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“Wrong answer,” Carbon sang, kicking his feet up on the bar.
“So, here’s what's gonna happen, Vick.” Grimm grabbed the man by the throat as I joined him. “First, you’re gonna hand over the keys to Sasha’s place.”
“Can’t,” Victor spat, squirming as Grimm’s hand tightened around his throat. “Rented it out.”
“You better hope to whatever Gods you pray to that her personal possessions are still there.” I growled, snapping the stick over my knee. The crack of the wood echoed round the room causing the man to flinch. “‘Cause we’re here to get her things.”
“See, while you were draining your own stock,” Grimm continued in a deceptively mild rumble while lifting the snarling human off his feet and slamming him into the mirror behind the bar. Bottles and glassware rained down, exploding as they hit the ground. “The Soul Reapers came into possession of a raven-haired spitfire. Can you think of who that might be?”
“Might want to give him a hint, Prez.” Carbon picked at his nails with the tip of one of his blades, content to let Grimm and I take care of the shitstain of a human. “Don’t reckon he’s connecting all of those dots you’ve laid out for him.”
I shoved the jagged edge of my broken pool cue into the man’s crown jewels, drawing a fresh grunt of pain, while Grimm kept the rat pressed up against that back mirror with his feet kicking uselessly off the ground.
“Keys are in the drawer,” Uncle Vick wheezed, his face turning a satisfying shade of pain as he clawed at my alpha’s unyielding hand. “Take whatever you want. Just, please, don’t hurt me.”
“Yeah,” our Enforcer drawled. “There’s about zero precent chance of that, moron.” Carbon examined his handiwork in the low light of the bar. “Huh. Think I finally got Mr. Rodgers out from under my nails.”
I chuckled as Victor started to really fight, finally catching on that much more than his pride was at stake. I leaned in close, easily clearing Grimm’s shoulder, with a feral smile plastered on my face.
“Let me spell this out for you, Uncle Vick. Real slow. I’m going home to my mate with your blood on my hands.” His face was taut with pain and his bloodshot eyes were rolling in fear. “And do you know what he’s gonna do?”
Victor shook his head just a tiny bit.
“He’s gonna get down on his knees and suck my cock, thankful that I took care of a shitstain like you.”
I dug the broken end of the cue a little harder into his soft and squishies, pulling a groan from his twisted lips.
At my nod, Grimm dropped him to the floor. The crunch of glass was overshadowed by the man’s desperate gasp for air and his howl of pain as he landed on his hands and knees in the debris. I crouched beside him, pressing the cue under his chin and forcing his head back up so I knew I had his attention.
“Here’s the thing, Uncle Vick,” I sneered. “Little Sasha? My beast has claimed her. She’s mine now. Family.” Grimm’s lethal rattle joined the one emanating from my chest while Carbon grunted in agreement. “And that means she’s Soul Reaper property. Unlike rats like you, we wolves take care of our own.”
I stood in a liquid fast movement and delivered a swift kick to his gut, cracking his ribs and sending him flying back into the wall. I followed it with another then backed off, leaving him to slide back down to the floor.
“Keep her,” Uncle Vick sneered. “That bitch is more trouble than she’s worth anyway.”
Grimm didn’t say a word, just stomped his foot down on the man’s hand as he tried to crawl away. It made a nice crunching sound as my alpha ground it down into a handful of glass.
“Fuuuuuck.” Victor howled, clutching his fractured hand. “What do you want from me?”
“We want you to beg,” I replied. “Do you know what happened to Sasha with the Bone Crushers? Do you even care what happened to your little sister’s daughter?”
“Didn’t want no kids.”
Victor went back to crawling toward the end of the bar, probably where he kept his gun. Carbon was faster, though. He filled the space at the end, waggling a finger at Uncle Vick like he was telling off a naughty pup.
The man sagged as his brain caught up through the pain. There was nowhere left to go. He settled back against the wall in between us, clutching his broken, bloodied hand and glared at us.
“Listen up, you piece of filth, ‘cause I ain’t gonna say it twice.” The Prez bent low and grabbed the front of the man’s shirt. “The Goddess gave us strength, not so we could hurt those weaker than ourselves—” he drew back his fist and blasted it across Victor’s jaw, “—but so we could protect them.”
He broke Victor’s nose with his next blow.
“Shits like you, who hurt the ones under your protection? Well, you’re worth less than an ant beneath my boot.” Grimm stood back up, Uncle Vick still held fast in his fist by the shirt, though his head was flopping about on his shoulders by this point as the Prez shook him. “And do you know what happens to that ant?”
“Just take the damn keys,” the man moaned.
Blood and spittle dripped down his chin and dripped to the floor, his nose a bloody mass in the center of his head.
“Oh, we’ll take the keys, but we’re not leaving just yet.” Grimm shoved the man into my chest. “See, my Sgt. at Arms had something to say to you as well. He’s all yours, Mongrel.”
