Unwritten Rules (Filthy Florida Alphas 3)

“I know she’s younger than Dawg. I know that you have her tending to all those fucking kids like a damn slave. Fuck, half of those kids aren’t even yours,” he growls wiping the blood from his lip and succeeding for a minute, but only a minute because more keeps coming.

“They are mine.”

“Fuck. You took most of them in, knowing it wasn’t you who made them. Treated those whores like you thought they were worth something. Which is fine. You want to claim a hundred kids that you didn’t father, then whatever, but you don’t need to pass them off to Toi to take care of. She deserves better!” he growls and then he throws a punch.

I don’t dodge this one. I’m frozen, because his words surprise me. I didn’t realize my brothers knew that most of my children weren’t mine. Hell, even the twins aren’t mine biologically. At least that’s what the mother said. But they needed me and the mother was a fucking dime-bag whore. So I took them. Same with the others. Shit. If I want to be technical, the only child I’m sure I fathered was Maxwell. It doesn’t matter. I love them all and I claimed them the moment I knew they were growing. The kids don’t know, and I’ll never tell them. I’m their father and I dare anyone to tell them differently.

I fall back a few steps with the savagery of Ghost’s hit. Now he’s drawn blood too, but he drew more than me. The blood he drew isn’t visible, but it’s there. There’s only three people—besides the women involved—who know I didn’t father most, if any, of the children. They are people who I trust—or trusted—with the secret. At this point, I doubt it would hurt the older kids, but it might destroy Harley and Desi. I don’t like that my secret is out and eventually I will find out how the motherfucker knows. Right now, I just want him to hurt.

I push myself up and I throw a punch connecting with his stomach, and then another, another, and yet another. I let my rage fuel me. I try to concentrate in the area of Ghost’s ribs and I attack him as if my life depended on it. He gets in a few good punches of his own—enough that I know I’ll be wearing bruises tomorrow.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” I warn him, though the words come out ragged and winded as we continue our fight. “Those are—” I take a deep breath and deliver one more shot, this one harder, meaner, and aimed for the fuckers face. I uppercut him and it’s so hard he instantly drops, his face going to the side at an odd angle. “—my children!” I growl with the hit, anger vibrating through me. I stand over Ghost and he’s out. He’s moving his head but he’s definitely down. I spit at the ground as blood begins to pool into my mouth. “You don’t talk about my kids. You don’t know jack shit, and you don’t go spouting off about them. Fuck, you know nothing about when it comes to my life,” I warn him and he better fucking listen. The next time I’ll end the motherfucker. No one brings my kids up in this shit. No one.

I rub the back of my hand against my busted lip, looking down at Ghost. He stares at me, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s taking my warning in. He fucking better.

“Marcum, man,” Topper says. He’s standing at the door.

“Motherfucker, doesn’t anyone know what stay the fuck out of this means?” I growl, turning to look at him.

“I hear you, dude, but we have a situation.”

“What in the hell is it now?”

“Harley and Desi are upstairs in Toi’s room and Harley, man, he’s freaking out.”

“Fuck…”

“It gets worse, man. Cherry is with them.”

“I told you sorry fuckers she wasn’t to get around my kids,” I growl, grabbing my cut and throwing it on, leaving my rings where they are. Even now, my knuckles are swelling.

“That’s just it, man. We were keeping Cherry under control. Harley followed String down the hall and we didn’t know it until it was too late.”

“Fuck. I should fucking beat every one of you dumbasses,” I growl, perhaps unfairly. Right now, however, I don’t give a rat’s ass about being fair. I take off toward Toi’s room, hoping I can stop it before whatever is going on becomes a shit storm.42Toi“What’s going on?” I ask, but with my voice you can barely hear it over Desi’s crying.

“Can’t hear you, honey. Oh, that’s right, your voice is broken,” Cherry says and she smiles like she’s being friendly, but I see the spitefulness in her eyes.

“Toi’s not broken!” Desi argues, holding me closer, her little hands wrapped around me and linked at my neck. I pat her on the back and try to soothe her as best I can.