Chapter 64: I’m not jealous.

Lysander’s POV

Last night ran wild. The prisoner was more stubborn than I expected. Even after hours of questioning, he refused to give me anything useful. He would rather bleed than talk, thinking he could survive the torture until he bled out to death from the gunshot wounds I had given him.

He was wrong.

I sent for our doctor. He came, stitched him up, stopped the bleeding, checked his pulse and made sure the bastard was stable enough to survive the whole ordeal.

Then I continued.

I had changed my mind about killing him.

Dead men don’t carry messages. I needed whoever had sent him to know that I wasn’t someone they could test and walk away from. I needed them to understand that if they came into my territory, they had better be prepared for the consequences.

Eventually, the bastard talked and just as I suspected, it was the Hamilton brothers.

They were behind the interference with my shipment. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for them. They had sent someone to sniff around my club, trying to find out what else they could use against me.

I’ll pay the Hamilton brothers a visit soon.

Personally too.

For now, though, I need a shower. I need to wash this bastard’s blood off me before I step anywhere near my family.

By the time I pull into the driveway, exhaustion is settling heavily into my bones.

The house is quiet from the outside but when I open the door, laughter reaches me from the dining room.

The kind that makes the entire house feel alive.

I stop for a moment wondering what the hell is happening before i remember Isabella slept over with her friend last night.

I sigh.

I need sleep....a lot of it.

But I also owe my sister an apology so I head toward the dining room.

The moment I step inside, I see them.

Isabella is sitting at the table with Victoria and Nerissa is there too.

She’s sitting close to Victoria, a little too close for my liking. Victoria is leaning toward her, one hand holding a napkin as she gently dabs at Nerissa’s lips.

Something inside me snaps tight as rage rushes through me so suddenly that even I don’t understand it.

My hands curl into fists at my sides.

Why the hell do I care? Victoria isn’t doing anything wrong, she’s helping Nerissa that’s all.

So why does the sight of her touching my wife make me want to drag her hand away and introduce her face to a wall?

I force myself to look away.

Isabella notices me at the door way.

"Can I have a word?"

Isabella looks at me. Her smile disappearing almost immediately.

She reluctantly pushes her chair back and follows me when I move a little farther away from the dining room.

The moment we’re out of earshot, she folds her arms over her chest.

"What is it?"

She’s still pissed, I can’t really blame her.

I sigh.

"I’m sorry about what I said yesterday."

Her eyebrows rise.

"I shouldn’t have said that."

"Yeah, you really shouldn’t have."

I nod.

"I understand you’re pissed," she continues. "But saying that was crossing a line, Lysander."

"I know."

I look at her.

"That’s why I’m apologizing."

For a few seconds, she just stares at me, then she lets out a long sigh.

"We’re good, bro."

Some of the tension leaves my shoulders.

"But," she adds, pointing a finger at me, "I meant what I said yesterday. Nerissa is my sister-in-law and I like her. I want to keep being friends with her."

I frown.

"Does you being friends with her automatically mean Rina is friends with her?"

Isabella blinks.

"You mean Victoria?"

I pause.

"Ah."

She grins.

"So that’s her name."

"Yes. Victoria."

I glance toward the dining room. She’s still sitting beside Nerissa talking animatedly. Nerissa gives her all her attention.

My jaw tightens.

"What’s up with her? You’ve never had a problem with her."

"True."

I shove my hands into my pockets.

"Not until I saw her hitting on my wife."

For a second, Isabella just stares at me then she bursts out laughing.

I glare at her.

"What?"

"Is that jealousy I see in you, brother?"

"Of course not."

The answer comes too quickly and she laughs harder.

"I’m not jealous."

"Sure."

"I’m not."

She pats my shoulder.

"Yeah, right. Whatever you say."

I roll my eyes.

"Are you done?"

"Not even close."

She is still smiling when her eyes travel over me.

"Why are you covered in blood anyway?"

I glance down at myself.

Right. The blood.

There’s still a dark stain across my shirt, and another mark near my sleeve.

I hadn’t even noticed it anymore.

"A meeting ran long."

I keep my voice casual.

"And it got a little..."

I pause.

"Difficult."

Isabella narrows her eyes at me but luckily she doesn’t push.

"Okay."

"I’ll go shower."

I turn away.

"See you later."

I don’t wait for her answer.

I walk upstairs, leaving her standing there.

The truth is, I try to shield Isabella from the ugly side of what we do.

She knows enough.

She grew up around this family. Around men who carry guns beneath their jackets and settle arguments in ways that never make it into police reports.

She knows our world isn’t clean.

But knowing something and seeing it are two different things.

I don’t want her to see the blood, I don’t want her to know what happens in the rooms beneath my club, I don’t want her to know how easily a man can disappear when he crosses the wrong person.

There is a world beneath our world.

A world that taints everything it touches and once you’re inside it, there is no washing it off.

I’ve tried.

For years but the blood always finds its way back onto my hands.

Maybe I’m already too far gone, maybe I’ve been a devil for so long that I’ve forgotten what being anything else feels like.

But Isabella...She doesn’t deserve that.

She is one of the few good things this family has left.

The little bit of innocence in a world that has spent generations teaching us how to destroy and if I have to become the monster standing between her and that darkness, then so be it.

I’ll carry it alone.

That’s what older brothers are supposed to do.