by Elena Monroe
Well, not right now. Now I was alone, like it was a test of my will or survival skills.
“He just needed a date. I’m just a secretary, Oscar.” I tried to keep my voice level as I spoke.
Leaning against the bedpost, I felt glued to Grimm’s childhood sheets, still black with red trim. “Is that a bet you’re willing to take?”
Shifting in Grimm’s bed, I looked around, trying to find a weapon or anything I could arm myself with. Coming up empty, I settled for scooting to the edge of the bed and hoping he maintained his distance.
“I’m not betting anything. He’s my boss, Oscar.” My sudden ability to lie appeared right in time.
He took a seat next to me, and I felt the bed shift, making my body tense uncomfortably. He made my body break out in goosebumps, and his hand clamped down on the back of my neck—not too hard, but it still made my heart quicken. The faster pace made my chest ache and my ears ring.
“You don’t belong in this world. Neither do I, babe.”
I shot up off the bed at the word babe. Standing up, I moved over to the door, but Oscar caught up in only a few steps, pressing his hand to the door, making sure I couldn’t open it.
With his breath on my neck, I could practically feel his lips graze my skin, making me flinch. “Running away, Abigail? Always running. Don’t want to stain that perfect reputation, good Catholic girl from Chicago? I just can’t let you run this time. You’re my… initiation.”
His words had a bite to them, and his body pushed against my back. My chest felt tight, and my heart was pounding more than I could take. The panic I had felt earlier only sped up enough to make the adrenaline run rampant.
Trying to twist around enough to hit him, he saw me looking for anything I could to help me escape. Grabbing my hair in his fist, he dragged me back to the bed and pushed me on the cold satin.
On my stomach, Oscar trapped my legs, straddling me, while his hands pushed my dress up to my hips. I didn’t expect the tears to cloud my vision, but they did.
“Oscar, please…” I pleaded with him, knowing it wasn’t going to do me any good. Pinching the inside of his thigh wouldn’t get him to ever slow down below 80 even if he felt like it, and saying his name now wasn’t going to do anything either.
It was worth the try.
“Will Grimm still want you when I’m done?” His fingers pushed under the band of my panties, and I wiggled uncontrollably, trying to break free from under his weight.
When I heard the door open, I whined for help and twisted my face now covered in tears for the person to help me. Once I saw who it was, even more tears poured from my eyes. Jessica wasn’t going to help me.
Her unplanned visit to the office and her face dropping down to her toes when I showed up on his arm was enough to make her hate me. Or at least suspect something was going on between Grimm and me.
Taking advantage of Oscar being distracted by her, I twisted my way out of his clutch enough to push him off of me. Just when things started to look hopeful, Jessica slapped me across the face so hard it stunned me, while stumbling backwards into Oscar.
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to get the job done. Fucking pussy. Think too much to make any decisions.” Her thick Russian accent hung in the air with dominance.
Before I could collect myself back into place, I felt Jessica’s fingers against my scalp, forcing me back towards the bed.
In one swift motion, she was forcing me down, bending me at the hips and pushing my chest into the sheets again. The tears hadn’t dried before the new wave of tears moistened my cheeks.
I wasn't broken, and this certainly would break me the way they hoped. The tears were simply frustration mixed with the adrenaline pumping through my veins, forcing me to keep trying to escape their grasp.
“Oscar, do it! You heard his mother. Ruin her, so he won’t want her anymore!” Jessica demanded as I heard Oscar’s belt holding up his dress pants jiggle. Jessica’s knee dug into my back as I felt Oscar’s crotch press into my ass. I clamped my eyes closed, trying to escape mentally if I couldn’t physically.
When I was taken by my dad’s enemies, I walked into it blindly. This time, I woke up in one of my nightmares, already held hostage before I had time to figure it out.
They wanted me to learn a lesson; only this time, it wasn’t that my dad was a horrible guy. This lesson was to teach me not to fall for someone I can’t actually have.
GRIMM
Taking Bo’s word for it, I headed upstairs, trying to decipher where Abigail could be. Pulling out my phone, I texted Khaos again, demanding him to give me answers, locations, coordinates… anything.
Stepping onto the landing of the second floor, I tucked my phone into the pocket of my jacket, listening to the faint sound of something in the distance. Following it, I ended up in front of my childhood bedroom door. It was not really a room I considered personal or private.
Growing up, I spent more time at the estate than in that room—or really, anywhere but where I should feel connected, like my childhood home.
There’s always a feeling before something bad truly happens. You can choose to ignore it or lean into it. That’s why I can’t hate California. Yeah, it might be superficial and depraved of morals, but if you lean in enough, the bad shit ends up feeling like a breeze.
I leaned in so much I was pretty much horizontal with the bad shit. Nothing surprised me, and handling my problems was merely an annoyance instead of the end of the world.
On the other side of the door, I heard crying, Jessica’s thick accent telling someone to “do it already,” and movements that I couldn’t place.
Leaning in wasn’t going to help me. I practically kicked my door open to find Jessica sitting next to Abigail on the bed, holding her head down, as Oscar stood behind her bent over body.
It didn’t matter how horizontal I was with the demons or the bad shit in my life; this wasn’t some annoyance. This was a death ticket without an anonymous fucking text to point me in the right direction.
Oscar backed away from Abigail with so much fear in his eyes that we both knew the Clave wouldn’t ever see him as anything but damaged goods. He was messy, stupid, and downright useless to us when he couldn’t even manage to not get caught doing anything.
I wanted to put my hands on him.
I wanted to strangle him.
I wanted to watch the life leave his body with a smile on my face.
Rushing to Abigail’s side, I wrapped my arm around her and held her against me as she shook.
I hadn’t even said those three words before my lifestyle was beating her down. We barely got to be happy before the Clave got in the way.
Ripping myself from Abigail, I fisted Oscar’s dress shirt and shook his unruly hair in the process of pushing him against the wall. My desire to put my hands on him was too much to ignore when my knuckles broke against his perfect heartthrob features that gave every girl the wrong idea.
He wasn’t a gentleman.
He wasn't a good guy.
He wasn’t even man enough to earn consent.
His skin cracked, and the blood trailed down his face the way I wanted to see. I kept going until he seemed disoriented, dazed by the blood loss mixing with the pain. Watching him stumble and try to stay upright only brought a smile to my face.
Leaning down to view all the glory of my handiwork, I held his throat in my grip, stabilizing him and making sure I was making eye contact. “She’s pregnant.”
We didn’t know it for sure, but I had a feeling it was true when she still didn’t get her period after praying for it like God would take pity on her. Supposedly the Clave did all the work for God, and he never gave me his pity before.
Without him responding, I could see the confusion and words trying to make it past all the metal in his mouth.
Reaching under my suit jacket, I pulled out my gun, smoothing my finger over the safety and managing to direct it towards Oscar with no mercy.
I was going to do us al
l a favor and end his miserable life when Bo’s silent, yet deadly, ability to appear unheard happened again. “I wouldn’t kill him.”
My head jerked Bo’s direction, waiting for the good fucking reason to come.
“All the bad ones survive and live in fear. Let him live.”
“Are you fucking kidding me, Bo? He’s a fucking liability.”
Khaos ran behind him, bumping into almost everything, and Vic was doing a slow fucking trot behind him.
Great, all four of us. This meant it would probably be put to a vote now. Any time you put us all in a room, it meant the majority won.
Khaos, being the fucking relief in every room spoke: “She’s fucking pregnant. Shut the fuck up.” He handed Abigail a fucking Starburst, like it could solve all our problems, when this was the trumpet—a warning sign of the end.
Vic was silent, not even offering a displeased glare my way, when I squeezed the trigger of the gun pressed into Oscar’s temple.
There was minimal blow back as the spray from the bullet ending his life got on my suit jacket, and I shrugged it off as Oscar’s body hit the floor.
I then turned my attention to the other person I was holding accountable in the room: Jessica. She snapped to life, suddenly willing to defend herself, if it meant not dying at my hands.
“We only do as we are told. How do you expect us to know you knocked her up?” She pulled a cigarette out of her clutch and sat up, still too unbothered by me.
Closing the space between myself and her, I waited for a better excuse for her involvement.
“What do you want me to say, Jason? You know she isn’t Clave, and you made sure she is as good as dead by carrying your baby.”
Pointing a finger in her face, I spoke slowly, making sure nothing could be twisted. “You and me? Never happening. For sparing your life, you’re going to tell my parents you are no longer interested. Got it?”
With an eye roll and a subtle nod, she stood up to leave the room, having to push past the horsemen first.
Holding Abigail’s chin between my thumb and finger, I gently coaxed her into looking at me. “Tell me you’re okay.”
She nodded her head, rubbing the tears from her skin. Pressing my lips to hers, I held the distance after the quick kiss, ignoring their eyes on us.
“I love you, Abigail. I’m not gonna let bad shit happen to you.”
Looking over my shoulder, Vic stood with his arms folded, and I knew I wouldn’t get off that easy. Bo and Khaos were uninvested—only invested enough to make an educated vote, but didn’t see the bigger picture, like Vic.
“Are we going to talk about this?” Vic’s voice was raspy and pricked my skin.
Pushing past him with Abigail’s hand in mine, I only paused long enough for him to challenge me. He chose not to, which was the most shocking part.
The crowd was small, trying to see the commotion inside my room when my parents looked concerned. Once the horsemen moved to lift the veil on Oscar’s dead body in my childhood bedroom, their concern dropped down to carelessness.
Dragging Abigail behind me without stopping, I didn’t bother stopping to talk to my parents.
They didn’t deserve any answers.
They definitely didn’t deserve knowing Abigail was carrying the Rothschild heir.
Fuck, they didn’t even deserve me or my monster.
The bell rang at the perfect time, sounding off that dinner would start. It was tradition that all the guests were blindfolded. I’m sure the tradition was born out of idle hands under the guise of bonding.
“We’re leaving.” I didn’t need to say much else.
Abigail stopped following behind me, planting herself to the ground and making me pause. “They already hate me. We have to stay for dinner. Please.”
That was the last thing I wanted, but coming from her lips after what just happened, I would do anything for her—even save face.
With Abigail close behind me, we were the firsts to make it to the long tables side by side with little place cards directing everyone where to sit. The four families at one table and the extension of the Clave at another. Zeus at the head of our table seemed odd. I didn’t remember seeing him when I arrived, and in the Greek mask like an Olympian, he would be hard to miss.
Abigail was shaking like a leaf when I picked up a black satin tie to place over her mask. I stood behind her, trying to comfort her the best I could without making it even more clear Abigail belonged to me. Oscar’s dead body upstairs pretty much screamed that message without me straining my vocal chords.
Khaos had a talent for picking out pretty things and making them his; hence the alphabet he let live at his place. The blonde with the big bouncy curls clad in leather pants wasn’t going to be any different when he raced by me to practically jump over the table to claim the empty seat next to her.
“Sorry, man, this seat is taken.” I watched him turn to the bunny at his side with a charming smile. “Back, again. I have dramatic friends.”
I admired his ability to shake off the Clave, the bullshit life we were forced into, and the death that always followed us. His hands were clean, and his sleep was restful in a way that only Khaos could manage.
Abigail’s hands clutched onto mine as I tied the blindfold loosely enough to not give her any more trauma apart from what Oscar had just put her through. I was using kid gloves, even though she had survived just as much as me and I knew that only resulted in tough, solid marble.
Just like me.
Once I helped Abigail down into the seat safely, Zeus whistled, and for some reason, I looked up like the brainwashed fucking cult member I am. Walking towards him at the head of the table, I kept looking over my shoulder, making sure Abigail was exactly where I left her.
Even with the threat abolished, I still needed to protect her; that was something I couldn’t shake since meeting her. I wouldn’t be in this position if I felt just fucking nothing for her.
Standing to the side of Zeus was like standing next to a Titan. Even with him sitting down, no matter how big you felt, he could make you feel small.
Waving me closer, he whispered, “Did you figure out the Cloth situation? I like you, Grimm. I don’t want to make life difficult.”
He liked me like he liked a hole in the head. Enough to not want one.
“Working on it. Maybe if you told me what the fuck their deal was, I could tell you how much they’re falling out of line or why some blonde kid is digging into who they are with such fucking dedication.” My voice broke and snapped all over the one person I was purposely hiding everything under the surface from.
Zeus’s rings dug into my skin around my wrist as he jerked me down to his level. His breath was whiskey soaked, and his tattoos looked faded and blown out from this distance, and yet his face was well preserved under the white beard.
“If I wanted you to know, you would, Rothschild. Remember who owns the Clave next time you raise your voice at me,” he practically snarled. All he was missing was the foam coating his lips and the bark to go with the bite.
When he let go of my wrist, I rubbed the skin, like that would be the remedy to scrubbing the marks away, while I walked back to Abigail who was sitting across from Khaos. Vic sat down on the other side of the bunny, Bo was next to Abigail, boxing her in, and our parents took the seats closest to Zeus.
They didn’t need to kneel to worship him. It was written all over their all-too-ready-to-please faces.
After the festivities finally died down, Abigail finally stopped shaking against me as we waited for the valet with my car to pull up. That was the moment Vic walked down the steps to my side with that look in his eye that seemed demanding.
“Handle your shit, and then we are having a meeting.”
“Nah, thanks though. Better shit to do than whatever the fuck you plan to say.”
His body sidestepped and his arms folded tightly. “You started this. The four of us are connected, and now you dragged us into this.”
“I�
��m not leaving her alone,” I insisted, still clutching onto a very stoic Abigail, who hadn’t said one word yet.
Vic’s car pulled up, and he rounded it to the driver’s side, still talking: “I’ll text the guys. We’ll meet at your place.”
It didn’t sound optional, because it wasn’t. The four of us were bound by the four bloodlines of power, and one bad decision to give the Clave a middle finger rippled into their peaceful lives.
Not by choice. Nothing was choice, fate, or happenstance. You either have control, or you don’t.
I don’t. Apparently.
I could hear their cars pull into my driveway without much paranoia sharpening my listening skills. They could wait. I didn’t care. I made it clear I had better things to do, like make sure Abigail wasn’t shaken up so hard it changed her.
Unzipping her dress in the back, I could see her scars up close, just like she had seen mine. There wasn’t much point in denying the fact that I loved her anymore. It was pretty fucking hard to ignore.
“I have to talk to the guys. I’m saying I don't want to.”
Spinning around in my arms and letting the dress pool at her feet, her fingertips touched my jaw. “I love you. All of you. I know it won’t be easy for you…”
Wrapping my arms around her, my hand pushed her closer to me. “You’re the easiest part of my whole life. They’ll be on our side.”
Nodding her head like she knew had a smile crack over my lips. Abigail was smarter than I wanted to admit. Fuck, Abigail was a lot of things I didn’t want to admit. She had power over me, and I didn’t give that shit to just anyone.
Letting her shower off Oscar and the whole night, I changed out of the suit I was forced into wearing for the ball. It felt like a straitjacket against my every impulse to be insane.
Comfortable in fitted joggers and a black plain shirt, I glanced into the bathroom, where I left the door open purposely, before heading downstairs to talk with the guys.
All three of them stood next to their cars, all undone from the polished look we all sported only a half hour ago.
Khaos had no shirt on, shocker, with his dress pants hanging low on his hips like a fucking Calvin Klein ad. He would walk around naked if people let him.
