Page 42 of Bride By Initiation

They nod and move toward the closet, knowing you don't break the rules. You obey whoever has a higher status than you. Right now, that's Brax and me. As far as Mikhail is concerned, if you come into O'Malley territory, you don't get to pick and choose your role. It's the same if we step into the Ivanov garage, which is their version of our warehouse.

Brax shakes his head at me. "Young lads. They're so naive, aren't they? Thinking they don't have to put in the time…"

"Agreed. I'm going to go shower. You two know what to do," I add, then exit the room as they grumble behind me.

Brax follows, and we go into the locker room. We remove our pants and shirts, disposing of them in the incineration can. We shower and grab new clothes off the shelf.

As I'm putting my head through the T-shirt, my phone buzzes. I pull the cotton over my abs and then grab my phone.

The hairs on my neck rise. There's an address on the lower East side of Gary, Indiana. It's a town about forty-five minutes from Chicago, known for its abandoned factories and high crime rate.

Another message comes in right after it.

Unknown: Be there in an hour, and don't be late.

I glance at the time on my phone and curse. It doesn't leave me a lot of time.

I don't have to go. Who are these people to dictate to me what I need to do?

If I don't show up, I won't get any closer to the truth about my father.

My phone buzzes again.

Unknown: Come alone.

Brax interrupts my thoughts. "Which club are we hitting tonight?"

My chest tightens. I glance at him. "Sorry, I can't go."

"What are you talking about? We always go celebrate after we take our enemy out."

"Sorry, I can't. I have somewhere I need to be."

"Why? Where are you going?" he asks.

"It's personal," I reply, then move toward the other side of the warehouse.

Brax follows on my heels. "Sean, stop bullshitting me. What's going on with you?"

"Nothing. I've just got something I've got to do." I jump in one of the dated Jeeps from the early 2000s.

The fleet of cars Liam stocks in the warehouse is an assortment of vehicles. Some are nice and fancy, like the Range Rovers. Some are old and beat-up but have engines that can outrun a sports car. Since Gary tends to be rough, flashy isn't a great option.

I open the garage door and leave. I glance at the rearview mirror. Brax stands outside with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

I feel bad. I hate keeping secrets from him, but I don't know what to tell him. I don't know what I'm stepping into anyway.

It's early evening, and the sun is starting to set. I follow the directions on my phone and then pull up to a warehouse. There's no glass on the windows and no other cars in sight.

My heart races. The last thing I want to do is put myself in an unknown situation, but that's exactly what I've done.

I reply to the text.

Me: I'm here.

Unknown: Walk in the door.

I should insist they tell me what this is all about, but I know they won't. And I assume it's about whatever fight they referred to in the text that was sent weeks ago. So I grab the gun from the glove compartment just as another text comes in.

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