Bad Wolf (Wild Men 4)

“Shut the fuck up. Two nights ago, when you were supposed to be the look-out while the deal went down. But you pushed me around, instead. Fucked me over. Hauled me out of the bar like I was some kid that you could boss around.”

“Stop—”

“And at the club it was the same thing. Let this girl go, Seb. Go find another, Seb. Come on, let’s go Seb. But know what? You don’t call the shots, Fen-boy. You’re just a bystander, an onlooker. A hired bodyguard. You haven’t even gone through the full initiation yet.”

I kick at him and manage to shake him off me. I draw shuddering breaths. “And yet I keep saving your skinny ass. So fuck you.”

He grabs my shoulders and slams me into the wall again, the pain barely registering in the rush of adrenaline in my blood. I manage to land a punch to his jaw, but he kicks at me, and my knee says enough, buckles and lands me on my fucking ass.

He prepares to kick me, but I roll over on the dirty sidewalk, and

I scrape my palms on the rough concrete as I make it back to my feet.

I launch myself back at him.

Red bathes everything—his face, his clothes, the concrete, my thoughts. Smell of urine, of danger. Sneering faces, teasing, prodding, daring me to hit them, to save myself. Chicken-shit, they cackle. Too chicken-shit to fight back.

A woman opens the building door cautiously, then closes it again as we elbow and push at each other, trying to land another punch.

Seb is taller than me, but lankier. I’m stronger than him, but it dawns on me as we grapple together that whatever he’s shot himself up with tonight has lent him a desperate strength. He puts his hands around my throat, and I push on his chin, kick at his shins and twist until I pin him against a wall.

“You motherfucker,” I spit out, panting, and with a last shove, get off him. “What the hell’s the matter with you? This ain’t funny.”

The red mist lingers even as I blink my eyes. Funny how the phantom stench remains even after my sight has cleared.

He wipes at his mouth. His lip is split, a thin trail of blood running down his chin, jagging its way through thick stubble. And he starts to laugh.

He lifts his hand, and I see my wallet dangling from his fingers. “How about you pay for what you did?”

Jesus fuck. “Gimme back my wallet, Seb.” I go after him, but he moves away, and he’s faster than me, because my knee is killing me even with the shot of adrenaline in my veins. “Don’t be such a fucking dick.”

He fishes out the bills and pockets them. “Payback.”

“What for?” I grab at my wallet, hissing when my knee almost folds. “You’re fucking high, Seb. When you crash back down, you’ll want someone to sweep up the fucking mess.”

“Piss off. I’m perfectly fine on my own.”

“That why you just stole my fucking money?”

He’s not laughing anymore. He wipes at his mouth and gets up, obviously none the worse for our scuffle. “You had that coming, Fen. You don’t get to order me around in front of the others.”

“You’re nuts.” The flashback isn’t over yet, the images, noises and smells from the group homes I passed through still coming and going, upsetting my sense of balance. The pain in my knee grounds me just as it pisses me off more. “Mav and Angel sent me to get you. I told you that.”

He gives me the finger as he walks away, leaving me standing over the sidewalk, the wallet in my hand and my groceries strewn all over.

Fuck. How did I lose control like that? I thought I had it under wraps. And what am I gonna do about my asshole brother?

The red mist and the feeling of danger linger as I watch him go, watch as he kicks at a trash can and lurches drunkenly.

Just… fuck.

Another Friday night rolls around, and I’m out in the cold, waiting outside a warehouse together with Angel, keeping guard while Mav conducts his usual business inside.

“So who was the girl?” Angel asks with a smirk, taking a silver flask from inside his jacket and unscrewing the top.

“What girl?” I mutter, although I know perfectly well.

“Your sister. I dunno, are you fucking with me?” He passes me the flask, and I wipe the mouth on my sleeve before taking a swig. Vodka. “The girl that other night, the one who was so excited to see you.”