“Where’s the whiskey?” I hastily speak to cover my tracks, “I need a fucking drink.”
“Wait did you say, Willow?” Malakai interrupts, stepping into my path toward the decanter on his desk.
“You know we hang out,” I shrug as if it’s no big deal.
“Is she why you were late?” He pries.
I trust my guys with my life, I know if I tell them what has happened with Willow it wouldn’t even come as a surprise to them, but for whatever reason I can’t bring myself to do that. Inherently I know she’s as safe with them as she is with me, but it feels as if I’ll be dangling her over the flames, tempting them to take a bite if anyone knew I’d finally given in to my desires and taken something I shouldn’t have.
“I fell asleep,” I lie, “Won’t happen again.”
None of them call me on my bullshit and in the next minute I have whiskey in hand and sit back on the couch, ready to be brought up to speed on the council and its newest members.
Chapter Fourteen
“He understands,” Killian continues, leaning in to rest his elbows against his knees.
“We should have killed him,” I growl, this knot of unease only tightening in my stomach. I fucking hate loose ends and that’s what Christian Stewart is. A loose fucking end. A man will go to many lengths in the name of revenge.
“We are moving on from past times, Sebastian,” Malakai sighs. “It’s what my father would have done but we cannot keep weighing men against the actions of their parents.”
“It’s hardly that,” I snap, “Do we not have enough fucking enemies?”
“Enemies that are hardly worth worrying about,” Malakai leans back in his chair, “The message has been delivered, we have him where we want him. He won’t step out of line, not with the risk of him falling with us.”
I scoff, “I will respectfully disagree here, Kai.”
“It doesn’t really matter if you disagree, Bast,” Malakai sighs, and I see it then, the tiredness of it all. “This is my organization, and my word is final. The boy can live for as long as he keeps his mouth shut and stays out of our way.”
He saysboylike Christian isn’t a full-grown fucking man bent on vengeance. The threat of his own life is nothing in comparison to the hate that fuels his fire.
“You will do as I command, Sebastian,” Malakai continues, “There’s been enough fucking death in the past month that I will not add one more to the tally. Christian is released from this organization and all ties are cut, including any financial aid we were providing. He is free. Freedom is often enough to let whatever grudges they may have go.”
“I will cut in,” Killian interrupts, “He agreed to keep his mouth shut but did advise that if he were to see Sebastian, he threatened to kill him.”
At that, I laugh, “He can fucking try.”
“That is the only exception,” Malakai stands from his desk as he checks the watch on his wrist, “You can eradicate the threat but only if he truly poses one.”
“So, a threat on my life is not enough to end him now?” I challenge.
Malakai grins, “A threat on your life?”
My nostrils flare.
“That’s what I thought, now let’s go, the council meeting starts in ten.”
I only feel more fucking irate after the council meeting is done. Not because of the meeting itself since that went fine and it looks like Malakai is finally back in control, but because of fucking Christian.
I can’t help but feel like it’s a mistake. But perhaps it’s because I’m the target. Granted, I have plenty of enemies but they’re because of the standing I hold and there’s likely several men and women out there who would gladly end me for the lives I’ve stolen from them but this one, this one is different.
And I can’t fucking figure out why.
So, I don’t go back to Willow when the meeting is over. Instead, I head downtown, right to the center where the streets are packed with people, most of them drunk and stumbling through the rain that started at some point this evening while we were locked away in that stuffy room.
I head to the club on the corner, where the line to enter stretches around the side of the building, the crowd to get in loud and boisterous, soaked through.The rope for the door is unhooked the moment the bouncer sees me, and I step inside, out of the rain as the smell of cigarette smoke and stale alcohol shoves up my nose. The music vibrates the walls, something erotic, with a slow sensual beat that only gets louder the further I get in. The hall opens up into a large open space where women dance on raised stages, dressed in little to nothing while bills are thrown onto the sticky floor at their feet.
But I don’t stop, not as I shove through the crowd toward the bar and the door at the side.
