Devil’s Lily: Chapter 27

It doesn’t take a genius to piece together what happened as I step out of the elevator. I dispassionately catalog every detail: the bodies and shell casings littering my hallway, the acrid stink of gunpowder hanging in the air. But everything else fades to background noise when I see her—my Elira—bleeding in the arms of another redhead I recognize as her brother. Roan fucking Përmeti.

Blinding, white-hot rage tears through my veins, so violently, it scorches every rational thought to ash, and before I even register reaching for it, my gun is out of its holster, aimed squarely at the back of his skull. “What the fuck did you do to my wife?”

The bastard doesn’t even acknowledge me, just keeps murmuring in Albanian while pressing on Elira’s wound. Like he has any right to touch her after what just happened.

Behind me, Dante curses, and I hear him get on the phone with Ethan, but it’s muffled, distant. All I see is Roan, all I feel is the blood boiling under my skin.

I keep my gun trained on Roan as my strides eat up the distance between us. Then I swing the grip into the side of his temple with a satisfying crack. His head snaps to the right, and blood immediately wells up where the skin splits.

A soft gasp drags my attention down to Elira, my beautiful wife struggling to sit up. “Maximo, no. Please, no. Don’t.” Her hazel eyes overflow with fear—so much fear that I might hurt her precious brother.

Beside me, Afrim makes a sound somewhere between a growl and a warning, but I couldn’t care less about his opinions right now. I toss my gun to the floor and shove Roan away from her. He tries to stay his ground, the stubborn fuck, so I fix him with an arctic stare. “Do not fucking test me right now, Përmeti.”

“Roan, it’s okay,” Elira’s soft assurance is the only thing that makes him move away. The moment he’s clear, I’m shrugging off my jacket and tying it around her upper arm tightly. My hands don’t shake—they never shake—but something inside me trembles as I lift her into my arms. She feels too light, too fragile. The thought that I could have lost her tonight makes me want to tear the city apart with my bare hands.

“It’s okay, Maximo,” she murmurs soothingly, like she’s trying to calm a wild animal. Maybe she is. “It was a graze, an accident, I’m fine and—” She cuts off with a gasp as I deliberately ram my shoulder into Roan on my way past, the impact jostling her.

“Fuck. Sorry.” I wince at her pain and adjust my hold, careful not to jostle her again. One of my men scrambles to get the door, practically tripping over himself, and I toss a quick glance at Dante, who’s right on my heels. “Ethan?”

“He’ll be here in five minutes. He understands the urgency.” Dante’s eyes flick to the Përmetis. “What do I do about the… intruders?”

My gaze drops to Elira, who’s already staring up at me with those wide, doe-like eyes. Christ, this woman will be the death of me. “Take them to my study. They can wait for me there.” I’d prefer the basement, personally, but something tells me that wouldn’t go over well. “Have three men stationed there with them. I don’t fucking trust them.”

Dante nods and disappears to execute my orders.

“Thank you,” my wife says sweetly, the tone far too innocent for someone dripping blood all over my shirt.

I narrow my eyes on her. “What the hell were you doing out there? Marco didn’t show you to the safe room?” Fucking Marco. If that incompetent fuck survives his wounds, I’ll kill him myself.

As if reading the murder in my thoughts, she reaches up with her uninjured arm to my neck, turning my face down to hers as I climb the stairs. “It wasn’t Marco’s fault.”

I snort. “His job was to protect you in my absence. He failed.” Spectacularly.

“He didn’t fail, Maximo,” she insists, those hazel eyes holding mine with unflinching determination. “He took me to the safe room, I swear. I walked out on my own after he left.”

I nearly miss a step. “You willingly joined the fucking mayhem? Why the fuck would you do that?” I snap, making her wince. Carefully adjusting her weight, I shoulder open my bedroom door. Then I lay her on the bed with exaggerated care, tucking the blanket over her pajama-clad body. Despite the fury coursing through me, my hands remember how to be gentle.

“I found the monitor room inside the safe room,” she admits, and I mentally curse myself for not better securing that area. “When I saw the CCTV feed, I recognized them. I couldn’t just sit there and watch my brother and father shoot at your men.”

Of all the stupid, reckless— “So your brilliant solution was to run out there, throw yourself into the middle of a firefight and, what? Try to heroically stop it?” Foolish woman. “Have you no sense of danger?”

Before I can rip into her some more, there’s a soft knock on the door. “Come in!” I bark, still glaring at my impossibly stubborn wife.

The door opens and Ethan walks in, holding his medical kit as usual. “Mrs. Leonotti. Not exactly how I hoped we’d meet again.” There’s a hint of dry humor in his voice as he approaches the bed.

I take a step back to give him room to work, but every cell in my body rebels against the distance. Like a caged beast, I pace behind him, tracking every movement as he opens his kit and carefully unties my ruined jacket from her arm. His low whistle does nothing for my nerves. “Wow, that’s a mean one. Luckily, it went through the flesh, so you won’t have to go through the pain of me trying to root the bullet out. It needs some stitches, though. I’ll try to leave as small a scar as possible.”

He speaks to her gently as he works, offering painkillers and distracting her with calm chatter while cleaning and stitching the wound. All the while, I pace, unable to shake the burning urge to storm downstairs and make the Përmetis pay for daring to attack my warehouses and my home in an attempt to kidnap my wife. But there’s no way in hell I’m leaving Elira until Ethan’s done with her—until I know she’s okay.

And then there’s the question of how to deal with my fucking in-laws.

If it were anyone else, it would be a no–brainer how I would retaliate. Instead of sitting comfortably in my study, they’d already be in my office basement getting acquainted with my more… creative side. The same side Heath Davis got to know intimately before he took his last breath. But fuck, Elira. I can’t do anything to them because of her.

What a fucking mess.

I don’t miss the nervous glances she keeps throwing my way, her eyes darting away whenever I catch her looking. It’s easy to see she’s worried about what I’ll do to them. She knows me too well already.

Ethan finishes in record time, and as he packs up his things, I’m already adjusting my sleeves and turning to leave the bedroom.

“Wait!” Elira’s scrambling out of the bed before I can reach the door, and my vision goes red.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get back on the fucking bed, or I’ll handcuff you to it.”

She juts her chin out stubbornly. “No. You’re going to see my father and brother, and I demand you take me with you.”

“You demand?” I repeat softly as I take a threatening step towards her. But she holds her ground, chin tipping impossibly higher until her nose is practically scraping the ceiling.

“She suffered significant blood loss, Maximo,” Ethan interjects, closing his kit with an irritatingly calm snick. “She needs as much rest as possible to recuperate.”

“Tell her that. She’s the one who just jumped out of the bed like it’s on fucking fire,” I snarl.

“And I will rest. After we see Roan and Atë. Unless you follow through on that handcuff threat, Maximo, I’m coming with you. And let me warn you, if you handcuff me, I’ll struggle and try to break out of the damn cuffs until every single one of these stitches pops and I bleed out all over your thousand-dollar sheets.”

My temper fucking snaps. “You’re threatening me? You⁠—”

“Maximo.” Ethan quickly steps between us, and I growl before punching him square in the face. He staggers back as Elira gasps in dismay.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she screams, moving to check on him.

“Fucking step away from him if you don’t want me to rearrange his face permanently.” Nobody gets between me and my wife. Nobody.

Elira shoots me a look that could strip paint but quickly steps away when she realizes I mean it. Then she’s in front of me, her injured hand on my chest, the other on my cheek, forcing me to look at her. The gesture is so intimate, so naturally commanding, that it catches me off guard.

“You need to calm the fuck down, Maximo,” she says softly, eyes flashing, and something about this tiny, injured woman cursing and trying to sound tough sends an unexpected tendril of tenderness through me, tinged with amusement. My lips twitch. “Are you fucking smiling right now?” The disbelief in her voice only makes it harder not to laugh.

“Don’t curse,” I tell her as the door closes behind Ethan’s hasty escape.

“Oh, so you can curse, but I can’t?” She rolls her eyes, dropping her hand from my face as she takes a step back. I grab her wrist quickly and press a kiss into her palm.

“I’m not going to hurt your brother or father.” No matter how much I want to. “Stay in bed and get some sleep, Elira.”

But she shakes her head, stubborn as ever. “I need to talk to them too. They need to see that I’m alright—and that I’m here willingly. Otherwise, they’ll try something stupid again. Like attempting another rescue.”

Fuck. She has a point, as much as I hate to admit it. I sigh, giving in. “Alright.”

After a quick assessment of her condition, I sweep her up into my arms, earning a surprised squeal as she instinctively loops her arms around my neck for balance. Then she flinches—no doubt pulling at her stitches—and I carefully readjust her injured arm to rest on her stomach.

The warmth of her head on my chest as I walk towards my study fills me with more tenderness than I’ve ever felt in my life, and I’m not quite sure what to do with it. I’ve never been this tangled up over a woman before, never felt this… protective. Possessive, sure. Lustful, definitely. But this? This is dangerous territory.

Roan and Afrim get to their feet when I step into the study, their gazes immediately honing in on my precious cargo. “Elira is fine. No thanks to either of you.” I glance at my men, and with a tilt of my head, they scurry out.

“Maximo.” Elira’s gentle admonishment comes with a hand pressed to my chest, and just like that, the last dregs of my anger evaporate. Damn it. Still, I narrow my eyes at her family as I settle on the sofa, keeping her carefully arranged in my lap.

Her fucking brother remains on his feet, his face pulled tight. “Lira, you’re coming home with us.”

“She’s fucking home already.” I tighten my grip possessively, but then Elira’s pushing away from me, and I frown as I reluctantly let her go. She gets to her feet and carefully makes her way to her former family. Because that’s what they are now—former. I’m her family now. The sooner they get that through their thick skulls, the better.

“I’m completely happy here with Maximo. He’s my husband and I’m staying with him.” She holds up her ring finger, and the sight of my diamond catching the light fills me with a satisfaction so primitive it should be embarrassing. That’s my girl. I lean back, enjoying the show.

“He kidnapped you,” her father argues, throwing a glare at me. “Are you trying to say you fell for your abductor?”

Elira grabs the old man’s hands, her expression soft but unyielding. “I wasn’t kidnapped, Atë. I know you watched the CCTV footage. I walked out on my own and messaged Maximo to meet me at the Flushing Meadows Park. After a wonderful day together, he proposed to me and, well, I said yes.”

What a little liar. My lips twitch with the urge to smirk.

“No way. That’s a fucking lie, Lira,” Roan interrupts her sweet speech, ruining my entertainment. “You might be impulsive sometimes, but even you know better than to jump into marriage with a man you just met.”

She frowns, crossing her arms. “You don’t believe in love at first sight, Roan?”

The man snorts, and I can’t help but do the same, earning a cross look from my wife. I raise my hands innocently, the smirk still tugging at my lips.

“Listen, all of you.” There’s steel in her voice now, despite the obvious effects of the painkillers. “I’ve just been shot for the first time in my life—which, by the way, is not an experience I recommend—and I’m sleepy as hell from the drug the doctor gave me. So I’m only going to say this once: Maximo and I are married now. That makes every single person in this room family, whether you like it or not. I thought I made that clear to Atë when I called him the other day, but apparently not.”

She fixes them with a stern look worthy of a schoolteacher. “No more rescue attempts… and no more killing each other’s men.” The last part comes with a particular pointed look at me. I shrug. After the havoc Afrim and his men wreaked tonight, I’d say we’re even.

“Good, glad to have that out of the way.” Her voice softens as she looks at her brother. “Nice to see you again after so long, Roan. What did you do to your hair?” The question ends in a yawn that she tries and fails to suppress.

I’m on my feet before she can wobble, watching as Roan self-consciously fusses with his ridiculous bun. “I grew it out,” he answers simply as I reach Elira’s side.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. That’s enough family bonding. You need to rest.” Her body slumps against me, exhaustion finally winning, and I lift her carefully. “Wait here,” I order her brother and father before carrying her back upstairs.

She’s already nodding off by the time I place her on my bed. Pure stubbornness must have kept her awake this long. I pull the covers up to her chin, tucking her in gently, and start to turn away when I feel her hand wrap around my wrist.

Her brows furrow adorably as she forces her eyes open. “Be nice.”

I lean down to press a kiss on her temple. “I’m always nice.”

“Liar.” The accusation comes out slurred with sleep, drawing a low chuckle from me as I leave her side. But it wasn’t a lie. Not really. She has no idea what I’m really capable of because I’ve been nice to her—at least since we got married. And now, for her sake, that niceness will extend to her family.

The smile fades from my face as the night’s events catch up to me, and I crack my neck to shake off the fatigue. I suddenly want nothing else but to crawl into bed next to Elira and sleep like the fucking dead.

Later, I promise myself. There’s business to handle first.

Back in the study, I get straight to the point. “So tonight. Blowing up three warehouses? Trafficking little girls? Was that all part of the grand distraction for your attempt to attack my house? Or do you have something else to confess?”

The two men exchange glances, then frown at me. “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Afrim says.

I narrow my eyes on both of them. “I don’t believe you.”

Roan shrugs. “Believe what you want. We have no reason to lie when you have Elira. And apparently, she’s not coming home with us. You can do anything you want to her, so that’s even more incentive to tell the truth.”

Before I can rip his throat out for suggesting I’d hurt Elira, he continues, “We only blew up your drug den at Flushing Bay because it was farthest from here and drugs are nasty business. That’s all we did. If two more of your warehouses got blown, you should probably look inwards. You’ve made more than your fair share of enemies over the years.”

“And what’s this about trafficking girls?” Affirm puts in, face pulling in disgust. “How preposterous.”

I take a seat across from them and steeple my fingers as I take them in. Well, fuck. They’re telling the truth. They really don’t know anything about it all. Which means…

“Then you must have a rat on your side of the fence. Someone who knew about your plan to attack me tonight and used it to make you take the fall for everything, because I know for sure the trafficking op was led by an Albanian.”

They inhale sharply and exchange another one of those loaded looks.

“You met with other Albanian leaders a couple of days ago,” I press, recalling Rafael’s warning. “Why?”

“You had Elira,” Afrim explains. “We had to inform them of our rescue plans—in case you and the Nightshades retaliated after tonight. We’d need their backing.”

So that means roughly five people knew their plans. And there’s every chance those people blabbed to others, meaning our suspect could be anyone. Fuck.

Rolling my neck, I force myself to dispel the tension. “You don’t have to worry about retaliation from me or my brothers. After all, as my wife said, we’re one big, happy family now.” I flash a smile that makes Roan’s jaw clench. “Let’s cooperate, shall we?”