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I forced my focus back to the meeting when Dante started bringing out charts and shit, showing the major players in Warren’s crew, layouts of his home, makes and models of cars.
It was all really fucking impressive, actually. I could tell by the way Luca was nodding along that he felt the same way, that Dante had definitely gained a lot of respect from the boss from this job.
Sure, Dante was likely motivated by revenge, wanting to make the fuckers pay who put bullets in his brother.
Still, it was showing a lot of maturity on his part that he didn’t let his anger blind him, that he was able to get such intricate plans and details about everyone without snapping and just shooting at the fuckers.
It was almost two hours later when the meeting seemed to be winding down.
And my phone started to ring in my pocket.
I ignored the first two, thinking maybe it was Smush, annoyed that I hadn’t responded to her texts.
But the third one had my stomach twisting, and I reached for it with clumsy fingers, seeing Claire’s name on the screen.
My stomach fucking bottomed out as I answered, and heard the panicked voice on the other end of the phone.
“He’s here. He’s here. He’s coming for us,” she choked out, her voice tight and small.
“Fuck,” I called out, putting my phone down for a second, making all the eyes turn in my direction, faces tight, some immediately rising out of their chairs. “Warren is at my house, coming for Claire and Judah,” I said.
Then I was turning and running.
“I’m coming, angel. Just hold on.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Claire
“Let’s see what is going on out—“ I started to say to Judah as I pulled back the curtain, forgetting all about how the windows were only mirrored during the day, protecting us, and that at night, anyone could see right in.
Not that I was thinking about that the first thing.
Because I was straining to see in the dark, hearing several voices.
Then, like in slow motion, I saw the guard that was usually sitting in his car come rushing up toward the house, the front porch light shining off the gun in his hand.
As he raised it.
Then shot.
Once.
Twice.
I didn’t see who or what he was shooting at.
And I seemed frozen in the spot, my mind and body not quite registering what was going on.
Until more shadows moved out of the darkness.
And the porch light lit on someone’s face.
Someone I was starting to think I would never see again.
Warren.
Panic, familiar, but having gotten buried beneath the newer sensation of safety, sprang up.
