by Elena Monroe
Shouting for Grimm, I heard footsteps in the doorway that had stopped short. “I need to borrow your phone!”
“For what?” He crossed his arms, already sure he wasn’t going to oblige.
“I need to call Jus.” No point in sugar-coating it.
Khaos was licking up Claudia’s spine, just before he emptied all over her ass, and we spoke around him, like they weren’t there at all.
Khaos was still riding high when his groggy voice filled the tension filled room. “Not a good idea, man. Just give it up already. She knows everything. She’s gonna need time to process the part you played in her parents’ death.”
Shooting up from my back, I stood up, still shirtless with my dress pants still gaping open. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on, Grimm. He’s gotta find out some time or wonder the rest of his life…” Khaos leaned down for Claudia to kiss his cheek, and she scampered off to the bathroom.
“Find out what?” My voice demanded answers, and I wasn’t finding any in Grimm’s expression that was telling Khaos to stop.
Grimm sighed heavily, with his arms still folded. “You killed her dad. We were kids, and you wanted to help when her parents got out of their grip.”
Storming towards him, I grabbed his shirt in my fists and pushed him against a wall. “What did you say?” I barked inches from his bored expression that was only making me more angry.
“We were kids when we snuck out that night. You probably thought it was a game and wanted to get another gold fucking star from Daddy.”
My ability to breathe was staggering downhill fast. I was gulping in the air and heaving still for more, letting his words sink in.
The distant memory in countless wins flooded back, and the anger rose up from inside me again—this time, only worse.
“Don’t forget his parents then killed her mom. That was their target all night…” Khaos was adding fuel to the flames, and I was going to hold him accountable later.
Turning all my focus to Grimm, I pushed him out of the doorway and shoved him so hard I watched his body trip down the small set of stairs, landing on the dirt.
“You fucking knew? You knew what I did and who she was? You let me fall in love with her anyways?!” Stomping towards him, he stood up pulling his hoodie off and slamming it down.
“No one thought you’d fall in love. We didn’t even know that you forgot, until you were hellbent about her folder once it was empty. We purposely removed it, and your ass still went hunting.” Grimm’s voice was steel and unbreakable.
My fist flew into his nose with force, as a grueling punishment for betraying me, underestimating me, and worst of all, doubting my ability to fall for the idea of happiness.
“Fuck you!” I shot at him as he absorbed the punch and speared me to the ground with my wounded arm caught between us, hurting like a bitch.
On the ground, feeling the pinch of rocks and sticks, he punched me, and I felt it radiate through my face when the taste of blood soured my mouth.
Fighting my way to the top, I punched him in the ribs, knowing he had cracked them before Abigail showed up. It’d be a miracle if they were one hundred percent healed.
Taking down our enemies requires a knowledge of weaknesses—where your troops can do the most damage with the least amount of effort.
Wincing, I knew I picked the right strategy, as always, when I mustered up all the moisture in my mouth and spit on him, the same way he did to me at brunch. Squatting down, admiring my handy work, I whispered, “Don’t ever fucking spit on me again, Reaper.”
Sitting up, he used his hoodie to wipe the spit off the side of his face. “Now we’re even then. Don’t forget it.”
Dropping down next to him in the dirt, I stuck my hand out, waiting for him to hand me his phone that he now willingly gave up. “I prefer this authentic version of you better. No more fucking masks.”
I didn’t even see Khaos making grass angels until he spoke, snapping my head towards him: “It’s Vicy the Hippie to you, sir!”
I knew Grams’s phone number by heart, since we had been speaking almost every day. I needed to get my fix of her granddaughter somehow.
Dialing the number, I got up, heading into the woods, looking for service, and thinking about what I was about to do.
Accountability is a bitch. I was either going to take some or become one, and I wasn’t a bitch.
The phone rang against my eardrum, and the soft voice that I knew didn’t take any shit answered, before immediately coughing up a storm. “Grams, you okay?”
“It’s late. You must’ve figured it out. Took you long enough.” Her voice was husky from the coughing, and something inside my chest pinched, because I appreciated her all too late. “You have something to ask me?”
I was breathing through the tears forming in my eyes, blurring the scenery together. “I’m so sorry for your loss and that I was the one who made that a reality for you…”
There was no strength left in me anymore. I was a war on someone’s doorstep, and now I had to be accountable for the pain that it resembled for someone else. It was a battlefield of dismemberment.
“I need you to forgive me…”
I ruined their lives. Would it have happened without my help? Yes, but my conscience wouldn’t be as stained. That cross would be someone else’s to bear.
“What’s done is done. All you can do is repent and move on with your life. Now I have a confession too. I need you to hear me, Vic.”
I held everything in me at a standstill, waiting for her to confess to whatever she thought amounted to the same amount of Hail Marys.
She cleared her throat, speaking almost in a whisper, “I don’t have much longer, and I need you to be prepared. Justice isn’t the type to sit pretty and cry. She’s going to push you away and fight every step of mourning me, but when she finally accepts the fact that I’m gone, I give you permission to ask her to marry you.”
I swallowed hard, taking in death in this new way that wasn’t at our hands. I cared about Grams in a way that was just as authentic as my new personality, because she was part of the life I was building outside of the Clave’s walls.
“She’s never going to forgive me…” I felt the weight of that never happening, and now the last link keeping us connected was breaking.
“You aren’t taking no for an answer. I know men like you; you don’t quit.”
I heard Justice in the background shouting for Grams, and I clamped my eyes shut, focusing on that mix of raspy and smooth she was able to perfect. Grams didn’t even need to say, “I’ve got to go.” I knew the drill. When she walked in, we had to stop talking. Justice had no idea we talked, and it was better that way.
Holding the phone to my lips, I took a moment to soak in everything Grams told me and headed back towards the cabin in the pitch black woods, looking for the lantern outside to show me the way.
Hour six of whatever drug I was on was roaming wild in my system, awakening emotions that I never got to experience from a missed childhood.
Walking up to the cabin, I spotted Grimm and Khaos sitting on the steps, across from our dads. Grimm was hunched over, babying his ribs in a way I almost felt bad about.
Suddenly the oxygen depleted from the air, and the choking hazards they warn you about when taking drugs were becoming a reality.
“He’s soft, Rockefeller. He’s not Horsemen worthy anymore, and we need to admit that,” Grimm’s dad said, and I was still in the shadows enough to hear without being seen.
“Not everyone can be as ruthless as a Rothschild. I’ll handle my own son.”
My father has never defended me, and hearing him do it now felt like an insult.
It didn’t matter who I was, if I wasn’t ruthless like a Rothschild.
“What’s going on?” My voice was questioning, not showing the strength I revered myself with previously. I was losing every battle in my life, and it was making me feel as tarnished as a loser.
“T
he prodigal son returns. Wonder what he was up to with that phone. Probably signaling his girlfriend that we were out of the way.
I didn’t rat out Grimm or even hand the phone back the way I wanted to. I simply took it. Never have before, but Justice was making it much easier to do.
Take my licks.
Even giants fall.
My dad stood taller, with his eyes fixed on mine. “There’s been more attacks. This is a deliberate move against all four families. This needs to be handled, Victory.” He only paused for a moment before continuing, “They will be taking over the Grove in our absence. We’re going back to the city… now.”
I didn’t even argue or defend myself. I was defeated, and there was no point complaining.
All I felt was the mounting pressure of emotions that I kept pushing down, trying to avoid dealing with them.
I followed my father to the van that was sitting on the one trail in all these woods, waiting just for us.
Climbing inside, I knew he was about to rip me a new one. He thought I was to blame for the attacks on our families, which fell under death before dishonor—the rule my family contributed to the Clave.
The long ride down to the parking lot was silent in an eerie way that had my mind spinning and my chest hurting. I wanted to cry and scream at the same time.
I wasn’t used to either.
My father practically sped his way to his Rolls-Royce that I was only now noticing had seen better days.
“Get in the damn car, Victory.” His words were a press junket on top of a loss.
Shouting back towards him, “I love her! I’m not doing whatever comes after this fucking car ride.” I felt the stream of tears soaking my cheeks unwillingly.
A car between us was the only reason his ring wasn’t grazing my face for the upteenth time in my life.
He rounded his car, and to my surprise, my body tensed as he got closer, pulling me against his chest. “Finally, Victory, you know the difference between winning and winning for yourself.”
Still tense, I was waiting for the insult or backhand, when he let go of me. “We can’t talk here. Get in.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not hurting her. You can kill me if you have to. At least my life wouldn’t have been a waste.”
Grabbing the back of my neck, he pushed me into his car. “They’re watching… Get in the fucking car before you force my hand in a way I’ll regret.”
Making sure he knew I was uninterested in what he had to say, I kept my eyes on the window and ignored him. Starting his car, we pulled away with force, almost like he couldn’t wait to put the Grove behind us.
“My car isn’t bugged. We can talk here. You aren’t killing anyone. Not her, she’s your greatest opponent, but we have to move carefully.”
Snapping my gaze to my left, I analyzed him for a trap, but his body was more relaxed than I had ever seen. His mask was off, and the man sitting next to me wasn’t the man I grew up with as my father.
Everything made sense now, even the way he was faking being the persona I knew as ruthless, every piece of him was rich but something told me he would rather be surrounded with the poor.
Is that where all their money went? Buying redemption?
Unbuttoning his shirt at the top, my mouth fell open wordlessly. “What the fuck is going on?”
Really I meant, what the fuck is wrong with you?
“You have a lot to learn about conquest. You need to pay attention to your enemies before you defeat them.”
“Fight your enemy where they aren’t. I know,” I snapped, still navigating the shift in my father’s personality.
“You thought I was hard on you because you weren’t good enough? No. I was hard on you because I wanted you to be okay losing, if it meant winning your own happiness.”
I was still too shocked to speak that his stiff hand choice of fatherhood was really just as fake as I was being by filling the shoes of their cult darling.
My ability to wear a mask so well was a part of my DNA. It all made sense; my dad had passed it down to me like a bad gene.
“If you’re serious about keeping her alive, then you need to get her to do a blood oath… Only our bloodlines are untouchable and right now she’s two feet between the truth and our lies. Zeus wants hard truths only - either with us or against us.” His whole demeanor had changed, becoming even more at ease, like being himself was so simple.
Why couldn’t he pass that down instead?
JUSTICE
Dropping my duffle at the door, I shouted for Grams as I made my way through her cozy farmhouse that screamed goals. I idolized my Grams in every way, and couldn’t wait to embody everything she was.
Unique.
Tough.
Happiness untouched by anyone else. It was self-propelled.
My eyes darted around the kitchen for Grams, trying to follow her voice that had already faded out. Standing at the edge of the island, I saw Grams on the floor, and I rushed to her side, helping her frail body up.
“Help me to the couch…?” She held onto me with a thunder grip as I held on just as tight.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins was just attacked by the worry I didn’t think I should have.
How long has Grams been this sick? How long has she been hiding it from me?
Lowering her down onto the couch, I was still clutching onto her arm, realizing she was the last person I had on this earth.
Last person who shared my last name.
Last person I trusted.
Last person who loved all of my fucked up flaws.
Once she was sitting down, still wincing, I knew that meant she would have a black hole sized bruised the next day. Finally letting go of my arm, she looked over her shoulder at the bookshelf behind the couch and pointed. “Hand me the basket on that shelf, Jus.”
There was a small basket on the shelf that looked out of place, and I hadn’t noticed it before. There was a lot I hadn’t noticed in my fit of rage and revenge, trying to ignore the fact that Vic exists in the world as my opposite simply for balance.
That’s what we were: opposites.
He was the ruthless, morally corrupt, version of me.
All his non-stop texts and pleas for me to respond flooded my mind without the taste of revenge on my tongue anymore. I was seeing them untainted now as I reached for the basket to pull down.
The small basket was filled with papers and a manila folder on top holding it all down. I placed it on the tops of her thighs, sitting back down in a chair further away. Something about this moment told me to give the bomb some space to blow up.
“I’m dying, Justice. I wanted to protect you for as long as possible. I know how fragile you are, but I need you to be prepared.” Her hands carefully unpacked the loaded basket.
A thick folder folded down the center.
My mom’s necklace I thought was gone.
Legal papers I didn’t want to read, confirming that she was preparing to die.
“What do you mean dying?” I shot up, unable to sit anymore with the truth.
“Justice… You can't fight everything all the time. I've lived a long life, and your pranks to get even aren't making it any longer." She gave me that disapproving stare that I knew all too well. I was never the kid who behaved, who you didn't have to worry about, or the kid you could simply turn a blind eye to. I was the kid who would be standing next to the disaster, smiling like I was proud of my handy work.
"You aren't dying. You aren't even sick. If you were sick, you'd tell me. You're all I have left, and you wouldn't hide something like that from me."
For someone her age, being sick, her voice got so loud I felt it punch my chest, not helping the sting forming behind my eyes and the moisture flooding my vision. "Sit down, Justice! You're going to listen to me if it's the last thing I get to do with my life."
Slumping down in my chair, I held my jaw tight and kept my eyes on the hardwood floors. If I looked at her, I wouldn't see my strong, fei
sty, bad-mouthing Grams; I would see a frail woman who was dying and I was the horrible person who didn't notice.
She continued after my silence swelled in the air, not letting up, "Why are you still doing all of this? Why are you sneaking out and targeting these men?"
"They killed your daughter. My parents. They deserve to be scared for once, instead of scaring everyone else into silence. This is what I do: Fight for what's right. It's what you taught me to do." My teeth were grinding, and my jaw was still tense when I bit off my words.
"You need to forgive. You need to stop fighting so much. You need to stop pushing Vic away." She pushed my mom's locket necklace across the table, forcing my eye towards her—a necklace I thought was lost. I fished my matching locket out of my shirt and rubbed my fingers along it. The smooth heart shape with a peace sign engraved on the back, like family was the ultimate kind of peace.
Too bad I didn't understand how that felt and probably never would.
Grams is all I had, and now she was one foot out the door.
"Vic? Excuse me? How did you even get Mom's necklace back?" I stood up again, furious now that she had the nerve to say his name in my presence.
He was a murderer still on trial, and I hadn't slammed my gavel with a judgment to pass.
"Vic’s father sent it years ago, after your parents died… I’ve been saving it for you until you were ready to forgive. You weren't easy as a teenager either, Justice. He was just a boy when that happened. What if people held the trouble you caused against you today?"
Vic’s dad.
The same person who made sure that file was dropped in my lap.
The same person responsible for the kind of indestructible machine that Vic is.
The same person who was never punished for what he had taken from me.
"I didn't kill anyone! Am I in the Twilight Zone? He's in a fucking cult, drinking the Jonestown Kool-Aid, and he kills people for fun!" Stomping my way to the kitchen, I needed to breathe some fresh air. All that was in that room was toxic and full of things I wasn't ready to face.
Grams came up behind me, leaning against the island, and she let her voice get a dangerous kind of soft. "Justice… He's good for you. Vic lets you push him, but he never moves. He's been calling me every day to check in on you. I don't want you to be alone in this world without me."
