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"You haven't met Dimitri and Uncle Dante," I mutter. "You don'ttellthem anything."
He scowls at this. "No one makes you do anything you don't want to do, Devin."
"It's not that simple."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Because my uncle is Dante Arakas," I whisper.
Chapter Three
Jude
"Saythatagain,"Isay, sure I misunderstood.
"Which part?"
I growl at her.
"My uncle is Dante Arakas," she whispers, confirming that I heard her correctly the first time.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I swear, staring at her in shock. The Arakas family is the biggest crime family in Houston, if not Texas. They're virtually untouchable. The FBI has been trying to build a case against them for years, but it mysteriously falls apart every single time. I have my suspicions that has to do with the fact that they're one of the only things keeping the cartels in check.
If not for them, drug and human trafficking through Texas would be a whole hell of a lot worse. And it's not great to begin with. Not saying I agree with the shit Devin's family does, but when the system is broken, sometimes street rules are the only rules that matter. The Arakas family does what the system can't. Cartels actually respect Dante Arakas. They fear him.
Fear is a powerful motivator. It's damn sure an effective one.
I may be a hard ass when it comes to keeping my brothers on the straight and narrow, but I'm a realist too. Light doesn't exist when darkness dies. Rather, light exists relative to darkness. Without it, there is no light. If we never know sorrow, how do we understand joy? If we never know the struggle; how do we appreciate our blessings?
We're human. We clawed our way out of the dirt and fought our way to the top of the food chain. Those instincts didn't just die because we donned fancy fucking suits and learned to fly planes. There will always be crime. Guys like Dante Arakas may be part of the problem, but they aren't the biggest part of the problem, not by far. He isn't selling kids into slavery or murdering entire families just because he fucking can.
I'll take him over some of those shady motherfuckers any day.
"You're a Quartermain," I say.
"I'm an Arakas," Devin says. "My mom was a Quartermain. I started using her last name when Uncle Dante and Dimitri sent me here. They thought it would be safer for me."
"Dimitri?"
"Dimitri Arakas." The tip of her pink tongue peeps out, wetting her bottom lip. "My brother."
"Jesus," I mutter, trying to wrap my head around this. Devin is an Arakas. I release my grip on her to scrub my hands down my face, pretty fucking certain Cash doesn't have a clue about any of this. He would have called us to Church months ago if he'd known. She worked at his wife's flower shop for months with Hadley and Kyra. I'm guessing he never ran her background. Probably thought it wasn't necessary since she was still in high school at the time and living with Beverly Quartermain, who has lived in Silver Spoon Falls since before Jesus was crucified.
"If you'll just let me go, I promise I won't come back," she whispers, wringing her hands together. The misery in her voice cracks my heart wide open. Poor princess is all worked up and out of sorts. She's lost her mind if she thinks I'm letting her leave, though.
She's not going anywhere. Especially not if Dante Arakas is trying to drag her back to Houston against her will. It'll be a cold day in hell before I allow that to happen. She isn't mine—goddamn, I wish she were—but she isn't property either. No one tells her what she can and cannot do and where she will and will not live, not while I have the breath in my lungs to stop it.
"You aren't going anywhere, Devin," I growl, dropping my hands to glare at her.
"Jail?" Her bottom lip quivers.
For someone who grew up surrounded by criminals, she seems awfully terrified of the prospect. Poor princess. Who knows what she's seen in her life? What she's been through? My fuckingsoulcries out in rage at the possibilities. If anyone hurt her, I'll tear their goddamn throats out. They won't ever get near her again.
"You aren't going to jail. You aren't going anywhere."
Never again. Never again.
I don't say that though. Fuck, she'd probably cower in terror if she knew I wanted to lock her up in this room so no one could ever get close to her again. So I could keep her and her light all to myself. She wouldn't have to worry about her family then. I'd keep her so blissed out that she'd forget she even knew what fear tasted like.
