Page 85 of Bound By Flames
“You must be starving. Let’s all go to the dining room. Come on, chop chop, Mia.” her mother claps her hand twice before looking from head to toe at my woman and wincing at the sight.
The fuck?
Mia glances at me with an apologetic smile. I nod back.
It’s okay, everything’s okay.
I got ya.
I don’t follow her right away. “A word,” I call on her father. It’s not a question. He narrows his eyes at me, and if I wasn't such a fucking paranoid bastard, I would bet he’s thinking about the nearest weapon to kill me if things go south. That’s funny ‘cause I’d already be covered in his blood by the time he even tries to end me. That guy’s too fat to be a fighter. He just sends men to do the dirty work. He doesn’t know about digging graves in the woods, chopping body parts, or conducting interrogations that end up in bloodbaths.
The man wears white shirts, for fuck’s sake. That says it all.
Blood’s too fucking hard to erase from white shirts, hence why I only have black ones. Gotta be practical.
“Sure, in my office.” He motions his hand to the corridor behind the stairs. Once we reach the room, he glances over his shoulder.
“Cigars?” he offers.
I nod as I watch him circle his wide wooden desk, open a drawer with a key, and take a wooden box out. Lifting it toward me, I take one and lit it up with my lighter. I’m not a smoker, but once in a while, I like to indulge in it.
“So,” he clears his throat and sits in his large leather chair, leaning back without a care in the world, “what brings you here?”
“Family?” I suggest, with a tone colder than ice.
Did he forget he had another daughter?
He points to the chair in front of him, but I’m not the kind to obey that kind of man, so I stand, towering over him, and liking the way his body looks way smaller as I look down on him. His jaw ticks, the realization hitting him that he shouldn't have sat.
Don’t you worry, O’brian. Mind games are my specialty, and I never play fair with them.
“Oh yes, family, right. Well, we are family now. How silly of me to forget it.” Shaking his head, his mouth closes in a straight line. “Well, it’s really nice of you to—”
“Are you still planning on marrying Kiara to the Italian?” I say blankly, standing in front of him, cigar in hand, the desk as our only barrier.
O’brian arches a brow, settling into his oversized leather chair like a king on his throne. But real power doesn’t need thrones—doesn’t need fancy suits or grand gestures.
Power stands tall, even in the dirt.
“What I’m planning to do or not, Ares, isn’t your business.” He smirks, eyes narrowing. He leans back like he’s got the upper hand, but I see right through him. Small men hide behind their wealth, their power, their deals. He thinks he’s playing a game with me. But he doesn’t know that I don’t play.
I may be in his city, but he’s on my territory—where power isn't defined by bullets or brute force. Here, the battlefield is in the mind, where I win every time. It's not about pulling a trigger, it's about pulling strings, digging into insecurities, exposing fears. I don’t need to shout or swing to win. He’s already losing, just doesn’t know it yet. The moment he thinks he’s got the upper hand, I’m already ten steps ahead, ready to tear him down from the inside out.
I lean in, calm, controlled, but with an edge sharp as a knife.
“Let me make this clear,” I start, taking a drag of the cigar, letting the silence weigh heavy between us, taking my time ‘cause that’s what freaks people out most of the time.
“You marry Kiara off to that old bastard, and there’ll be consequences. Not for her, not for me...but for you.” I exhale the smoke, watching him squirm under my gaze, his smirk faltering. He’s been in my basement. He knows how things work. Well, I bet his knee remembers, it did take me quite a significantamount of time to pierce the bones with the electric drill last time.
“You can’t threaten me, Ares. We’re family now,” he rasps with bitterness.
“Family?” I tap the cigar to let the ashes fall on his desk, not giving a fuck about his precious table. “Nah, Mia’s my family.” I nod, not even bothered to admit it ‘cause that’s the fucking truth. “And you know what I discovered since you gave me your little girl?” I smirk while his smile fades.
“There’s no limit to what I can do to protect her and the folks she cares about. None.” Crushing the cigar on the wood, leaving a small crevice on the sleek surface, the white smoke disappearing between us. “You wanna keep breathing, walking in the street without looking over your shoulder? Then you end this.” I lean forward, my voice low, deliberate. “I don’t make threats. I make promises.”
He’s quiet now, the smirk long gone, replaced by a flicker of fear. And he nods like a fucking weak man, not even trying to fight back.
Good.
