He isn’t what I expected him to be, and that only makes this decision feel all the harder to make.
Wyatt still doesn’t say anything as he reaches the gate, not needing to let his intentions be known before it swings open without hesitation. With a tight jaw, he wheels up the driveway, eventually throwing the car into park before turning it off.
With a slow breath, he glances at me, searching my face. “You okay?”
I hesitate, feeling both the traces of my troubled thoughts and a weird kind of anticipation for what’s to come. “I don’t know yet.”
He just nods, as if he understands completely, then he unbuckles himself and props the door open. “Come on then…let’s get this over with.”
The oddly solemn air between us feels thicker than anticipated, but I get out with him, eventually feeling as his hand lingers at the small of my back, more like an instinct by now. It’s grounding and slightly possessive, and something in me doesn’t hate it.
The walk towards the front of the house feels long, but as I gain momentum, letting the reality sink in, I feel myself walking faster.
Everything explodes the second we step inside.
Figures surround us at once, accompanied by the clicking of safeties being pulled. Several pistols point in Wyatt’s direction, forcing his hands up at once, eyes widening by a touch. The furious figures of my brothers fill my awareness.
Roman, Mikhail, Sergey, Ivan, and Nikolai…the very faces I used to rarely go a day without seeing.
The thought alone makes the corners of my eyes burn, but I hardly have the chance to dwell on it.
“Get the fuck away from her,” Roman snaps, gaze sharp enough to kill.
Mikhail moves fast, using a hand to pull me towards him, putting immediate space between Wyatt and me without hesitation. The moment I’m out of reach, his grip on me tightens as he wraps both arms around me.
Despite the familiar comfort of his presence, my pulse roars in my ears.
Everything goes perfectly still, and Wyatt doesn’t move a muscle. He doesn’t even flinch despite the many guns he’s forced to stare down, absolutely cornered and in the worst possible position. The very thing he’s been trying to avoid.
“It’s about goddamn time,” Mikhail murmurs, cheek brushing against the top of my head briefly before he looks down at me, expression both serious and flooding with relief.
My heart races, caught between so many emotions at once.
“Elena,” Roman says, cutting through the quiet. His eyes are already on me. “Come here.”
As Mikhail lets me go, I step forward, and Roman’s hand finds my shoulder as he guides me closer. The former focuses on aiming at Wyatt.
“Are you hurt?” Roman asks, expression softening noticeably as he lowers his pistol and puts a caring hand against my cheek. “Did he hurt you?”
My chest clenches and aches at the familiar softness he has always used with me, like I’m the family jewel that needs protecting. Tears spring to my eyes before I can stop them, but a smile. “No, he didn’t…I’m fine.”
He inspects me closely, searching for any sort of lie, then his thumb brushes over my cheekbone. But as tender as the moment is, it isn’t the time. With a decisive breath, he nods and keeps me close before looking back at the main event.
“You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” Mikhail mutters, gaze lethal on Wyatt.
Finally, he speaks, keeping his hands up. “I didn’t come here to fight.”
“They never do,” Nikolai mutters, giving him a look that can only be followed up with violence. Even if I never witness the gruesome parts of their business, I know that hardened expression of his comes with his hands-on work.
“We’ve heard rumours of an up-and-comer gaining more traction around here. Covert operations… establishing businesses and moving money without being seen. The Vegas Ghost, they say,” Roman begins, tone unwavering. “That’s you, isn’t it?”
Wyatt exhales through his nose, murmuring sardonically, “The nickname really stuck, huh?”
“Then I guess we have our answer. We didn’t know it was you.”
“That was the point.”
“Apparently,” Roman grits as the tension only thickens.
