Page 48 of F*ckboys

"Agreed," Grave nods, although I see an odd flash in his eyes that gives me goosebumps. "We'll need to be creative in our approach, then. What if we expose his infidelity to his high-profile clients? Ruin his reputation, both personally and professionally?"

"Good start," I say, mulling over his suggestion. "But we need something more... personal. Something that will hit him where it hurts the most."

"Perhaps targeting his finances?" Grave suggests, a calculating glint in his eye. "Find a way to drain his bank accounts, leaving him with nothing?"

"That could be poetic... he's made Teri bankrupt from a fertility perspective, and we could do the same with his wallet," I agree, a wicked smile curling my lips. "And once he's lost everything, we'll ensure that everyone knows exactly why. No one will want to associate with him after they learn the truth about what he did to Teri." I pause and furrow my brow. "But I still think we need to make this more eye for an eye. There need to be physical implications."

"Fallon," Grave begins, his voice low and serious, "we need to consider the legal implications of what we're doing. If weget caught, there could be severe repercussions for all of us—especially Teri."

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms. The thought of Teri being dragged down with us is unbearable. She's already endured so much pain at the hands of Jared, and now she's entrusting us with her hope for justice. "We'll have to be meticulous about covering our tracks," I say firmly. "No room for mistakes."

"Agreed," Grave nods, studying me intently. "But there's something else we should discuss—the emotional toll this might take on Teri. Are you prepared for that possibility?"

My heart clenches at the thought, but I know he's right. "She deserves justice, Grave," I reply, my voice cracking slightly. "If there are side effects, we'll help her through them. Together."

Grave's eyes soften, understanding the weight of my words. As much as I want to protect Teri from any further harm, I also know that sometimes, seeking vengeance can leave scars on the soul.

"Fallon," Grave says, placing a hand on my shoulder, "you can't save everyone. Remember that this mission might affect you too. You're not immune to the emotional consequences."

I swallow hard, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over. He's right. With each case I take on, a part of me becomes entwined with the pain of those I seek justice for. And yet, I can't help but press forward, relentlessly fighting for what's right.

"Thank you, Grave," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I'll keep that in mind."

I can't help but wrestle with the ethical lines we're about to cross. Will our actions truly bring Teri the closure she seeks, or are we simply feeding the cycle of vengeance? And what if something goes wrong, causing even more pain for our client?

For now, however, these questions must remain unanswered. Our focus is on the task at hand—to exact revenge on JaredCarlson and bring justice to a woman who has suffered far too much. He needs to be humiliated and physically harmed, just like he did to her.

As we finalize our plans, I feel a sense of resolution settling over me. Our revenge against Jared Carlson is taking shape, and though it may be dark and twisted, it's necessary. For Teri. For all the women he's hurt.

As we continue to plot our revenge against Jared, I'm reminded of why I chose this path—the fierce determination to right the wrongs inflicted upon the innocent, to stand up for those who have been silenced by their oppressors. With each calculated step, we're inching closer to retribution on Teri's behalf. And as I watch the fire burning brightly in Grave's eyes, I know that together, we remain unstoppable.

But whatever lies ahead, one thing remains certain: Jared Carlson won't know what hit him.

Chapter 24

Fallon

The moment I dial Aksel's number, my heart races with anticipation. The phone rings and rings, but there's no answer. With each unanswered ring, my anxiety grows and I feel increasingly stupid for wanting to hear his voice on the other end of the phone. I know Aksel is a busy guy, but he always answers my calls. Unless, of course, he's playing games with me again, just because I didn't have time to spare to chat with him the other day.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath as the call goes to voicemail. My hands tremble with anger, and without even thinking, I swipe through my contacts and block his number. "You wanna play games, Aksel? Fine. Consider this my opening move."

I need a distraction, something to get him out of my head. I can't let him win whatever stupid little rivalry this is. As I storm out of my condo, I decide to hit up a bar, knowing full well what I'm looking for. Revenge. It's not just about getting back at Aksel, it's about taking control of the situation. And maybe, just maybe, finding someone who won't treat me like I'm disposable.

The bar is dark and smoky, filled with couples huddled in corners and groups of friends laughing over drinks. I slide onto a stool at the counter and order my usual whiskey, downing it in one quick gulp. My eyes scan the room, searching for a target. Someone to spend a few hours with and use as a pawn in this twisted game.

"Can I buy you another drink?" a deep voice asks from behind me. I turn around to find a tall, muscular man with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. He's attractive, but there's something dark lurking behind those eyes that makes me wary. He wears a scruffy black T-shirt with an old metal band's logo and black jeans with tattered black sneakers. Tattoos adorn both of his arms as well as his neck, and he also sports hand tattoos. Oh god, they're one of my major weaknesses. I wonder if he has a pierced cock, too, and I'm planning to find out later.

"Sure," I reply, feigning a smile. "Why not?"

He orders two more whiskeys and leans against the edge of the bar, studying me intently. "You seem...angry," he observes, his eyes trailing languidly over me as he takes a sip of his drink, a trace of amusement in his expression.

"Am I that easy to read?" I scoff, downing my second whiskey.

"Maybe I'm just good at reading people," he smirks. "Or maybe you're looking for the same thing I am."

"Which is?"

"Distraction. Maybe a little revenge," he suggests, his voice low and seductive.

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