Drugging them. Now it made sense. Abigail was too stubborn and mixed with a short fuse when it came to boundaries. She would have kneed him in the balls, and it would have worn on her like a gold fucking medal.
Girls like Abigail don’t get fucked over.
Standing up, I watched Oscar’s parents look not only mortified but embarrassed. Breezing by my own parents, my mother grabbed my hand with a stern look, trying to hold me back with just a tone to my name.
“Jason.”
It was going to take a lot more than my birth fucking name to stop me from what was about to happen. Abigail, tears in her eyes, begging me to let him live in fact, and even then it wasn’t a guarantee that I wouldn't kill him just to teach her a lesson in telling me when there was a problem.
He stuttered and tripped over all of his words as I got closer, rounding the table and fastening my hand down on the back of his neck as he tensed. “Let’s go talk about your little fucking project.”
Oscar had his hands up, terrified of me and what was coming. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
That’s where he was wrong. He did a lot wrong… and to me. That was a hard lesson to learn when you grew up in the lap of luxury and had friends in high places.
I didn’t let go until we were inside safely and pushing him as he slid against the rug crashing into the table sitting oddly right inside, like Vic’s parents were remodeling. I wasn’t complaining; the table broke his fall in a painful way.
Charging towards him, I did nothing but conquer the space between us with my arms folded against my body. “Not much else to say? Clave got your tongue?”
Oscar stood up with fear written all over his face when his words weren’t matching any of his expressions, “You can’t do anything to me, bro. I’m famous, and my parents are in the Clave… You want to be exiled?”
I had enough of playing with my food; my mother taught me to never do that. Now wasn’t a time to pick up bad habits.
I couldn’t tell if Oscar was this delusional or if he actually thought of himself as untouchable. It sparked an unforeseen laugh and smirk across my face. He had to be joking, and if he wasn’t, then I was some kind of dark.
My hand wrapped around his throat quickly, and I pushed him down against the table. “Do you think I give a fuck if you’re famous or who your parents are? Don’t cross a Rothschild.”
Choking on his own words he spat out, “What do you care? It’s just some girls!”
No justice crusader. He knew me enough to know I gave little, very little, fucks. The answer was easy when I made sure to find his eyes with mine: “Abigail.”
As I held Oscar’s throat tighter, Khaos didn’t make his presence known easily. I didn’t even know how long he had been there while I watched Oscar thrash around my grip.
“Bro… Come on. Just let him go with a warning. He’s not a threat.” Khaos stood right next to me, shoulder to shoulder, inspecting how long Oscar had to live if I didn’t loosen my grip. “Right, Oscar?”
I don’t know how he managed to shake his head with his hands clawing at my hand, but he did. The worst of mankind was resilient.
“Much more fun alive.” Khaos patted my back when he spun around to leave, and I heard him say, “Well, someone called Mom and Dad.”
Looking over my shoulder, I loosened my grip only for a moment, to see Vic and Bowen drawing the curtain before even saying a word.
“This isn’t some fucking group activity,” I barked. Oscar found some fight buried deep down when he fisted my shirt and took a swing. The distraction gave Oscar enough time to accelerate his fist forward and clip my lip. The fresh sting and metallic taste of pennies pulsed into my mouth.
Vic demanded answers, “What do you think you’re doing, besides embarrassing our families?”
Yanking Oscar up by his shirt, I turned my focus on Vic, standing toe to toe with him and his ego, which was somehow bigger than Oscar’s. Vic didn’t scare me. Nothing did.
Fisting his shirt, I couldn’t let him go, not with his sloppy fists.
“I’m fucked up. I’m aware, but what the fuck are you if you sit there with Abigail’s tits blown up on display?”
He didn’t back down. “I’m Clave. I don’t care about some secretary’s tits. You’re getting too close. How much have you told her, Grimm?”
My fists were so tight I felt them stuffed into the position I was okay with them being stuck in if it meant fighting my way through life.
Spitting in Vic’s face, I left my fists by my side until the tension came to a head.
Vic’s eyes fluttered closed as his fingers wiped down his face, trying to scrape the germs off that I just socked him in the face with.
It was worth it.
That’s the thing: When people are afraid of you, they’re unwilling to put you in your place. I wasn’t afraid of Vic, and he wasn’t afraid of me.
Holding Oscar in place, I swung my fist against the side of his face so hard I heard a crack under my knuckles before his body hit the table trying to break his fall again.
Unstable from the impact and already choking on his fear, I looked Vic in the eyes, challenging him to say shit to me.
I didn’t give a damn about myself, but when it came to Abigail, she was a different story. She was all I cared about, even if I was still unwilling to admit whatever that meant.
The air was left wordless, and I challenged any rebuttals when I helped Oscar up to only knock him down again. I couldn’t even tell you what my knuckles connected with when I hit him over and over as he coughed up blood. His mouth fell open, and I saw the red coating his teeth.
Somehow it wasn’t enough. My monster wasn’t satisfied.
Him dead wasn’t the goal. This was a strong message, a warning, unheeded that the next time I was in a room with him would go differently.
Leaving Oscar coughing up his pride and dignity, I leaned down fisting his hair, “I’m not having this conversation again. Stay away from Abigail.”
Standing up, I had all three of my brothers staring back at me, waiting for an explanation. I didn’t need them to actually ask for me to read that all over their face.
“Don’t fucking start. I don’t say shit about any of the shit you do.”
Khaos hissed a pensive look with his shoulders creeped up into a silent combative expression. “He’s Clave by extension, bro.”
“I’m just playing my part, right? Death.” Turning my back on them, Vic waited until he had the last word, the upper hand, the pussy way out when he shouted in my direction. “She’s not Clave, remember that.”
GRIMM
My hands on my steering wheel were covered in fresh abrasions and Oscar’s blood. I could feel my knuckles already sting with cuts and bruises blooming across the bones.
In the grand scheme of things, I was making Abigail proud, making a list, and crossing shit out like a professional. She loved her damn lists with her colored pens and coffee doodles in the corners.
The only other thing on my list was to talk to Abigail and make sure she too knew that she was being claimed by me. If everyone else knew, she should too.
The entire drive I blasted music with guys moving through melodies and screaming like a bad marriage, good and bad times, stuck together. I was chasing away the adrenaline with anything I could. I needed to burn it off before I saw Abigail.