Page 127 of Creed

Sophie has been on edge since we learned that Pastor Salome attacked Ollie. Add to it that we’ll come face-to-face with her uncle, and her angst is palpable. Once this is over, I vow to keep her life as happy and stress-free as possible.

Andro stands at the bar, glances at Sophie, then holds up a bottle of red wine, and I nod. He pours her a glass and pours us a glass of bourbon.

“Minnie, why don’t you sit and relax?” Andro comes around the bar and hands her the glass of wine. “The latest update about Ollie sounded promising.”

Ollie’s been stable for the past few hours in the ICU. When we landed in San Diego, I knew that Sophie desperately wanted to go to the hospital even though she hadn’t asked—she knew I’d have to say no. Len has organized another team to stay at the hospital, though, to protect Ollie in case Salome or Sophie’s father tries to hurt her again.

She gives Andro a small smile of thanks, accepting the glass of wine, but doesn’t say anything. Since her unraveling breakdown in our bedroom at the estate, she’s been excessively quiet. Almost the only time she spoke today was when she called Sylvie for her birthday. Crispin had secured the connection, but she had kept it short. The conversation with Sylvie and herabuelahad been in rapid-fire Spanish, but Sophie assured me they didn’t seem aware of what was happening.

I wrap my arm around Sophie’s waist, pulling her tight to my side, and some of her tension eases.

She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip again. I pull it free and rub my thumb over the raw flesh. “I’m nervous,” she whispers.

Would Antonio be angry, judge her, not accept her choice? Would he be livid with me?

I don’t want to lie or insult her by telling her it will all be okay and that she has nothing to worry about. Because, in truth, I don’t know how this will go.

When it comes down to it, though, I don’t give a shit. That’s on Sophie’s family if they can’t accept her choice. I don’t care if they judge or hate me because my focus and goal is to love, cherish, and worship my angel, myqueen,for the rest of my days. But that doesn’t mean I want her to hurt in any way. And her family has the potential to hurt her, and not just her cunt of a father.

My jaw clenches thinking of him, and I force myself to relax. I lean down and kiss the top of Sophie's head while my fingers draw a lazy circle on her hip.

She melts into me, more of her tension dissipating, but when we hear the secret door click, she stiffens again. The door swings open into the room, and I pull Sophie tighter to my side as four people enter.

Tag enters first. Like me, he’s tall, broad, and muscular, and his hard, alert eyes scan the room for threats. Next comes Severyn Andrews herself. Her eyes scan, too, like she’s assessing for threats. Both Tag and Severyn’s eyes lock on us. Tag may play for the good guys, but there’s a darkness in his eyes, warning me that even without weapons, the man is as lethal as my mafia brothers.

The last two men to come in are Antonio and Miguel. Miguel stops when he sees Sophie tucked in close to me, narrowing his eyes. Antonio doesn’t stop, though; his brown eyes, more like dark chocolate compared to Sophie’s, are filled with fire and loathing.

“You bastard!” he roars at me.

Andro goes to step in front of me and Sophie, but I stop him. Tag grips Antonio’s arm and speaks quietly into his ear.

“Antonio,” I say calmly, curling my fingers around Sophie’s hip in the dark pants she wears that hug her curvy frame, and his eyes flare with anger at my possessive hold. His protectiveness of Sophie is commendable, but I’m not letting her go. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Hijo de puta,”he seethes. Motherfucker. I knowsomeSpanish.

“Tio.”Sophie’s voice is firm and calm. “Creed is not the enemy here.”

Antonio’s eyes, tumultuous with emotion—anger predominantly mixed with fear that I may hurt her—sweep over her, looking for signs of harm. “No sabes lo que estás diciendo.”

Her chin lifts, and she places her hand over mine, resting on her hip. “Idoknow what I’m saying, Antonio. And speak English.”

“Firefly…” He looks pained, but when he turns back to me, his anger is back.

Sophie steps from me to move closer to him.

He eyes the glass of red wine in her hand. “You’re not of age.”

She sips it almost defiantly, and I catch Severyn’s lips twitch.

Outside of being Antonio’s friend, I’m not sure of the songwriter-musician's role here. The way Tag shifts closer toher, looks at her, tells me he isn’t only here to protect her as a member of her security team, but there’s something deeper.

Game recognizes game; like recognizes like.

I’m in love with Sophie and will protect her with my life if needed, and I recognize the same in Tag when he glances at Severyn. I file that away in case I need it as leverage.

“Antonio…” Sophie presses her lips together. “After what I tell you, me sipping wine in a nightclub will be the least of our worries.”

His face softens. “Firefly.”

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