Page 20 of Justice

The color drains from her face, her eyes widening in fear as they dart from one leather brother to the other.

I can practically hear her heart pounding from here. The sight of her terror is like a balm to my rage.

I take a step forward, my boots heavy on the hardwood floor. She flinches at the sound, pressing herself against the wall as if she could melt into it.

"What's going on," I say without emotion, "is that you and I need to have a little chat about respect."

Her husband appears behind her, his face a mask of panic. He places a hand on her shoulder, whether to comfort her or to use her as a shield, I'm not sure.

"Please," he starts, "whatever this is about…"

My eyes never leave the woman's face as I speak, my voice low and controlled. "Seems your wife here has a problem with respect, Charlie. Today, she decided to treat Elle like shit while they were waiting at the doctor's office."

Charlie's face drains of color, his eyes darting between me and his wife. "What did you do?" he hisses at her, panic evident in his voice.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," she stammers, but we both know it's a lie. I can see the slight tremble in her hands as she tries to compose herself. "I… I didn't do anything," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just went to the doctor’s and came home. I'm not sure what this… boy has told you."

The word 'boy' hits me like a slap to the face. I feel my jaw clench, my fingers curling into fists. I glance at my dad, and I cansee the rage building in his eyes. This bitch has no idea the line she just crossed.

Charlie looks like he's about to pass the fuck out. "Don't call him that," he pleads, his voice cracking. "Apologize to him and Elle. Please, just apologize."

But his wife, apparently oblivious to the danger she's in, shakes her head defiantly. "I didn't do anything wrong," she cries out, her hand dramatically clutching at her stomach.

Charlie sits down in a chair, his legs not able to hold him up anymore. “Do you know what you’ve done? They could kill all of us for this!” he snaps at her, getting some of his backbone back.

She looks confused. “Why, I didn’t do anything wrong. I just spoke the truth.”

I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees. The movement causes her to flinch, and I can't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction.

"One lie for sure," I say smirking, "is that your husband is the owner of that restaurant you were bragging about. You see," I continue, standing up slowly, savoring the way she shrinks back, "that restaurant? It's ours. Your husband here? He's just the manager. And you? You're nothing but a disrespectful bitch who thought she could treat my girl like trash."

Charlie pales even further and she looks over at him, shocked. “Wait, you mean that it’s not yours?”

He rubs his face hard. “I’m the manager of the place.” You can hear the shame in his voice.

I can't help but savor the moment, watching as the realization hits her like a freight train. Her world is crumbling. “And guess what, sweetheart?" I lean in closer, my voice low and menacing. "We own this house too."

"What is he talking about, Charlie? Should I call the police on these thugs? They are whoring out teenage girls! I know whatthis is, this is trafficking!" she screeches in an annoying voice, and I resist the urge to cover my ears.

At this, Derek steps forward with me. We stalk over to her, getting in her face, rage burning through me. "Charlie, you have an hour to get your shit out of our house, and your job is terminated," I tell him, never taking my eyes off her. Her bottom lip trembles like she is going to cry.

She doesn’t say another word until we turn around to leave the house. “Why did you do this to us?” she cries.

I look back at her in disgust. “Because my Elle deserves justice and no one disrespects her.”

Elle

Iwake up to the feel of Christopher lying flush against me, his dick resting against my ass. It takes every ounce of my self-restraint not to press myself back against him.

The clock on the nightstand reads seven o'clock. I must have crashed as soon as we got home yesterday.

Christopher shifts in his sleep, his arm tightening around my waist. The movement causes his hips to press more firmly against me, and I can't suppress the small gasp that escapes my lips.

His breathing changes, and I know he's awake. His hand is on my bare stomach. I'm wearing one of his t-shirts and my underwear.

I swallow hard, my mouth dry, and I don't dare to move, even though I can feel exactly how happy he is this morning.

I clutch the blanket in my hand as his fingers glide below my belly button. Goosebumps spread across my skin in anticipation.

---