Page 94 of The Villain
Ilook at my stepbrother and I think about what I was about to do. What I almost did. What I would have done—would I have done it? If Allegra hadn’t broken free, would I have done what I was readying to do? And what the fuck was it anyway? How much a villain do I want to be to her?
Not.
But I am. And she’s right. I’ve betrayed her too. Any thoughts that somehow with her I’m not a beast, a monster, a villain are ridiculous. Foolish. Any idea that what Allegra and I have is something other than what it is, an exchange, a debt to be paid, collateral, well, that’s my own stupidity.
But Jethro? He will be dealt with.
“You like to play with what belongs to me,” I say.
“Did it occur to you she may not want to belong to you?” he asks, meeting me in the middle of the room.
I grip a handful of his shirt and slam him against the wall. “That’s not up to her.”
He shoves me, getting in my face. “That’s not how the world works.”
“Your world and my world are two different things, aren’t they?” I reach for the Glock in its holster under my jacket and bring the barrel to his throat. “Aren’t they?”
“You gonna shoot me?” he snorts. “Seems like a fair fight. Why not?”
“You’re right.” I walk away and set the gun down on the nearest surface. “You want a fight? Sure. Let’s do this, shall we? Fists it is. It’s time you had a proper beating to put you in your place and this time, to keep you there.” I draw my fist back and slam it into his gut.
He’s ready though, as ready as he can be. He braces himself because Jet, too, is a fighter. If it were Severin, I’m not sure what I’d get, a pussy or a killer. But Jet, he likes my world. He wants in on my world. He wants to get his hands dirty.
So maybe it’s time I let him.
“Yeah, let’s do this. It’s overdue, isn’t it?” He forces me backward and I hit a side table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor.
We fight, Jethro and I, like we’ve never fought before, and it feels good to get it out. To finally release some of this tension that’s been building for too long. Tension that Allegra has only amplified. But things are getting clearer as I beat Jet. As I take his punches. We’re well matched, he and I. It’s only when I send him crashing through the glass coffee table that he stays down for a minute. That he pauses to catch his breath.
I grin, haul him up, tasting the copper of my own blood as I ready to swing.
He blocks me, though and his next hit sends me slamming into the liquor tray, all those bottles crashing down onto the pristine hardwood floors.
We fight, fists flying, until, finally, we both slow down, both of us bloodied, both of us panting, me clutching my side where Allegra stabbed me, the wound he probably has reopened. Him with his hand on his jaw adjusting it, his lip bleeding.
“This is fucking stupid,” he says.
“Had enough then?” I ask, stalking, or attempting to stalk, toward him, but the pain in my side is too much.
“Have you?” He drops onto the couch.
I have. I’m fucking beat and so is he. I find the one bottle of whiskey that seems to have survived our assault and pick it up. Uncapping it, I drink right from the bottle before dropping into the chair across from him.
“She’s not for you, Jethro.”
“What the hell was that with Sev?” he asks, ignoring what I just said altogether and reaching to take the bottle from me. He drinks three deep swallows.
“You don’t know?”
“He doesn’t exactly confide in me.”
“You lying?”
“Christ, you’re fucking boring, you know that?” He drinks another swallow then hands the bottle back to me.
“A package was dropped off at Vivi’s mother’s house. A gift for Gage. She knew something wasn’t right and called Vivi who opened the damn thing before calling me.”
“What was it?”
