Azriel
He had not had the chance to clean the blood off his scarred hands before he was summoned by his brother. Rhys had stressed that it was urgent, and Azriel knew better then to question him. Rhys was only ever serious when he needed to be, and Azriel knew better then anger him when he was. He had watched Cassian do it enough times to understand that it wasn't truly worth it, especially when he didn't have the energy for a fight. Not after he spent the better half of his day with his trusty knife and a captive from a rival gang.
His ascent up the stairs was quiet, so much so that it had startled the workers in the kitchen. Azriel offered them a simple head nod before grabbing a towel from the nearest countertop. He proceeded to make his way into the sitting room, sleeves of his button up rolled and wiping whatever blood off that he could.
Upon entering the sitting room, he began to scan the room for all who was there. Eyes first meeting with Cassian, one of his brothers, and then meeting with the other. A smile slid onto Rhys' face as Azriel watched the man's eyes drift down to his bloody hands. "You couldn't bother to clean up? We have ladies present," Rhys said with his ever-present casual drawl.
"You made it seem urgent," Azriel noted as he looked down at the dried blood he had been trying to rub off. He continued to scan the faces, landing on those of three familiar women in his family. "I doubt they care regardless," he had begun, his words trailing off quietly toward the end as he finally reached the two women in the corner. They were new, though not unknown. No one in this entire continent was unknown to him.
Regardless, he was not who they had meant when he made his generalization.
No, it had been Mor and Amren that he was referencing. The two of them had seen more bloodshed than most of the men within their gang. Even Feyre, Rhys' new wife, was bound to be used to the site of it by now. However, these two? These two have probably never seen someone as horrifying as him.
He had known of them, as he had known of everyone. Knew they were Feyre's sisters, and whom their father had been. He wasn't in the gang business, not like Az's own family, but was known well enough. The prince of merchants. He controlled over half of the trade and was connected to most every business. Az's research on the man ran deep. He knew of the fortune his family passed down, and how the man had lost it and then regained it again. He knew of his secrets and the things he hid deep inside.
Though, it was not abnormal for Az to know of these things. To know of everything and everyone was the job given to him by Rhys once he rose to the top. It was his job, and one he was damn good at.
Thus, he knew of the sisters. His research on them wasn't as plentiful as that of their father, as he never saw the purpose of it. They weren't involved in the deals and the business, at least not yet, and thus they were deemed irrelevant. All he knew of them was what Feyre had asked him to keep tabs on once she joined the family. It was the normal things such as marriage prospects and their well-being. He had decided it was invasive to dig any deeper.
Now, there they stood. Huddled in the corner looking upon his bloody, scarred hands and probably feeling terrified of him. That was good. They should be scared of him, of what those hands have done and will continue to do.
A sense of tension drifted down his arm and into his fingers as both hands clutched into fists. He would have never come up like this if he had known they had company, and he was cursing Rhys for putting him in this position. He made sure to send him a look expressing just that.
"Now that we are all here," Rhys had continued, not making note of the expression on Azriel's face or how he went to hide his hands behind his back. "Nesta and Elain are moving in with us." Azriel couldn't help the way his eyes flickered to them, noting the way tears had stained Elain's face. Nesta, of course, looked as angry as she always had. It made him wonder what had happened and note that he would have to ask Rhys about it later.
"They will be in this house?" Cassian asked, eyes moving to the blood on Azriel's shirt. A spot he didn't notice was there until Cassian had looked.
"They will be in this house." Rhys said, an edge to his voice that Azriel could not quite place. Az watched the way Rhys looked to his bride before back to the room, "Which means all of our business here will be moved to the office."
Azriel hated the office. The office was too busy for his work, too many people listening. The office was known, the basement in this estate was not. The basement was safe, it was better. He preferred the basement.
"Must we?" the words came out angrier than he had hoped, more of a bite then he had cared to use.
"This is not a discussion," Rhys said back, a muscle in his jaw setting with his tone. Azriel knew better then to argue with that tone.
Az didn't bother to reply, but rather turned his back and walked away. He could feel his families' eyes as they bore into his back, watching him step away and back into the basement. He didn't care if it angered them, didn't care how they felt about it. He had business left unfinished, so he went back to the basement. Back to his knife.