite out.

The more I think about what Gabriel did, the more pissed I become. In my mind’s eye, I can still see Gabriel on top of her, and the fucking bruises he left on her skin…

“The fuck?” Christian says.

“Hold up,” Jackson interrupts. “Just…fuckin’ start from the beginning. What happened?”

I push out a frustrated breath and tilt my head back. “Someone saw Gabriel attack Wyn on my balcony, and when I went up to see what the fuck was going on, I walked in on him assaulting her.” I look at them, lifting my hands. “That’s it. Got it? Satisfied?”

“So, what, you handled it, or…?” Jackson shakes his head.

“Of course, I fucking handled it,” I yell.

“Okay, then what’s the problem?” Jackson asks, leaning against the desk. I can already tell he’s done with this conversation. “Aren’t Wyn and Gabriel dating? This sounds like some domestic shit. Not sure why Gabriel needs to be sanctioned?”

“The shit with Wyn is only the beginning…” I storm over to the desk and yank the drawer open, pulling Gabriel’s necklace out—I’d stashed it here earlier—and I hold it up. “I found this at Gabriel’s mom’s place. Look familiar?”

Jackson takes the necklace from my hand and inspects it more closely. “This is exactly like the one August was wearing.” He glances up at the three of us. “You think Gabriel was initiated into Shadow and Ash?”

Christian takes the necklace and pushes out a breath. “Maybe we should pull Gabriel in here and get his side.”

I step up on Jackson, something dark flaring in my chest. “Get his side ?” I repeat slowly. Christian is at my side in seconds, his hand on my chest, holding me back. “I just told you what happened with Wyn. I just showed you the evidence that he’s already betrayed us. Now, give me the fucking sanction ,” I yell, split flying.

Jackson lifts his hands, and Christian pulls me away. “Dude, chill,” Christian says. “Let’s call a tribunal, and short this shit out.”

A tribunal. I shake my head. Un-fucking-believable.

“You know what, I’m done with this shit,” I say, pointing at each one of them. “You can talk amongst yourselves until you’re blue in the fucking face. I’m finding Gabriel.”

“I’m so fucking confused,” Ash says. “Are you saying Gabriel was initiated into Shadow and Ash?” He glances around the room at the other guys. “What the fuck am I missing?”

Yeah, he’s missing a fuck-ton of context. They all are. As far as anyone else is concerned, I was gutted when my cousin “died,” but it’s so much more complicated than that. It’s true that we were close. But in the last few months before he went missing, things had become difficult between us.

And now that he’s back, that same difficulty is flaring back to life, and threatening to consume everything I fucking care about.

Pushing a breath out, I turn on my heel and walk out of the room, and down the hall to the living room. I can feel the guys following me—either to back me up or make sure I don’t do too much damage. I’m not sure which.

The living room is packed, people dancing, drinking, “Welcome Home” decorations dangling from the wall, and balloons being tossed around the room. The music is so damn loud, I can’t hear my own thoughts.

I see Gabriel in the center of the room, dancing like nothing fucking happened. People surround him, cheering him on like he’s a fucking hero.

I wade through the crowd, and people step aside as I approach. Gabriel is turned away from me, so he doesn’t see me coming, and as soon as I get within arm’s length I grab him by the shirt collar, and pull him back.

He turns on me with a laugh but sobers the second he sees the seriousness on my face. The people surrounding us back away, giving us space. Gabriel reels back, but before he can say anything, my fist connects with his jaw, throwing him back.

“What the fuck? ” he yells, straightening, his hand moving to his jaw.

Music pulses around us as I square up to him, ready to throw another punch. He anticipates me this time and his fist catches my cheek.

My breath hitches as I square off with him, my heart pounding in my chest. The air is thick with tension, neither of us wanting to back down. Gabriel’s jaw is tight, knuckles white as he clenches his fists.

"You think you can lay your hands on my consort, then just walk away?" I bite out, stepping toward him. My voice drips with anger, a spike of adrenaline burning through my veins.

Without answering, he lunges, his fist flying at my face. I mostly dodge him, but his fist grazes my cheek. I stumble back, shaking it off, the heat of anger rising inside me.

My body moves on instinct, and I charge forward, aiming low. I catch him off guard, tackling him to the ground with a grunt. We hit the floor hard, his back slamming into the wood.

Rolling on top of him, I pin his arms down with my shins and throw several more punches. The crunch of bone under my knuckles feeds something inside me, and I grit my teeth as blood flies in all directions.

Several punches in, Christian and Jackson, haul me off Gabriel. As I’m forcibly pulled back, I see him rolling around on the floor, moaning, hands held to his face. He pulls one hand away and looks at it, blood coating his fingers. “You broke my fucking nose!”

Straightening, I pull myself free of Christian and Jackson, but my brother’s hand stays on my chest—a reminder that he’ll step in again if he has to.

The music has been cut, and Gabriel is still on the floor, struggling to get up. “Release her,” I bark at him.

He looks at me, hand held to his nose. But he says nothing.

“ Fucking release her,” I yell. “Now.”

There’s probably some kind of stipulation in the bylaws that forbids a member from being forced to release his chick, but I’m beyond that level of giving a fuck. He’s giving her up now, publicly.

Gabriel laughs and shakes his head, like I’ve lost my mind, and he’s humoring me. “I’ve already said you can have her, Cuz. She’s yours.”

That’s right. She’s mine.

“Touch her again and I swear to God , I’ll haul your ass down to the fucking basement.” Gasps ripple through the room, and I turn on my heel to leave. “Clean this shit up,” I call out. “The party is over.”

Jackson and Christian follow me into the hallway.

“Yo, dude,” Christian says, placing a hand on my shoulder to stop me. “What the fuck is going on?”

I rake a hand over my face, the need for violence still twisting through me. I’d hoped that shoving my fist into Gabriel’s face would satisfy the rage, but the adrenaline pumping through my veins only makes me even more bloodthirsty.

“Gabriel—”

Christian stops me. “Yeah, I know what you said about Gabriel. But, dude, this isn’t like you. You’ve always been so close to him, and now, what, one incident, and he’s your mortal-fucking-enemy?”

Adjusting my stance, I glance down at the floor. I know this doesn’t make sense to Christian, or the others, but Wyn does something to me—and how am I supposed to explain that to my brother, when I don’t even understand it myself?

“When he attacked Wyn—” I shake my head and look at Christian. “—I’d never seen that side of him. And the fact that he thinks he can do something like that to my consort?—”

People are starting to file out of the house now, brushing past us in the hallway, lingering glances being cast in my direction.

Christian slaps me on the shoulder. “Yeah, I get it. Listen, maybe you should, uh, go upstairs and chill for the rest of the night. We’ll handle the clean up.”

I push out a breath, my mind wandering to Wyn waiting in my bedroom. I ich to get back to her, but fuck, I can’t help but wonder if her being in my orbit is good for either of us. This obsession I have for her has forced me to do some pretty horrific things. Things she’d never forgive me for if she ever found out.

Fuck.

Would it be better for me to walk away now before any real lasting damage has been done?

I nod at my brother. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.”

As I turn to walk away, he says, “Oh, wait, hold up. I’ve been meaning to tell you...”

I tilt my head back. He hasn’t said anything yet, but I already know it isn’t good. I can just tell. Call it twin intuition. “Fuck, what now?”

He leans in, so the people passing us in the wide hallway can’t hear what he’s saying. “We, uh, got a message from Sin.”

I blink at him. He says that name like I should know who the fuck that is. “Who the fuck is Sin?”

Christian pulls back and makes a face. “Do you have dementia or something?” He pats down his pockets and pretends to glance around. “We need to find a pen, so your ass can draw a clock. And I’m warning you now, if it looks like Picasso drew it, we’re getting your head examined.”

I roll my eyes. “Shut the fuck up, and tell me why I should give a fuck about that name…”

Christian rolls his eyes back at me. “Sin Savano? Shadow and Ash, ring a bell?”

“Oh, right. What does he want?”

“Well, uh, he’s pretty pissed about what we did to August, and he demands reparation.”

“Reparation,” I repeat with a laugh. “His bitch, August, spoke against me in a fucking police report. He got what was coming to him. He’s lucky I didn’t throw him off a fucking cliff…”

“Yeah, I know,” Christian says in a low tone—again, so people don’t overhear. He angles his body, so his back is to anyone passing by. “But, uh, he says his guy wasn’t lying when he made that report, so we had no right to act.”

Fucking-A. This is literally the last thing I need right now.

“So, what do they want?” I ask, eager to get them off my back. If they want money, then whatever. I’m willing to buy them off just to shut them the fuck up. I’ll destroy their society later when I have the fucking bandwidth to deal with it.

“He wants your consort,” he says bluntly.

With everyone leaving and saying goodbye and shit, I couldn’t really hear him. I misheard, clearly. “He wants what?”

Christian shifts on his feet. “Your consort.”

Nah, I did not just hear that. “He wants Wyn?”

My hands ball into fists, stretching my raw, bloody knuckles. There are two problems with Sin saying Wyn’s name. One, it means he knows about her, and that fucking bothers me. Two, they have the audacity to assume I’m going to just, what, hand her over to them?

I flex my hands, flaring my fingers. I’m not going to let these assholes get a rise out of me. That’s their plan, I’m sure. Otherwise, why demand my consort as payment? They know it’d humiliate me, and that’s what they want—to chip away at my power.

I push a finger into my brother’s chest. “Tell him I want a meeting.”

Christian’s eyes go wide. “Come one, Lucas. You’re not going to hand over Wyn?—”

“Of course not,” I say. “But I want him to think I’m considering it…”

“Okay, so if I get the meeting, then what?”

I take a step back, moving toward the front door. “You let me worry about that…”