Page 65 of Sinful Little Lies

GRIFFIN

I’ve been awayfor three weeks. My trip to to Catalan was a fucking success but I am drained. All I want is three more weeks of sleep.

When I enter the house, the place is a fucking mess. There’s leftover takeout littering my coffee table, my fucking kitchen island has dirty napkins and soda cans along it, and my biggest fucking pet peeve: a full fucking trashcan.

I let Greer crash here sometimes when he’s going through shit with his boy-toys and ladies of the night. He’s never been able to hold something for himself whether that be a job, school, or even short-term odd jobs. Kid is really a useless vessel of muscle and bones. I’ve offered him a position within The Pyramid and he’s declined multiple times.

Shaking my head, I inhale and exhale my frustrations as I come across more garbage littered behind the couch. I bend over to pick it up when a curdling scream breaks out. My head snaps to the back room, where I believe the sound to be coming from. Immediately, I drop the trash in my hands and storm to the back room.

Swinging it open, I see two of my brothers on the floor bleeding with bullets through them. “What the fuck is going on in here?” I shout.

Everyone turns to face me and their faces don’t falter or show any weakness.

“Your twerp of a little brother is one of the biggest douchebags I’ve ever met. Considering he also fucked another one of the earth’s biggest douchebags, that just so happens to be my ex-boyfriend, who I killed and baked into lasagna.” The dark haired vixen speaks.

Huh?

“Now he’s trying to hurt Grimm over his achy, breaky heart, I amnothaving that shit.” Her chest rises and falls, her confidence wavering, but I am in awe of her bravery.

“So my booger of a brother has,” I stop to count the amount of bullet holes peppering Greer’s body, “four rounds buried into his flesh because he’s fucking with your happily ever after?” I ask, the familiar minx.

She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing her breasts together. I’m no better than any other man. Huffing out a breath, she says, “Exactly.” Turning back to face Greer, she raises the gun, “Now, where were we?”

Greer holds his junk and groans as he rolls about the floor. Fucking pathetic, we were taught to handle any bullet much better than that. Our grandfather was one of the founder fathers of the Catalan Mafia for crying out loud.

A few feet away, Grimm cradles his shoulder, which is also seeping blood. “So, Grimm, what’d you do this time to piss him off?”

Grimm gazes at me, confused, “What the fuck are you talking about, Griff?”

“What petty bullshit did you do to set off the motherfucker again?” I repeat.

Grimm stands in a fit of annoyance and rage, “Fuck you! For years you’ve all ganged up on me, shoving my head into toilets, putting cleaning products in my food, planting bugs in my bed, and that’s just the tip of the fucking iceberg. What you guys did as a group doesn’t compare to what Greer was doing on the sidelines.”

He stand and stalks over to Greer, grabs him by the chest, and lifts him up as if he’s light as a feather. “A simple death is too fucking easy for you. You’re coming with me.”

I’ve never seen this side of Grimm before. We all had our reasons for picking on him, doesn’t make them valid but from my collection of sidebar conversations with the rest of my siblings, it was something we regretted doing as dumb kids losing our two-parent household. We were too selfish to think about what he was going through and there were too many of us for our dad to handle on his own, incidents were bound to slip through the cracks.

I walk over to the mini bar, pour myself a drink, and take a seat in the wooden chair. Only then do I notice another lifeless body on my floor, “Do you guys know how long it’s going to take to get the blood stains out of these floors?”

Making eye contact with Grimm, I speak, “What did Greer do to you that was so bad?”

Greer groans once again on the floor, “Fucking nothing. He’s a lying little shit. Help me, Griffin. My fucking balls are hanging on by a thread and the thread is my fucking pube!”

“Enough!” I yell in Greer’s direction. I motion to Grimm that he has the floor and he takes a deep breath before spilling all the dirty secrets he’s kept to himself about the abuse he endured from Greer. Some of the stories are too gruesome for me to commit to memory wholeheartedly, but it’s clear that Grimm has suffered the most out of all of us. His mother gave him up,left him with six siblings and a step-mother who didn’t give two shits about him.

I feel for him.Which is so fucking unlike me.

I’m a cold bastard. My ice box is my strength, but something about the look in Grimm’s eyes reminds me of that little boy who was pushed into the pool right after the pool ladder was removed. I see the boy who was gasping for air, begging to be saved, begging for his life to be spared. That same little boy is asking for someone to help him now, for someone to choose him the way he has wanted to be chosen his entire life.

“I’ll help you.” I cave.

Grimm’s brows furrow, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Sighing, I come to terms with what has to happen and who I need to support. “Kill him, Grimm. I won’t say a word. I’ll help you cover it up. But…I think I owe you.”

42

GRIMM

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