Chapter 236
Wesley
The red laser dots danced across my chest like fireflies hunting prey. My hands instinctively tightened around the grip of my gun as I watched Arthur Lawson emerge from behind the wall of armed officers, his cane tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against the hardwood floor.
Behind me, I heard the sharp intake of breath from Dante, the subtle shift of weight as Carlo's hand moved toward his concealed weapon. The air in the hallway had gone from tense to suffocating in the span of a heartbeat.
"Easy," I said quietly, the word barely more than a whisper. "Nobody moves."
I could feel their eyes on me—waiting, questioning. We'd come here to extract two men. Now we were staring down the barrel of a small army, and the man commanding them was the patriarch of the family I'd been raised in. The same man whose disappointment had carved deeper wounds than any fist ever could.
"Felix. Thomas. Get in front," I ordered, my voice steady despite the adrenaline screaming through my veins. "Now."
Jax moved first, shoving Thomas forward with enough force to make the old man stumble. Dante followed suit with Felix, though my cousin could barely stand on his own—his face was a mask of blood and swelling from where I'd beaten him moments before.
Arthur's eyes tracked the movement, and I watched his expression shift from fury to something colder. Something calculating.
"Wesley," he said, and even now, even after everything, that voice still carried the weight of absolute authority. "Are you kidnapping your own family?"
The question hung in the air like smoke. I opened my mouth to respond, but Arthur wasn't finished.
"Look at what you've done to Felix!" His cane struck the floor with a crack that made everyone flinch. "What the hell has gotten into you?"
"Arthur—" I started, but my voice came out rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat and tried again. "I can explain this. But tonight, I'm taking them with me. That's not negotiable."
For a moment, I thought he might actually listen. For one stupid, naive moment, I thought the old man might trust me enough to step aside.
Then Thomas started coughing.
It was violent, theatrical—the kind of performance that would've won him an Oscar if he'd chosen acting over organized crime. He doubled over, one hand clutching at his chest, the other reaching toward Arthur like a drowning man grasping for a lifeline.
"Father," he wheezed, and I swear to God, there were actual tears forming in his eyes. "Father... this is... this is a family tragedy..."
I felt my stomach drop. I knew that tone. I'd heard it before, in a thousand different variations—the wounded patriarch, the suffering father, the man who'd been so terribly wronged.
"You can't blame Wesley entirely," Thomas continued, his voice breaking with what I could only assume was practiced emotion. "He's young... he doesn't understand... Lance and Serena, they're the ones pulling the strings. They've manipulated him, turned him against his own blood—"
"You lying piece of shit," I snarled, taking a half-step forward before Miles grabbed my arm.
But the damage was done. I could see it in Arthur's face—the way his eyes widened, the way his gaze swept over me and the men flanking me, taking in our weapons, our stance, the undeniable truth of what we'd become.
"You really did join a gang," he said softly, and somehow that quiet disappointment cut deeper than any shout could have. "Wesley... you've let me down in ways I never thought possible."
He turned his attention back to Thomas, and I saw the calculation happening behind those sharp eyes.
"Is what Thomas said true? Does Lance have something to do with this?"
Felix chose that moment to laugh. It was a wet, gurgling sound that sent chills down my spine. Blood dripped from his split lip as he grinned up at Arthur, looking for all the world like a man who'd just drawn the winning hand.
"Grandfather," he said, his voice steady despite the obvious pain. "I said a few unkind words about Lance and his little girlfriend. And for that, my own nephew tried to murder me."
He paused, letting that sink in.
"You need to arrest Wesley. But tomorrow? You need to have the police investigate Lance. Because tonight's kidnapping? Tonight's violence?" Felix's grin widened. "That was all Lance's idea."