Page 26 of Broken Pact

“You know what, boys? I don’t really give a fuck about you or what you believe. But I am gonna take my girl home now,” Jagger says. Underneath his pleasant tone, there's a band of steel.

“The fuck you are. Grant says that’s his girl, and we wouldn’t be the Hunters if we just let you scoop her up from underneath him,” one of the guys says.

“Hunters, yeah,” Jagger says with a chuckle. “How is ole Clifford these days, hm? Because my prez told me he’s cracking down on his prospects.” He absently scratches along his jaw, the scruff rustling against his fingertips. “Rumor has it that he let a bunch of dipshits prospect a few years back that ended up starting a turf war.” His lips curl up at the corners, revealing a mischievous glint in his eyes. There’s a calculated look on his face as he smirks, like a predator who knows he has the upper hand.

I hear the guys shuffle on their feet, the scuffs of their boots loud in the quiet night. I want to look to see their expressions, but I can’t peel my gaze from the man next to me.

“How the fuck do you know shit about Hunter shit?” Grant demands, always the most eloquent.

“Bro.” There’s a smack that finally draws my attention. “Let’s just get out of here. No pussy is worth this much,” the guy to the left of Grant says.

It happens so fast, I feel like he teleported. One second Jagger is next to me, and in the next heartbeat, he's standing over the guy who just mouthed off. And the mouthy guy is on the ground because Jagger punched him.

“Axel, you fucking dumbass,” one of the other guy mutters.

“Don’t you ever disrespect her again, you hear me?” Jagger points at the mouthy guy, Axel.

Axel really is a dumbass because his gaze slides to the side, directly to me. He sneers at me, his gaze promising retribution.

Jagger steps to the side, blocking his view. “No. Don’t look at her. Don’t even fucking think about her. And I’ll know if you do, yeah?”

Axel spits on the pavement next to him in defiance.

“Because I’m the motherfucking Reaper.”

It’s hard to tell, but I think Axel’s face pales a little bit. I’m distracted by the way Jagger’s back muscles ripple underneath the back of his tee as he walks backward. He resumes his protective spot in front of me. And I’m face-to-face with the giant Reaper emblem along his back—a skull in a traditional style with crossing scythes.

The other three of Grant’s friends take a collective step back, murmuring a chorus of “oh fucks.” But not Grant. No, he’s too stubborn for such things like common sense.

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. I know there’s no way you’re with her, because I was just with her,” Grant proclaims with condescension.

“I know who you are, Lawson. And I’m telling you, man. I don’t give a fuck about you. So listen to your friends before you get hurt. Again. And get the fuck out of here. And if I find out you’ve been harassing my girl, well, then, you and me? We’re going to have a fucking problem.”

Chills skate down my back at the threat. I don’t think he really means it, but he sure as hell sounds convincing to me. I honestly don’t know how Grant is still standing here. Stupidity probably.

I peek around Jagger, inadvertently getting a whiff of him. How can he still smell so good after spending the night inside a sweaty concert? It’s distracting and honestly unfair.

“Reapers aren’t shit anymore, bro.” Grant taunts.

“C’mon, dude. Let’s just fucking go. It’s not worth it to fuck with the Reapers,” one of his friends says, hitting him on his shoulder.

Jagger nods a few times, like he’s agreeing with someone. “I get it, Lawson. You’re more a visual guy, yeah? Alright, let me paint this picture for you. You’re home alone, kicked out of prospecting for the Hunters, and then you hear a strange noise. Sounds like a raccoon or something, going to town on your garbage in the backyard. So you go to investigate it because you’re a confident guy. But right before you leave your house, you remember that I warned you. So now you’re thinking maybe it’s not a raccoon, but it’s something bigger, scarier. Infinitely more dangerous.” Jagger strolls forward, still keeping himself between me and them.

“I’m not fucking scared of you.”

Jagger nods. “I know you’re not, but you will be.”

“Are you threatening me?” Grant’s all bluster.

Jagger jerks his chin toward Grant. “Now you’re getting it.”

There was a palpable tension in the air, crackling with the promise of more violence. But then something shifts in Grant’s expression, and he lets his friends pull him away.

15

CORALINE

Jagger doesn’t leave his perch as a shield until Grant and his buddies are out of sight.

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