When we enter the room, the atmosphere is tense, everybody seemed on edge waiting for shit to go down. Suddenly I think that having Kella here is a mistake. Everything in me is screaming to protect her, to get her out of here. It’s so hard to remember, looking at her beauty, that there is a monster inside. It also doesn’t help that she looks stunning tonight. That little black dress couldn’t be any sexier. I lost control when she was so close to me upstairs. Something about her is a temptation I’m struggling to resist. I should regret putting my hands, my mouth, on her but I can’t bring myself to. I only wish we were going on a proper date, not a pretend one surrounded by my enemies. I shake my head to get rid of useless thoughts. I don’t do romance, even if I want to momentarily. That’s a luxury guys like me don’t get.

I approach the tables holding my head high. Fuck ’em. Walking the line between arrogance and confidence is a well-earned skill. Nothing can be mistaken for weakness tonight. The decision was made earlier that Kella would trail a few steps behind me. If I keep her at my side throughout the negotiation part of the meeting she might seem too important to me. Abramo may be here to negotiate peace, but he’s also here to take notes and report back. Most of the talking tonight won’t be done with our mouths, but rather through a complicated dance of body language.

The men he brought with him are sitting at the main table, a few looking bored, most of them are constantly scanning the room. I don’t blame them, they’ve come back into the Wolfe’s den. If he doesn’t want peace, Tony is an overconfident fool sending so few men back here. The last meeting ending in bullets and blood, and we were on top. If he wants a repeat tonight, the results will be the same but with one difference: I won’t let any of his men walk out alive this time.

I’ve never met him before, but it isn’t hard to figure out which one is Abramo. He’s sitting in one of the chairs at the head of the table. He’s relaxed like he doesn’t have a care in the world. If I was Tony I would cut this one off, it isn’t hard to see he’s imagining himself on the throne. Someone like that is a danger to you and your entire outfit. The other men from New York are watching him, their surroundings, and he’s watching no one. The man may have ambitions but he’s a fool and a fucking waste of my time. If I had doubts about whether Tony was serious about peace or not, they’re settled now.

“Abramo, how are you?” I make a point of not extending my hand when I greet him.

He raises an eyebrow at me, refusing to stand up as a sign of respect. I would be offended but I earned that one. Then he opens his mouth. “Is Jake still working for you?”

This sets alarms off in my head. I wrack my brain, trying to remember a reason he could have something personal against Jake. Nothing is coming to mind, but Jake has been around a while, and he’s not exactly known for how nice he is.

“Yes, why?” I keep my voice even, my posture stays the same, my hands resting on the back of my chair. I don’t want my body to say what my mouth isn’t. I take a moment to be grateful he didn’t wait for me to sit down. I need to be on my feet if this is going in the direction I think it is. Jake, as a topic or as a person, is a ticking time bomb in the best of situations.

Abramo’s eyes fill with fury, and for just a moment I hang my head, weary with the reality of the situation. There will be no meeting tonight. They’re here to pick a fight, and they’re going to get it. There is nothing else I can do.

“Finocchio!” Abramo yells before spitting on the ground near my feet. “You let a faggot work for you?” Spittle flies from his mouth as he continues to scream. “How can he get anything done? He’s probably too busy trying to blow the guys you send him to off.”

My fist slams down on the table before my mind even fully registers my rage. I open my mouth to tell him to get the fuck out, but a scuffling sound comes from behind me. I start to turn my head to figure out what it is but never get the chance. Declan flies across the table, sending glass and cutlery flying as he grabs Abramo’s throat, sending them both to the floor. All six feet and five inches of Declan lands on top of his opponent. Abramo barely has time to grunt from the impact before Declan’s large fist pounds into his face.

“Don’t you ever fucking talk about my brother!” Declan roars, his fist hitting Abramo with a sickening cracking sound. Blood spurts from his nose, spraying Abramo and Declan’s chests.

Abramo gives a pathetic cough, muttering in Italian. Declan sits back for a second and I think for a moment he’s done with his attack, but Abramo says something else. Something in English I can’t quite hear, but Declan did. He responds by lunging forward and wrapping his hands around Abramo’s throat.

It takes a lot of effort to strangle someone with your bare hands. I know this from far too much personal experience. It’s not like the movies where you hold someone’s throat for thirty seconds. There are few men strong enough to do it. Declan is one of those men judging from the flex of his biceps and the deep shade of red covering Abramo’s face. I realize I may have underestimated Jake’s calmer, usually more rational brother. I snap out of my thoughts and shove the chair out of my way, marching toward them.

“Get the fuck off him!” I yell at Declan.

“Don’t work for you,” Declan grits out through his clenched teeth. His hands squeezing tighter. I can tell he’s using everything he has to choke the life out of Abramo and it’s working.

Abramo’s legs and arms are flailing but Declan’s just too big, his arms too long, for Abramo to shake him off. Abramo’s resistance is nothing but an empty gesture. He starts to claw at Declan’s arms, his blunt nails leaving small, red stripes where they break the skin. Declan gives no reaction to the scratching at all, his face tense.

“DECLAN GET THE FUCK OFF HIM!” I shout again, we don’t have time to argue. Abramo is dying in front of my eyes.

“Dec, please babe.” Bree appears at my side, giving Declan and me a pleading look.

I use my left arm to push her behind me. “You guys planning on doing any fucking thing about this?” I hiss at my crew. All of them are unmoving, standing in a semi-circle around the scene. Except for Jake who is trying to struggle out of Greg’s arms and I know he doesn’t want to stop Declan. If Greg hadn’t caught Jake, Abramo would probably already be dead, Jake has never had the patience to kill a man slowly.

“Nah, I think he’s good,” Dave spits out.

“Fuck.” I push Bree farther behind me, making her stumble toward the men, and make my way toward Declan’s back.

As I get closer, I hesitate. It’s been a while since I’ve fought someone hand-to-hand. At least someone that I thought had an actual chance of beating me. Declan is younger, stronger, and faster. Not to mention the three inches and at least fifty pounds he has on me. But I’m wise, battle-hardened. Experience is always the best bet. Before I can launch myself fully at him, Kella flies past me. I can see she’s lost those sexy as sin heels, her little feet pounding the scuffed wooden floor at full speed. She latches on to Declan’s back, both Abramo and Declan making a noise of protest from the added weight. He refuses to release his grip on Abramo’s throat, leaving the back of his neck exposed. I watch Kella’s fingers grip the nerve on his shoulder. Declan grunts in pain, but he doesn’t let go. She shoots me a panicked look before latching her free hand on the other side. Declan yelps and throws himself back, releasing his grip, and sending Kella flying toward my feet. I don’t quite manage to catch her, but I help her back to her feet quickly.

Bree runs and slides to her knees by Declan. After wrapping her arms around him and whispering in his ear, she looks at me and nods. Declan slowly rises to his feet, kicking a choking and sputtering Abramo in the ribs before he starts to walk away. He wraps an arm around Bree, who is still hanging from his neck, to help support her weight.

Thank God that’s over. I’ve never been so fucking wrong about someone before. I always thought Declan was a gentle giant, now I know better. And fuck if it doesn’t make the sick bastard inside me happy my daughter has him.