Page 33 of Vengeful Devotion
Declan’s footstepsseem to shake the entire room as he stomps away. Francine said her sons don’t get along, but that is an understatement. I’ve never seen such visceral hatred. Declan is practically shaking with it.
“What is that about?” I ask Juliette.
She shrugs. “Declan and Warren don’t get along because Warren has an addiction problem. About a year ago, Declan kicked him out of the family. Right after our father died.”
“Then why is he here?”
“Because my mother listens to no one. Least of all someone telling her to abandon her child in his time of need.”
I watch Declan’s retreating back, somehow feeling guilty for staying at the table. God, the level of my loyalty astounds me. Especially since he couldn’t dislike me any more than he already does. Or is it my stupidity? I close my eyes, trying to shake off the feeling. But it’s no use.
Warren leans down, kissing Juliette’s cheek. He gives me a nod before moving to greet Simone and Vivienne.
“How have you been?” Simone asks.
“I’m better.”
“One day at a time,” she replies.
Warren sits where Declan was, making the bile in my stomach churn. I liked that seat a lot better when it was filled with his brother. Maybe a little too much. Grabbing my glass of water, I find myself suddenly wishing I took Francine up on her offer of wine earlier.
“You okay?” Juliette asks. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fi—“
My sentence is interrupted when someone bumps into my chair, causing my water to spill all over my dress. The chill of the soaked fabric makes me gasp.
“What the hell?” Juliette screeches at the man behind us. She pushes him away, but it doesn’t do much. For a drunk guy, he’s pretty balanced.
Warren stands up fast enough to knock his chair over. “Apologize.”
“Or what, pretty boy?”
The man’s voice slurs, coming out more garbled than anything.
“Or I’ll spray your brain matter all over this fucking place.”
The hairs on my arm stand up. That wasn’t Warren’s voice. I look up, seeing Declan standing inches from the man. His face is a violent storm. Anger flashes in his eyes. It’s all the warning I get before he puts his hand around the man’s neck.
“Declan,” Francine hisses. “Declan Patrick, let him go right now.”
He tightens his hand. I don’t stop him. How could I? I’m too busy admiring Declan for protecting me. No one has ever protected me before. I’m not even sure what I’m feeling. But I know it’s euphoric. The man gags on his desperate attempt to get air. Juliette nudges me. I look over at her.
“Make him stop.”
“Why?”
Her face furrows. “Do you want him in jail?”
Juliette’s words are enough to snap me out of the trance I’m in. I place a hand on Declan’s raised arm.
“Let him go, Declan.”
He looks at me. His gaze mimicking the rage of a tornado. It’s clear that letting this man go is the last thing Declan wants to do. I can’t help but love him in this moment. He has no idea how much this has meant to me. But Juliette is right. If Declan commits a murder in front of all these people, he will go to jail. Not even the king of Vegas could get away with that.
I squeeze his arm, putting a little more pressure on him. “Please.”
Slowly, his hand retracts, his arm falling to his side. It feels like the entire room lets out a relieved sigh. I look around. I didn’t notice how quiet it had gotten in the midst of all this chaos. An older man hurries towards the one who bumped into me. They look like they could be father and son.
