The Four Brothers ~ Completed

Capítulo Sete: Os Irmãos

Tobias's POV:

She was half an hour late.

My jaw clenched as I studied the cold food in front of me. Damian and Sinclair were talking about the pickup in people trying to hire them for boring jobs. Zion was picking at his food as he answered an email.

"Sir, we couldn't find her." One of my servants whispered in my ear, trembling in fear. I arched an eyebrow but my face remained expressionless. I wasn't one for letting people know how I was feeling.

I cleared my throat, looking at Damian.

"I know you were the last one to speak to her. Where is she?" I asked calmly. Damian cocked his head with a frown, his eyes darkening at my emotionless tone.

"How'd you know that, you stalker? I dunno. She said she was going exploring." Damian said and then went back to shifting through his peas to find one to eat. My youngest brother was a strange one, that was for sure.

"I know everything that happens in my house." I told him, resisting the smug smile that wanted to curl my lips at the look of surprise on Damian's face.

"So why don't you know where she is?" Zion asked smugly, looking up from his phone for the first time. I growled at him under my breath, trying to reign in my temper. The last thing I needed to do was explode with a little girl in the house.

"Because my people were too busy trying to cook the dinner which you don't think is up to your expectations." I said, my eyes travelling down to look at his completely full plate pointedly. Zion cursed under his breath and moved his food around with his fork.

He wasn't a fan of being called out in front of people, which was amusing considering his profession.

He ran a computer security business or something like that. It was only a cover for what he was really doing. His company worked as a hacker-for-hire type thing. It made Zion one of the richest men in the world and made him the talk of the town every time he stepped foot outside his door.

Which was unfortunate since the press liked to dig into his family's past.

Gemma had been brought up once. Zion bankrupted the entire company in thirty minutes.

But the press wouldn't stop bugging me and Damian about our work.

I was pretty much a hermit to society. Damian was widely known as insane, which made sure people stayed off his back in fear. Everyone knew that Sinclair ran the biggest, most powerful motorcycle gang in the world. It was one of those things that no one talked about it.

In all reality, Damian and I couldn't have been farther than the pariahs that the press named us.

I ran the biggest, most powerful, most lethal Mafia in the world. Damian was a hit-man.

Needless to say, our family was complicated.

"Speaking of Gemma, don't you think you should be a bit nicer to her?" Damian asked me, looking at me expectantly.

I didn't know what he was talking about. I'd been perfectly polite. Maybe a little distant, a little cold, but polite nonetheless.

"I don't know what you mean." I said, holding my chin in my palm. My elbow was leaning against the armrest of the chair. It may sound cliche, but it was a rather good thinking position.

"You've been cold as ice to her since she's arrived. You all have, for that matter. But she thinks that you don't like her." Damian pointed out, glaring at me slightly. His glare was somewhat intimidating but I wasn't the one who would flinch away from such a look.

I wasn't one for being intimidated.

"I don't like her. She's an intruder. She doesn't belong." I said simply. It was the truth.

Gemma didn't belong to this cruel world we belonged to. It would only do her harm. And she would never be able to replace the family we lost in that car accident.

"She's an intruder? She's family, for God's sake. She's a chance for us to be a family." Sinclair finally spoke up. He was gripping the spine of his wine glass so tightly I thought that the glass might shatter.

"We will never be family to the likes of her. The only reason she's here is because she's blood." I told him, widening my eyes slightly so that my point would get across more clearly. Sinclair slumped in his seat, his leather jacket squeaking against the wood of the seat.

"She's family. She's Gemma. Nossa Gemma, nosso bebê. (Our Gemma, our baby)." Sinclair shook his head at me.

I knew she was ours, but she didn't look like it. She wasn't a baby anymore. She was grown up. We had missed everything.

"Ela não é mais um bebê. Não preciso lembrar que perdemos todos os seus preciosos anos de bebê. (She's not a baby anymore. I need no reminder that we lost all of her precious baby years)." Zion snapped at Sinclair, getting into the argument once more. He lived to antagonize people.

I could see Damian grow furious, his anger spreading over the room in a dark cloud.

"Cuidado com a língua, se você quiser mantê-la. (Watch your tongue if you wish to keep it)." Damian snarled, starting to stand up. Zion cocked his head, a smile twisting his lips in a cold way.

"Você está me ameaçando, irmãozinho? (Are you threatening me, little brother)?" Zion asked, still finding the situation funny. The creaking of the dining room door interrupted the entire conversation.

I sighed, ready to chew out one little girl for being almost fifty minutes late to dinner. But then I saw her face.

She was tired, exhausted really. She yawned and sat down in a random seat, where a server placed a plate of meat in front of her. She thanked him in a soft mumble before putting her head down on the table and starting to snore.

Her snore was the exact same as when she was six months old. A soft inhale followed by a whooshing breath out. I almost smiled as nostalgia washed over me. It was nice to be reminded of the good days, when I was an innocent child who wasn't involved with the Underworld of society.

"Who's gonna move her?" Sinclair asked suddenly, drawing attention to the immediate problem. No one moved.

None of us were brave enough for that task.