𝟑𝟖. ✭ 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐘 ✭

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I hold the phone away from me, looking at it in an incredulous rage, "did he just— just fucking hang up on me?" My grip tightens on the device wanting nothing more than to crush it in my grasp. Everything in me longs to throw it on the floor and stomp it until there's nothing more than fragments left.

"Do you blame him?" I slowly lift my head to look at the man across from me. "My brother and I have low tolerance for people telling us they're going to rip our innards out and string them up as decor." He holds his hand out for the phone and I just stare at. I want to rip his arm out of its' socket.

"You hurt my sister." The words came out a lot calmer than the inner turmoil I'm currently feeling. "You had a gun on my father." The muscle in his jaw twitches as he looks to the side of the room. "Your brother is—" I can't make myself say it. I can't vocalize it or I will lose my damn mind.

"My brother is doing as told, nothing more, nothing less. You should understand that better than anyone else in this room." His angry green gaze finds mine, pinning me in much the same fashion I am him. "And, for the record, your father is the one who got my brother involved with the Albanians. He wouldn't even be in this situation if it wasn't for your family; for you." He's saying what I already know. This whole fucking things is my fault.

"Torey, give him the phone." My father's words have me holding out a hand and dropping the thing into the man's hand.

"You better go make shit better with my sister." The way she'd rushed into the guest house, like a mini tornado of tears and limbs freaking out for the life and job of the man in front of me, told me she cared far too much for him. More than he fucking deserves, that's for sure.

"I suggest that you do as my son has said."

"Sir," he turns his gaze back to him, "I apologize for the misunderstanding."

"You mean for pulling a fucking gun on him?"

"It's in the past, Braxton. From here on out I expect your full cooperation. Is that understood?"

"Yes. It is fully understood sir."

"What happened today stays in this room." He looks between the three of us seriously, tone holding a hint of something I've never quite heard. "Malyssa and Denver," he looks directly at me, "your parents are not to know about this." I hold my hands up but I make no promises because I caught the distrustful looks my dad threw Braxton's way. He knew something was off from the start and if asked I am not going to lie to him.

"I'm not to know about what?" The man I'd gotten my size and build from enters the room, glaring directly at him. "And why the fuck is our daughter packing all of her shit and demanding to leave?" The way his eyes shift to Braxton in a sinister manner has me plastering on a smirk. He knows exactly who is the reason behind that.

"I— Denver, I thought you were staying behind..."

"I don't trust those fucks after they helped Mal pull a fast one on us. I don't want anything to do with them. Then you started acting all sneaky and I am tired of having my spouses hiding shit from me." The last part was growled out. "Now are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on or what?" He crosses angry arms over his chest as he assesses my father in a knowing manner.

"Excuse us." He gestures for the three of us to leave.

The moment Braxton shuts the door he catapults himself down the hallway without a backward glance. It would appear that he does have genuine feelings for my sister. She's always been a temperamental thing, though. Him breaking her trust was a sure fire way to push her to peak mercuriality.

Speaking of that, I look over to Brooks who hasn't said a single word since I'd busted into the room and lost my shit. His lips are pursed, eyes narrowed on the floor as we continue to walk toward the exit. I'm surprised he isn't furious after hearing about the engagement.

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