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“That’s what I thought.”
“What the fuck, Grim?”
“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but Mark is your brother. Figure your shit out before the club has to do it for you. I promise you, Malice, you won’t like the outcome.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means…” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “It means that when a brother is hurting, we tend to take out the source of that pain. Right now, Mark is the source. I’d hate for the brothers who don’t know the full story to take it upon themselves to do you a… favor.”
That’s rich, coming from him. He doesn’t even know the full story. No one does. No one but two dead men and me.
I tried to tell my parents what happened that day in the church office. Ignoring Father Brine’s threat, I explained how scared I was, how scared Mark was. But they didn’t believe me. My parents were so caught up in wanting to be good Catholics that they couldn’t see what was happening right in front of them.
After that, I took whatever was dished out to me. I did it to protect Mark. And I kept quiet. Until the day that Matt, Mary, and John witnessed my nightmare in progress.
And yet, I still kept a lot of details back. It’s my burden to bear, not theirs. Never theirs.
“Get off me,” I snarl.
“Pretty sure that’s gonna cost you,” Grim retorts, grinning. “What’s it up to now? Hundred bucks if you don’t sign?”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”
“Two hundred.”
“Fuck you.”
“Three hundred.”
“The fine is only fifty bucks, asshole.”
He grins. “Four hundred.”
I lift my hands. “Not paying you shit.”
“You’re right. Fines are payable to the treasurer, which is Rogue, not me. I’ll let him know to expect the money.”
“Get off me.”
Grim hesitates but then removes his foot from my chest and steps to the side. He reaches to help me up, and I take his hand. Once I’m on my feet, he glares at me.
“Handle your shit, brother.”
I heave a sigh. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.”
“What do you suggest I do?” I counter. “Call him up and invite him to tea?”
“You do whatever it takes. He’s family. There was a time that meant something to you.”
“It still does.”
“Then act like it.”
Putting some distance between us, I return to the punching bag. “Are we done here?”
“For now. But I mean it, Malice. Figure it out. Soul and I hate seeing you like this.”
