His Mafia Prince
Chapter 173: Why Is Everyone Mad?

Chapter 173: Why Is Everyone Mad?

(WESLEY)

I follow closely behind Miles to his study in strained silence.

I’m not sorry that I saved Jericho’s life, though I know that it hurts his ego in a way. Anxiety eats at me as I watch him go up the stairs. I want to talk to him. I want to comfort him even though I know that he wouldn’t want that now. Sometimes, I hate how prideful alphas are. I see no logical reason why an omega wouldn’t be as brave as an alpha. Every day, I keep hoping that those stereotypes will die, but they are alive and kicking. What even makes them worse is the macho nature of the syndicate culture.

"What the hell were you thinking carrying a gun?" Miles growls, breaking my fixation on Jericho.

I meet his dark gaze nervously. "Why is everyone so agitated that I carried a gun? You all carry, so why shouldn’t I?"

My response seems to throw him off and he hesitates at first. "Because you were around the baby."

"Yes. A baby who happens to be the son of the second most powerful figure in the Triple Triad syndicate. It’s not entirely impossible that something bad could happen. I wanted to be prepared just in case.

"And where did you learn to shoot like that?" a muscle in his jaw jerks. "Luca says you were no newbie."

"I had already told you before that I know how to shoot."

"You are evading the question." He says, leaning closer to me. "Where did you learn to shoot like that?"

"If you must know, my father taught me." I’m not lying about that. Miles doesn’t need to know who my father is or why learning how to shoot was a necessity. "Tons of people know how to shoot guns, Miles. I don’t know why everyone is acting surprised that I know how to handle a gun."

"But you seemed uneasy about working for anyone who had connections with the mafia when I hired you. You said that you hated violence."

"Yeah, right. That’s true, but just because I can handle a gun doesn’t mean that I enjoy the violence. I don’t. In fact, I hate it." I sigh. "But Jericho would have died today, or seriously injured in the very least. Luca wouldn’t have stopped the guy if I hadn’t acted fast, so I did."

"See," he jabs a finger on me. "It is the shit like this that makes me not trust you. I know that you are hiding something."

Miles’ incessant words irk me. I’m starting to believe that maybe he has some vendetta against me because I don’t know why he has to be a pill all the time. I press my lips and hesitate at first then say, "Fire me if you want, Miles. I’m getting really tired of your constant threats. I did nothing wrong. If anything, I saved Jericho’s life. While apparently, nobody seems to think that it was a good thing that I did. If I had to do it again, I would without thinking twice."

"Of course, I’m glad that Jericho is alive. That isn’t what I’m saying at all."

"Then why is everyone like this because I carried a gun? Why is everyone upset with me? If I didn’t have the gun, Jericho would probably be lying in that park dead. Why is no one appreciating me?" I sigh exasperatedly. "God! You are all nuts."

"Watch your mouth with me, kid." He narrows his eyes.

I wince. "You’re all frustrating me. I acted the way I did out of instinct. I feel like I did what I should have done at that moment and I don’t get why you’re all pissed at me. It makes no sense."

I expect Miles to come back at me with some rude comment but he doesn’t. Instead, he falls silent and watches me then clears his throat. "Luca said you also shielded baby Reign."

"Of course I did." I wrinkle my brow. "He is my responsibility."

"Yes." He says quietly. "Some people would have run to save their asses. That I know."

I hold his gaze for a beat, not sure how to respond at first. "I...I would never do that. I’ll always protect the kid I’m watching first."

Miles slumps into one of the nearby leather chairs and rubs his face. He exhales harshly then glances up at me. "I’m grateful that you saved my son’s life and that of Jericho, Wesley. Thanks again for doing that."

His sudden change of demeanor surprises me. "Of course.

"I still insist that you are hiding something from me." He grimaces. "But whatever it is you are hiding from me; I hope that it isn’t anything to hurt me and mine. Apparently, it isn’t a grudge against those that I care about."

"No." I say quietly. I’m only here to take care of baby Reign. I’m here because you and Arlo needed my expertise. That’s it. I have no ulterior motives against you."

"So, you don’t deny that you are hiding stuff?" he narrows his gaze.

I hesitate at first. "Everyone has a past. What I’m not willing to share with you is my personal business. It has no bearing on my job here."

"It better not."

I shift uneasily. "You don’t always have to threaten me constantly. I think that I have proved to you time and again that I have your best interests at heart."

He grunts. He looks less aggressive than he was earlier. We seem to have reached a truce of some sort. I hope that’s the case. I can’t keep living with Miles’ constant threats.

"I’ll go and check on Arlo and baby Reign now, if it’s okay with you." I say then clear my throat. I also want to see, but I can’t tell Miles that. He doesn’t want me anywhere close to Jericho. But something compels me to go see him. I want to soothe his wounded pride a little.

It was hectic not talking to Jericho today. I hate how awful I was to him when all he was trying to do was connect with me. I feel like a complete idiot for rejecting his friendship, but at the time, Miles’ stern warning to keep away from Jericho had been burned in my brain. But now, I feel I need to ignore that warning and do what I feel is right. I want to comfort Jericho.

"You can go." Miles says distractedly.

I have no doubt that he is already plotting his revenge against the Sharks Clan. The fact that it was the Irish that made a move on Jericho unsettles me. The Sharks Clan and the Sawyer Clan often work as a pair. It makes sense that I wonder if my family was involved in the attack. If so, why? Why would the Irish mafia come against the Italian mafia?

I’m not sure where Jericho went after we got back. He isn’t with Arlo anymore. I search the house, peering at the windows and the ground below, but still, I see no sign of him. I wonder if maybe he went to his room to lick his wounds. Maybe. I get the idea that he is probably embarrassed at needing to be saved in the face of danger. I really wish alphas were less prideful. It brings problems where none are necessary.

Had our positions been reversed; I wouldn’t have resented Jericho for saving me. The point is to not die. But it is quite obvious that he is bothered that I acted fast to save him. What he doesn’t understand however is that my life was much harder and violent when I was younger. It is unlike his, because being that he was younger, he was more protected. Sasha took much of the brute.

Growing up, I was a part of the violence because Papa always thought that I was too soft. He didn’t shield or protect me from the bad stuff. I was forced to be in the mafia and live like them whether I wanted or not. It was never in my nature to be violent, but I did what I had to do to survive. I get the idea that Jericho isn’t naturally a violent person either. That is a plus in my eyes.

But not to Sasha or Miles.

I decide that the only way I’m going to be able to get through to Jericho is if I go up to his room. I make my way through the large house to the corridor up to the bedroom that I know belongs to him. I knock the door. My pulse races because I don’t know how he will react to seeing me, or even if he will bother to open the door and talk to me. Not after how coldly I talked to him today. I don’t expect much because I know that if I were to switch positions, I would be mad too. But one way or the other, I have to try and get him to talk to me.

He doesn’t answer the door immediately. I’m forced to knock again. I’m about to give up when the door slowly opens. Jericho stands at the doorway, wearing a brown silk robe. His hair is damp and he looks like he just groomed. The sight of him makes my pulse pick up. I’m really attracted to him, and that is a big problem.

Surprise paints his features when he sees me. Then after a few seconds, his face goes blank. "What?" he asks, not at all friendly like he was earlier.

His reaction makes my face warm. "Can I talk to you?"