Chapter 8: (Dontrell’s POV) The Meeting, Part 2

The smoke from Clayton’s gun lingered as the man crumpled to the ground. Clayton holstered his gun, his cold gaze fixed on the body. “Get rid of him,” he ordered, his tone like ice. The security men swiftly dragged the corpse out. He turned back to the council. “This is our time to act. Call the Graves’ second-in-command—no deals, no mercy.”

The room was tight with tension as Clayton spoke. His words were sharp, cutting through the heavy air like a blade. I stiffened at his bluntness. Clayton had no patience for diplomacy.

Simeon, the Graves Gang's representative, shot to his feet. His eyes burnt with anger, his voice booming across the room. "You can’t accuse us of killing our boss. Of robbing you." His words echoed, thick with indignation.

"No one mentioned robbery, Simeon. Yet you seem to know about it.” Clayton shot back.

I turned my gaze toward Simeon, locking eyes with him. Every man in the room was watching him now, waiting for him to break, but he struggled for words, caught under the weight of Clayton’s accusation.

Clayton sneered. “Lost your voice?” His hand moved to his holster, the sharp click of the safety a chilling reminder of his readiness. Start talking, or your silence will cost more than you can pay.”

Two of Simeon’s men stood, but neither dared reach for their weapons. They knew better.

“Lord Clayton,” the Raven interjected with a calm but firm tone. “Dead men can’t answer questions.”

Andrew’s voice broke the silence, a steady hand on Clayton’s arm. “Take it easy, bro.”

Clayton’s glare lingered on Simeon before he relented, holstering his weapon. The air remained heavy, but the moment of violence had passed.

The Raven raised a hand, signalling the next phase of the meeting. "Simeon from The Graves, Matrife Carlos of the Sombres, and Lord Clayton," he called out, his voice sharp now, a command that brooked no argument.

Simeon and Carlos stood, moving to the centre of the pulpit. The room fell into silence, the spotlight illuminating them as the Raven bowed to the Godfather before returning to his seat. I stepped aside for Clayton to pass, my mind only on Allison.

The spokesman on the left cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tension. "Simeon, your boss—the Regent—robbed the Godfather’s warehouse and leaked its location. Were you aware of this?"

Clayton muttered something under his breath, barely audible. The spokesman raised an eyebrow, noticing the slip.

"Is something the problem, Lord Clayton?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"I said they attempted to rob our warehouse," Clayton shot back, his words laced with a warning. "It wasn’t a success, so calling it a robbery is a stretch. Unless the dead Regent plans to rise and steal again, I’d say he’s welcome to try."

"Noted, Lord Clayton," the spokesman responded, his irritation obvious. "But if you continue speaking out of turn, you’ll be punished."

“Simeon, you were aware of the theft attempt, yes or no?” the spokesman demanded.

"No," Simeon replied, feigning innocence, but the lie was too obvious.

"You mentioned it earlier, though," the spokesman pressed. "Tell us the truth."

"I know nothing, sir," Simeon stammered. "I only heard about it from one of our men on the way here."

"Call the member who told you about this out," the spokesman ordered coldly.

"Jack!" Simeon barked, his voice a sharp command.

A young man, barely twenty-five, stepped forward. His hands trembled as he stood beside Simeon, his face pale with fear.

"Jack, how did you know about the Regent’s theft?" one of the council’s men asked.

Jack stammered, his voice trembling. "This morning, a masked man came to our site, and I overheard their conversation. He told Boss Simeon the Regent was dead, leaving the gang leaderless. He said Simeon could become the new regent if he played his cards right.”

Simeon’s face went ashen, fury flashing in his eyes. "You’re a liar and a traitor!" he roared, his anger barely contained.

"You implicated me first," Jack shot back, his voice rising.

"Do you know who the man was?" the spokesman demanded.

"I don’t know," Jack answered, panic rising in his voice. "He was masked, but his voice... It sounded like Matrife Carlos. He also had the same tattoo as the Matrifé."

The room froze. All eyes turned to Carlos, who stood rigid, his gaze locked on Jack. His temper flared. "You must be insane! It’s a dice tattoo! Anyone in Los Angeles could have it!"

With a snap, Carlos pulled his gun, pointing it directly at Jack, who cowered beneath the Raven.

"Drop the weapon!" the spokesman ordered, his voice thunderous. "Bringing a weapon to the pulpit is a threat to the Godfather and the Circle’s men. You’re hereby stripped of your position until further notice."

Carlos hesitated but eventually lowered his weapon. The Raven snatched it from his hand, his expression cold.

"Lord Clayton," the spokesman said, turning to him. "Who else do you suspect is behind this?”

Clayton’s gaze was icy, unwavering. "Aside from Simeon and Carlos, I don’t have anyone else in mind. But whoever stands to gain from the regent’s death is worth looking into."

The council broke into hushed discussions, strategising their next steps. Finally, one spoke.

“Jack is to be bound and subjected to physical labour for the circle until further notice, with no reprieve.” He decreed harshly.

Jack screamed, shaking his head in denial. "I'm not taking the fall for anyone!" He bolted for the door, fear etched on his face.

Before anyone could react, Clayton threw his knife into the air. The silver blade flashed as it hurtled toward Jack and struck his back, piercing his right-hand side with a sickening thud. He let out a strangled cry, his legs faltering under the pain. Security seized Jack before he hit the ground, dragging him back to the pulpit. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the agony in his eyes was palpable.

They hauled Jack back to the pulpit, but the spokesman’s voice cut through the chaos. "Take him to the underground cellar. Along with the Matrife and Simeon. They’ll be locked up until further notice."

The watchmen moved swiftly, dragging them away. The Raven stood, his voice steady. "The investigation will continue. For now, the position of regent will remain vacant until further notice."

Clayton’s expression softened just a fraction—satisfaction in his eyes as the meeting came to a close. The Raven’s voice rang out, dismissing everyone. "This meeting is adjourned."

The room emptied quickly, tension lingering as we stepped out into the cool evening air. Andrew’s face was unusually tense, his calm exterior cracked by the meeting’s chaos.

‘I need a drink after that,’ Clayton muttered, breaking the silence as we approached the car.

‘Not until we’re back in the compound,’ I replied affirmatively, trying to shake the unease from my chest.

The tension from the meeting lingered as we drove back. I mulled over the cryptic message in the picture, trying to piece together its meaning, but my thoughts kept slipping back to Allison, waiting for me at the mansion.

The mansion came into view, its grand staircase illuminated by the glow of porch lights.

As we stepped out of the car, Allison’s familiar figure caught my eye. She stood on the porch, her soft laughter carrying over as she waved Doris off. Something in that moment—the calm after the storm—grounded me.”*

Mr. Blade, my father, reached Allison, and she greeted him with a smile, but he only responded with a slight nod before heading inside. Andrew passed by her without a word, his eyes scanning the surroundings.

As I got to where Allison stood, she asked, "How was the meeting?"

Before I could answer, I kissed her—deep, passionate. The world seemed to freeze around us, my body pressing hers against the doorframe. When I finally pulled back, I whispered, "That's for all the times I've missed you today."

She smiled, her angelic glow illuminating my world.

Clayton approached us, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He glanced at us, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I didn’t realise you were turning the entrance into a bloody love nest. Maybe I should’ve brought a chair to watch the show since you two won’t move."

His eyes flicked between me and Allison. "You’re not fooling anyone, Allison. Just weeks ago, you nearly stabbed yourself when your father told you about your arranged marriage to my family. Now you’re all sweet and mushy with him. What’s your play, huh? Because I won’t let you ruin what my father and I have worked for.

Allison stepped aside, pulling me with her. As I caught my breath, I leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Let me put him in his place,” my voice low and heated. She chuckled softly, a playful glint in her eyes. “No, don’t,” she replied with a laugh, her grip steady on my hand.

Clayton stepped into the house, but before the door fully closed, he turned back, one hand propped on the frame, his posture cocky. Half his body lingered behind the door.

His words landed like a slap, stoking the fire inside me. “You don’t get it, Dontrell,” he bit out, fists clenched at his sides. “But I know why she’s pretending. As soon as you lose your grip on her, she’ll make her escape. But I promise you that won’t happen, not while she’s in this mansion, under our father’s roof, and not after everything her dad owes us.”

I stepped toward him, anger surging through me. But then Allison’s hand rubbed mine, grounding me. I glanced at her, finding calm, then turned back to my brother. He grinned, eyes flicking from me to the hands Allison still held tightly. His laugh was a low, mocking hiss.

“Little Allison, let me remind you of how all this started: your father slept with one of our whores, and she escaped, leaving him tied up and naked. My father kidnapped you to replace the girl your father lost. So, keep that in mind when you sleep, because one day when you fall out of character and show your true intentions to this family, I’ll be there to end you.”

I moved toward him, my blood boiling, but Allison quickly stepped in front of me. “Calm down,” she murmured, her voice like a soothing balm. Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I was lost in them, the rage cooling in my chest.

Clayton shut the door with a loud thud, retreating from defeat. Allison only chuckled, brushing off his words with ease.

I stood close, my voice low and my hands on her waist. “Our marriage wasn’t what either of us wanted, but from the moment I laid eyes on you, I longed to call you mine. No one else could’ve faced what you had and still be here.”

I brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, my fingers trailing gently down her cheek before I cupped her face in my palm. “There’ll be days you hate me, love me, and deal with my impish brother. But no matter what day you’re having, I’ll always want you.”

I stepped closer, her breath catching as I held her gaze. My voice was low, steady, but unyielding as I whispered against her forehead.

“You’re not a pawn to me. You’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for. You’re mine now, and I’ll make sure nothing takes you from me.”

Before she could respond, I lifted her into my arms, her body fitting perfectly against mine. I carried her through the room with a purposeful stride, not pausing as I pressed the elevator button for the 4th floor.

“You’re mine,” I murmured, my lips brushing her ear as we got into our room. “No one will ever forget it; no one will dare touch you. Not even my brother.”