Page 100 of Double Standards
“Not what I’d use personally,” he comments, shooting me a smirk.
Hunter and I lean against the wall, arms folded, while Trigger lounges on the couch like he owns the place. He watches the girls dancing below through the window while we wait for Ryder and Max.
Patience clearly isn’t Chester’s strong-suit. He’s panting, sweating profusely and wearing an expression that’s close to fear and apprehension.
“Maybe take some notes, Hunter,” Trigger jokes.
Hunter snorts. “Nah. I’ve got standards.”
Their banter is easy, almost casual. But Chester knows better, he knows we’re delaying the inevitable. The tension in the room thickens with every word and his body shifts slightly in his chair.
“They’re waiting downstairs,” one of Trigger’s guys whispers, leaning close so only I can hear. His voice is steady, but there’s an edge of anticipation there—like even he knows what’s about to go down isn’t something you want too many eyes on.
I nod once, absorbing the information, but my gaze lingers on Chester, still squirming in his chair like a worm under a magnifying glass. Sweat slicks his bloated body, and his eyes dart between us like a cornered rat praying for mercy in a room full of wolves.
“Looks like it’s just us, boys,” I grin.
It’s a damn shame Ryder and Max aren’t here to see this. It would’ve been satisfying, all of us together, watching this snake finally meet the consequences of his betrayal. But I don’t blame them for staying out of it. Ryder is a loose cannon and Max... well, he’s got a temper, sure, but he’s got a line he doesn’t like to cross unless absolutely necessary. Torture’s never really been his style, and I can respect that. He likes to keep things clean.
Still, there’s a part of me that wishes they were here. Not because I need the backup, but because Chester deserves the full weight of what it means to fuck with The Five. And tonight, he’s only getting three of us.Lucky bastard.
Chester’s trembling, face pale, lips quivering. Hell—I swear he’s pissing himself which only draws attention to his pathetic situation.
“Throw something over that thing,” I mutter, disgust gripping my command.
Hunter snatches a cloth from behind the door and tosses it expertly. It lands across Chester’s lap, covering his flaccid cock.
“You picked the wrong people to fuck with,” Trigger snarls. Every syllable holds anger and the sweet promise of revenge.
“Tell him what we do to traitors,” I add.
“What, and ruin the surprise?” Trigger’s on a roll, methodical and sadistic. He flicks open his blade, running the flat of it along Chester’s trembling shoulder.
“I can get it back!” Chester screams.
“You stole from us,” Trigger growls. He stands to his full height, towering over the shitstain who looks like he’s about to piss himself. Normally we would have him in our warehouse, where we can control the situation. But since Chester is already set up for us, it would be a shame to waste the opportunity. Plus, I don’t fancy ruining any of the cars with his bare ass.
“See, that’s the problem, Chester,” I say as I step away from the wall. “We know who you gave them to and I’m not so sure they would be willing to hand our goods back, do you?”
“No, I swear—” His desperate pleas have no room here. I’ve seen it happen too many times, and it never works in their favor.
“Are you seriously playing innocent?” Trigger laughs, pulling out a knife, and flicking his wrist to expose the blade. He drags the blade again, scoring a shallow line in his skin. Chester opens his mouth to beg, but the sound of gunfire shatters the moment.
“What the fuck was that?” Hunter spins, peering into the hall.
Screams echo up the stairs. Chaos. Panic.The sound of bullets ricocheting only ratchets up my confusion until I inwardly palm my face.It’s a distraction.
And it fucking worked.
We turn, slow—too slow. Trigger’s eyes widen just as Chester, somehow, lunges backward. Chair and all, he smashes through the window behind him.
Glass explodes.
“No!” Trigger screams, but it’s too late.
Chester falls into the room below, landing hard. The chair breaks. He scrambles, miraculously mobile, detaching ropes with surprising speed.
Hunter roars and dives through the window. Chester turns, smirking, flipping us both birds as he melts into the crowd.
