Page 30 of Claimed By Daddy

Enzo’s entire body tightens, his grip on my hand practically crushing me. I glance at him and find his eyes narrowed and his jaw trembling with rage. He’s seconds from unloading on Sargsyan.

“We’re not fucking paying,” Enzo grits. “Cillian and Nikolai were quite clear when they visited you. Your deal with our fathers isn’t happening. And that means we don’t owe you a fucking thing.”

Sargsyan tsks. “I disagree. I need to be compensated for wasting my time and the money I’m going to lose by not filling your city with my girls. And I think that little fiery bush seems like it’s going to be a remarkable payment. See you soon, spitfire.”

Enzo ends the call without another word, and my knees buckle. I hit the floor before I know I’m falling, and the firm hardwood floor slaps against my skin. Enzo is there in an instant, down beside me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and letting me lean into his firm chest. “No one is getting you,” he murmurs, voice fierce and low. “I—we—will protect you. Me. Cillian. Nik. We’ve got you. You’ve also got Gunnar, Damon, Jagger, and Hawk. We have you absolutely surrounded. You’re safe.”But I don’t feel safe.

Cillian rounds the kitchen island, his face hollowed out, pain and rage burning behind his eyes. He crouches beside me and pries me gently from Enzo’s arms. “I promise you,” he whispers, holding me close to him. “They will never get you. We did things, deplorable fucking things to make sure of it. That won’t be for nothing.”

I nod, but I don’t believe him. Not really. Because the world we live in doesn’t run on promises—it runs on blood.

Cillian and Enzo both help me to my feet—looking at me like I’m a china doll. Turning my back on them, my legs still unsteady beneath me, I flip the burners of the stove back on. “Eavan,” Cillian exhales. “What are you doing?”

“Finishing dinner,” I answer matter-of-factly. “We all still need to eat.” And I need to do something—anything. Something to keep me busy so I don’t scream or fall apart again. He watches me, but he doesn’t argue. None of them do.

“Okay.” Cillian gently squeezes my shoulder before leaving me to the simmering sauce on the stovetop.

Enzo stays in the kitchen with me, but the laughter and warmth of us cooking together have gone. “He’s actually going to come for me, isn’t he?” I ask softly, my gaze fixated on the pot I’m stirring.

“Yes.” Enzo’s answer is straight and honest.I wish he had lied. “I won’t let him touch you. I swear it, Eavan. I will burn this city down before I let him take you.”

The sauce bubbles over slightly, but I don’t even flinch. I merely stir a little faster to keep it from sticking to the bottom of the pot. “Do you think he knows about us?” I ask.

“Sargsyan?” Enzo inquires with a knowing look, trying—and failing—to lighten the mood. “No, princess. I don’t think your brother knows, but I do think his gut is starting to figure things out. We’ve managed to keep it a secret this long.”

“Barely,” I mutter. “When you kissed me in the hallway yesterday, we werethis closeto getting caught.”

“Worth it,” he retorts without hesitation.

I glance over my shoulder and meet his eyes. There’s something in them that takes my breath away—not just want, but certainty. And for a moment, just a sliver of time, I forget about Sargsyan.

“Where the hell have you been?” Cillian’s voice cuts through the quiet apartment the moment I walk inside. I left mid-afternoon, and in hindsight, I probably should’ve at least lied to someone about where I was going. Walking toward his angered voice, I find him at the island—arms crossed, brows furrowed, and pursed lips.

Shit… He knows.

Footsteps echo on the hardwood floor behind me, and Nikolai unknowingly saves me from Cillian’s inquisition. “We’ve got a problem.” Nikolai steps between us, phone in hand, frustration carved into his already hard features. “There are grumblings happening among the ranks that we need to deal with.”

Cillian drags his hand through his hair, mussing it. “Fucking fantastic,” he grumbles sarcastically. “Let me guess, Fitzpatrick?”

“Fitzpatrick, Montano, Vasiliev, and a few others,” Nikolai corrects. “The irony… They’ve been working together and stirring the pot since our meeting, calling our three-family merger”—he pauses to air quote—“unstable.”

“They’re testing us. Seeing how far they can go before we react,” I opine.

“Then I guess we fucking show them.” Nikolai smirks, the sudden glimmer in his eye showing that he is all too eager to tend to this problem. “They’re meeting in a few hours.”

“Sounds like we all have a meeting to get to,” Cillian grouses, fists clenched at his sides. The ire in his eyes has only grown with Nikolai’s news, and he looks like a man on the verge of snapping.

I glance toward the stairs, thinking about my princess who was resting in bed when I slipped out of the apartment earlier. “What about Sargsyan?”

“Gunnar has a tight perimeter set up. No one is getting into the lobby without them knowing about it,” Nikolai informs us. “Between the four of themandneeding a passcode to bring the elevator anywhere near our floor, no one is getting up here.” The information does little to calm my unease. I know how fucking determined the three of us are. Four well-trained armed guards wouldn’t do shit to keep me from something I wanted.

“The three of us. We have to go,” Cillian grumbles. “We have to show that we’re unified and strong—that we will not stand for anyone stepping out against us.”

Nik’s gaze flicks between us. “If killing our fathers wasn’t enough of a statement, we’ll have to give them what they’re asking for.”

Cillian nods in agreement. “I’m going to let Eavan know we’re heading out in a bit and get ready.”

Nikolai glances at me as Cillian walks up the spiral staircase. “You need to get your head straight before we walk into that meeting.”

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