Cunt.
He was already becoming more work than I was willing to get into bed with. I’d find him. None of the horsemen were going to show their faces at work today; they were all taking part in some bullshit Clave business I didn’t care about.
All off limits. All busy.
Shooting Khaos a text, he would be the least invested, probably leaning against something with a joint and ripped up shirt, just to make it more obvious how little he in fact cared.
ME: I need Oscar’s location.
It took him no time, literally, to respond. He was exactly what you expect, what met the eye: Khaos with a taste for rebellion.
KHAOS: Easy, a couple feet away from me.
ME: Where are you?
KHAOS: I don’t like your tone of voice… Maybe you need to chill out before making harsh decisions.
ME: You’re fucking Khaos, literally. Address.
KHAOS: Bro. Just calm down. He was just trying to prove himself worthy. You know he’s a bitch.
Holding my phone and tightening my grip, I wanted to break it before I even got an address. Khaos knew what Oscar was doing.
Maybe not to who.
Maybe he didn’t see doing that to Abigail would ripple to affect me.
If he did know, I couldn’t be responsible for the monster’s judgment when he was so clearly dripping in guilt by association.
ME: Address. Now.
KHAOS: 22 Bleecker Street. Vic’s parent’s place.
I had never driven so recklessly on Mulholland Drive as I did then. The winding road tested my tires, the low stance of my expensive car, and the paint job now covered in dirt, but it was worth not missing the fucking brunch where he would be.
Clave business.
It was all bullshit. Members rubbing elbows and showing off for Zeus and his right-hand man. Saving face and kissing ass like a true brotherhood of cult members.
Vic’s parents were probably the most modest of the four families and look how that turned out. They made him feel normal enough he spat and pissed on the world for not giving him more.
Their house, not small by any means, sat tucked behind the 90210 zip code like the traditionalists they were.
Old money.
Old rituals.
Old rules.
We all had them; the Rockefellers were just less morally inept and holding onto whatever normal was left being a part of this cult.
Slamming my car door shut, I looked at the driveway, shaking my head at its emptiness. You’d expect cars when someone was having a get together. Not this crowd. They all had drivers who dropped them off and returned when signaled.
Fucking elitism bullshit.
We ring, and you come running. If you don’t…? Well, there’s always someone who will serve.
I felt like a caged goddamn animal—a full blown monster with no Grimm or Jason in my sight. As I walked around the house to the backyard where I knew brunch was, I could hear the fake laughter in the high-pitched muffled tones, because even in privacy among their own people, emotion was weak.
Speaking of weak, I spotted Oscar instantly. He was wearing a pink button-down shirt with khakis and boat shoes, walking around with his ego on display for everyone.
Hollywood’s golden boy was a real piece of shit plated in gold.
I didn’t care who he was. He took pictures of Abigail while she was sleeping—the one woman not afraid of me. The one woman who saw my truth and didn’t blink an eye when she asked me what kind of monster I am. The woman that made it hard to care about the countless other defenseless women when it was only her I was focused on.
Everyone was still sipping on their morning-appropriate alcoholic beverages while socializing, which meant the bell had not yet rung for everyone to take a seat. Khaos was standing, smirking, and holding a fucking Blue Ribbon can near the pool, tossing his gaze between Oscar and me.
Not making a single move, I stood out of sight, watching Oscar boast about becoming part of the Clave, how his time was finally here, and how his parents were finally giving him the stage to present all this bullshit. He spoke to almost everyone before Vic’s mom stood at the table with a bell beckoning everyone over.
Khaos bumped into me on purpose as I came out of the shadows of watching my prey, who was acting as if no kind of guilt or virtues existed inside him.
A kind of monster the Clave wanted me to be.
“Causing trouble, Grimm?”
I made sure to sit across from Oscar, watching his features fall at the sight of me. We all grew up together, but the one obvious divide between us and him was our last names. Our last names were put on a pedestal, while his family only longed to be considered more prestigious.
Answering Khaos delayed, I kept my focus on Oscar, “Just getting to the bottom of something. I hear Oscar here is a photographer.”
Vic’s stepmom interrupted him from responding, but not before I saw the fear creep up his neck in a brushed red for someone with no conscience. If we were honest, he had always been a little afraid of me, and it was working to my advantage.
Most people were afraid of me.
Vic’s mom, Angela, was of German descent and didn’t take any bullshit. Not long after his birth mom left the polar opposite showed up in her place.
She was a blonde push over, oblivious to the Clave and only listened to Vic’s dad, Emmett, like the manipulative player she is. Emmett, who was just as German as Vic’s birth mom and just as stern. It was no wonder Vic was rebellious in a spoiled-ass way.
Best of both worlds.
“Everyone, while breakfast is served, Oscar would like to bend your ears. He is hoping to prove himself worthy of the cause and walk in the Clave’s light.”
Angela sat down gracefully before tossing back the rest of her drink when Oscar’s reaction to her announcement felt genuinely innocent. The ear-to-ear grin and low fist pump was enough to show his excitement.
Sitting back with my balled up fists against my thighs, Khaos twisted his entire body to follow Oscar, who was headed to the head of the table where a projector sat further back.
What the fuck? Was this some kind of PowerPoint for how much we should welcome this fucking idiot with open arms? Was everyone drunk already?
Holding a small remote, the screen came to life behind him with photos I recognized. I felt something in me drop, but I knew it wasn’t my empty stomach or the tingling in my legs cementing me to my chair. Maybe this was my heart dropping so hard it destroyed everything on the way down.
Oscar pressed a button on the remote to click through the photos when he stopped on Abigail, topless with her blankets pushed down to her hips sloppily and the small shorts she was sleeping in riding up, giving you a view of her ass perfectly. He stopped on the one woman I was here to protect like he was taunting me.
Did he know Abigail worked for me? Did he know that was exactly why I was here?
“I’ve been working on a little side project to show you guys I’m ready for the responsibility.” Turning back to look over his own shoulder at his handy work I cringed, trying not to make a move just yet. I needed to hear this, unlike the valet I offed without the information I needed.
He continued when Khaos leaned forward breaking my concentration, “She looks familiar, right?”
I could feel his smirk when he squeezed my shoulder tightly before sitting back, and my focus was being pieced together again. Oscar was still peacocking about his latest infarction. “I was able to drug people, sneak in, and sneak out to get these photos. I’ve been perfecting it for a year now, trying to make sure I was just stealth enough.”