Page 61 of Splintered Desire

So why do I feel almost guilty?

Zela could have blown everything to pieces, but she didn’t.

Why?

“Let me fucking kill him,” Jace says as he moves into the den and collapses into one of the high-back chairs, the smile on his face morphing into something sinister.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to let him, but I bite it back. The last thing we need right now is more shit to handle, and Jace can be sloppy when he’s worked up.

“Have one of the guys keep tabs on him,” I say to Isaac as he finally strolls into the room, his usual indifferent mask in place, but even still, something feels off, though I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.

“If he so much as sends her a text or busts a nut to the thought of her, you can have him, Jace—” He cuts me off with a whoop of excitement, hopping out of his chair and pumping a fist in the air.

“Fuck yeah! He’s as good as mine. No way can he stay away from her. She’s magnetic.”

I ignore the way his words make perfect sense, instead staring him down as I say this next bit, needing him to understand.

“He stays alive, though Jace.” He whips his head toward me with a frown, and I know he’s going to fight; he always does. “Maim him, cut off his ear, burn his house down. I don’t care, just make sure he isn’t in it. We have too much to worry about right now. We don’t need to add handling a dead body and the fucking cops on top of it.”

He falls back into the chair with a huff, his arms crossed over his chest, pouting.

He’ll get over it; as much as I hate to admit it, I’m sure he’s right. This guy is as good as his new plaything because, for whatever reason, our sister is a fucking drug, and I’d put good money on the fact that this Josh wants her as more than a study buddy.

“We need to find a way to keep our dearest sister in line. Tonight was close, too close. She easily could have tossed everything on the table.” I drop into the chair behind my desk, my elbows propped up on the shiny wooden top, hands folded under my chin as I stare off in thought.

“Oh, I have an idea!” Jace’s face lights up, and I meet Isaac’s gaze across the room, where he still stands near the door.

We both know that whatever Jace has in mind is going to be overkill, but that might just be what we need to put her under heel.

“We need to discuss options, and I think it’s time we hashed out a few things about Zela and where it is that she disappears to on Saturdays.”

Isaac has our full attention now as we both wait for him to elaborate, and between him and Jace, I have a feeling I’m going to need a drink.

With any luck, this will be the last time Zela dares to defy me. I’m not sure how much more defiance I can take before I snap and teach her a lesson.

And I’m afraid that if I do that, I’ll never free myself from her.

Saturday

Pissed is a mild form of what I’m feeling, have been feeling all fucking night.

How dare they turn my dad against me, twisting shit to fit their narrative and Isaac…

I knew he wasn’t on my side, knew he would pick his brothers as he should, but fuck, it still hurt for some reason.

Stupid!

As if the universe is in agreement, I catch a wicked right hook to the side of my head that has me stumbling a few steps before I manage to get my feet underneath me again.

Fuck, that hurt, but as I shake away the black spots that dot my vision, I got the message.

Fight now; be pissed later.

Or at the very least be pissed and take it out on Widow; she fucking deserves it with the smug smile I can see through the lower bit of her mask.

“Our best, my ass! You’ve never been anything more than lucky,” she hisses, but I barely hear her over the screams and jeers of the crowd above us.

“Green isn’t a good color on you, Wid.” She fucking hates it when I call her that, which is exactly why I've called her that for the last three years.