Page 123 of F*ckboys

Grave studies me a moment longer before leaning back and nodding, seemingly satisfied with my reassurance, though I can tell a sliver of doubt lingers behind his eyes. He knows me too well.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. Time to get back to business.

Grave steers the conversation to the thing he's most concerned about—my boundaries. "Things keep spiraling," he says, his voice gruff as ever, the dim light casting shadows across his face,giving him an enigmatic aura. "When I joined you, I knew I was going to get my hands dirty, which I'm more than fine with, but I wasn't intending on you going down a murderous path."

I meet his gaze. "That was never my intention, Grave. I always said our revenge would be eye for an eye. And none of our clients have come to us from beyond the grave. Yet at least. I agree, murder is an overstep for our current business model."

He smirks.

I feel my defenses slowly crumbling, my vulnerability making a rare appearance in front of one of my most trusted humans. "To be honest, I'm not sure where the line is, Grave. It keeps shifting. I feel comfortable about holding Harvey Maxwell captive and making him feel pain. After all, he did that to Claudia. But did I go too far? Keep him too long? Inflict too much physical damage? I'm not sure."

I don't add what's really on my mind—how much I've let my work be clouded by my personal situation. My own feelings of betrayal and darkness driving my desire to avenge my clients. Aksel's actions long ago being the reason I started this part of my business in the first place.

"You know I don't judge you, right?" Grave asks, his voice unusually soft. "Anything a person could ever have done to inflict pain, I've probably done it. And as for taking lives? There have been more than I'd care to count. And each time, it leaves a mark on your soul. It's unfixable, even with time. So you have to know when to stop. I wish I'd known that back then." Ghosts of his past dance in his eyes under the dim bar lighting.

"I know I don't know the details, Grave, but please believe me when I tell you that I trust you implicitly. That you're one of, if not the, most trusted advisors I have in my life. So if you had to go to those levels, I know it was out of necessity."

An unspoken bond of trust permeates between us, leaving the air electric. I've never felt so strongly about a man I haven't been interested in a relationship with.

Clearly, he feels it too. Always awkward about a show of feelings, to the point he claims not to have them at all, Grave breaks eye contact and takes another sip of his drink.

The discussion shifts to the future. "We still have to figure out how to deal with Harvey so he doesn't come back to bite us. And then there's the matter of dealing with Brynn," he says, both situations raising chilling questions that linger in the air.

"I still can't believe Brynn tried to use us as pawns. I'm so glad I eventually listened to you, even though I should have from the outset. I'm so sorry for not looking into your concerns sooner, Grave. I was so dismissive, so hellbent on what felt like righteous vigilante justice that I almost had us kill an innocent man in cold blood."

"Listen, people make mistakes," says Grave. "I'm just glad you came to your senses before it was too late."

"So, what are we going to do about her? Any ideas?" I quirk a brow.

"I have a few things in mind. Let me look into it further."

I nod, relieved we were able to at least begin resolving issues in our professional relationship.

"So, where do we go from here?" I ask quietly. The next steps seem murky, but I know Grave and I will navigate them together.

He meets my gaze, determination etched on his face. "Wherever this path takes us. But we walk it side by side."

I reach across the table and squeeze his hand, a silent pact sealing our partnership. He shifts awkwardly, but doesn't pull his hand away. We may dwell in darkness, but within it we've found trust—and purpose.

Chapter 70

Aksel

The familiar scent of bergamot and sandalwood envelops me as I step into Raine’s living room. Soft lamplight washes over mismatched furniture and threadbare rugs, a soothing balm after the day I’ve had.

Raine smiles, lines crinkling around eyes that hold wisdom beyond her years as she hands me a cup of hot ginger tea. I eagerly take the steaming mug from her. She’s always had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what I need.

Motioning for me to sit, she settles into the armchair across from mine. The quiet grows heavy with anticipation until she breaks it, her gaze steady on mine.

“Life’s complex, little brother, but you’re strong. Stronger than you know.”

Her words hit their mark, a lump forming in my throat. I drag in a breath, fisting my hands in an attempt to keep them still. “If you saw what I did today—”

“I don’t need to see.” She leans forward, clasping my wrist. “I know you always keep family top of mind, and sometimes that means you need to do things you're not proud of.”

I jerk my head in a sharp nod, my throat too tight to speak. She knows me too well.

After increasing security on Amy, Roxy, Raine, Carson, Grandmother, myself—and even Fallon, although she's not aware my men are trailing her twenty-four seven—I took matters into my own hands with the help of a couple of my most trusted men. The Marcello brothers are out of commission, one dead and two severely wounded after what police and news media will come to describe as a randomized drive-by shooting in one of the city's worst neighborhoods. I took the kill shot myself, savoring the smell of gun smoke and the red dot that slowly started bleeding between the oldest Marcello brothers' eyes. Nobody fucks with my family.

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