Page 8 of Brothers' Brat

What does he mean by step in, exactly?

"Good." A final nod from him, and I know the evening has taken a turn.

"Have you fucking met your daughter?" Hayden asks, clearly exasperated as he sets down his empty glass. "If we tell her to do something, she'd do the opposite even if it hurts her just to spite us."

Leila's gaze, wide and brimming with a mix of defiance and fear, meets mine, but her lips part to launch another barbed retort at Hayden. Before the words can break free, Father's stern voice slices through the tension.

"Enough," Dad says, setting his glass on the mantel with a dull clack that signals finality. "Hudson, her blazer. Open it."

She stiffens beside me, her breath hitching. "I?—"

"Quiet, Leila," Father commands, his tone brooking no argument. "I'm just going to make a point."

Her protest dies in her throat as my fingers, trembling with reluctance and something darker, move to the buttons of her blazer. One by one they slip through the holes, revealing the disheveled state of her white shirt beneath—torn, strained at the seams, baring her full tits marred by our rough play. My stomach knots as I take in the red welts, the purpling bruises blooming like wicked flowers on her creamy skin. I don't know if we did that or if she did it to herself trying to get away from us.

"Fuck," Hayden mutters under his breath, shifting on his feet like he's fighting the urge to walk over here, drop to his knees, and take her nipple between his teeth. I don't blame him. I'm fighting the same feelings. Lust clouds Hayden's blue eyes, and I feel Leila's breath catch. I love the connection she has with Hayden, and in this moment, I want nothing more than to see him devour her.

"That's fucking ridiculous." Father gestures to the marks we've left on her. "If I didn't intervene tonight, how long was this going to go on?" When none of us answer, Father looks pointedly at Leila. "They'd stop if you'd just submit to them." I feel Leila stiffen at his words.

"That's not true, and you know it." Dad stares down Leila, neither of them moving a muscle. Unable to resist the pull her body has on mine, I lift my hand to her breast, feeling its weight, its warmth. Her nipple hardens against my palm, and I roll it between my fingers, harsher than I intend.

"Hudson, stop it! Dad, please. Just make them stop," Leila's voice is muffled, cheeks burning a fierce scarlet. But it isn't just shame coloring her face; there's anger too, and something else I can't quite name.

"Embarrassment doesn't suit you, girl," Father chides. "They ache for you, can't you see? To touch you, to claim you. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love your brothers, and I'll drive you back to campus myself tonight."

"What?" Hayden snaps, but Dad waves him off.

"You can't honestly tell me that, can you?" Dad asks Leila. To my surprise, she doesn't blurt out that she doesn't love us. She doesn't say anything at all. Instead, she juts her chin out in defiance, and I can't help but slide my hand down her flat stomach and back up to knead her breasts again. Dad looks pointedly at Hayden and then turns to me before he says, "The two of you need to resolve this, or it'll end badly. And Leila," he turns to her, "stop fighting them. Let them care for you like I know they want to."

None of us respond to Dad's warning, and his eyes focus on my fingers pulling on my sister's nipple. He clears his throat and nods toward Hayden before he instructs, "Check her. If she wants to pretend like she wants nothing to do with the two of you, let's see how true that is."

Hayden seems to descend before us like a man possessed, hands skimming up Leila's thighs as she squirms, trying to evade his touch. "Hold still," I say, voice low, gripping her more firmly as I continue to grope her breast, pinching the tender peak.

"Ah, fuck," Hayden groans, dipping between her legs, his head disappearing under the hem of her skirt. "Wet. Always so fucking wet for us." Hayden grins, gripping Leila's thighs as she tries to kick at him.

"Even when rebelling," Father observes, an edge of satisfaction tainting his voice.

Father’s silhouette looms against the flickering flames of the wood stove. "Tomorrow," Father's voice is gruff, edged with a warning that sends a shiver down my spine despite the heat from the fire. "That's your deadline. Get this sorted out, or Leila goes to someone who can handle her."

His words are a cold slap and leave no room for argument. He doesn't look back as he strides to the door, heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor. With each step, the weight of his ultimatum settles heavier on us.

"It'll be done. No one will ever touch what's ours," Hayden snaps, his eyes boring into the back of Dad's head.

"Can't just keep hurting her," Father says without turning, his hand on the doorknob. "You'll end up killing her and then you'll have to deal with me. Understand?"

"Understood," Hayden mutters, the word slicing through the tension.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the second the latch falls into place, Leila's body becomes a live wire, thrashing against our grip, fighting for freedom we both crave and fear to give.

"God damn it, Leila!" Hayden's curse is a snarl as we struggle to contain her fierce spirit. I sit down roughly and Hayden follows my lead. My hands clamp around our sister's squirming form, pinning her down onto the couch until she’s sprawled across our laps.

"Stop moving," I command, but there's no bite in my tone—only a desperate plea masquerading as authority I'm coming to realize.

Leila bucks, her breath coming in heated gasps, her skin flushed from our touch and her fight. I can feel her pulse racing under my fingers, the frantic beat syncing with the turmoil churning inside me. "Let me go! Just let me go, and you'll never have to see me again. I won't be at school to incite you. Please just let me go so he doesn't give me to one of his fucked up friends."

"Enough!" Hayden's voice cracks like a whip, and for a moment, Leila stills, clearly startled. "You've got one night to come around to the idea of being with us. There is no other option for you. You're ours and we're done fucking around," Hayden grits out, and I can hear the panic in his tone. He's trying to sound sure of himself, but he's worried, and to be honest, so am I.

There's no response from our little sister, only the sound of our ragged breathing and the crackle of the woodstove.

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