He’s in the den, on the old couch. Old beer cans litter the floor around him as he stares at the TV.
“Long time no see, Dad,” I drawl, stepping into his line of vision.
“Hey, I was watching—“ His eyes go wide and he pales as he looks up at me. “Griffin? Son, isthat you?”
His gaze drifts to Ash over my shoulder.
“What—what’re you doing here? I thought—I thought?—“
“You thought what, that I’d be long fucking gone ‘cause you sold me like a fucking dog?” I sneer, leaning down into his face and gripping his collar.
“I—I’m sorry! I had to figure out a way to pay off those debts or else we all would’ve been killed! You don’t understand!” He babbles. “And you were the most logical choice, you’ve fought your whole life and so I thought maybe you’d actually have a chance at surviving those things! And look! I was right!”
He waves at me before he taps my arm to try and get me to put him down.
I don’t.
I’m disgusted, as I stare down at him.
I can’t believe I looked up to him as a kid.
“You think Iwantedto fight since I was a fucking teenager, Dad? You think I wanted to worry about us losing the house and being out on the streets whenever I fucking lost a fight?”
“N—no! But son, you?—“
“Do notSonme,” I hiss, shaking him.
He’s an alpha, but a sorry one at that. The only thing I got from him was my size, but his is mostly made up of useless pudge from his diet of junk food and beer. Mine is made from muscle. I’ve been more dominant than him since I turned 18.
He doesn’t stand a chance against me and he knows it.
“You—You’re back now, right?” He asks, still continuing to fucking talk. “I’ve been winning my bets recently! Going small so I don’t rack up anymore, now that the big ones have been cleared out, you don’t have to worry about me anymore!”
I shake my head. “The fact that you’re still fucking betting money this family doesn’t fucking have is telling me enough shit. That doesn’t matter to me.”
“What—what’re you here for, then! There has to be a reason you came back!”
“I’m here for some contacts. For the fight ring and the ring girls at The Warehouse,” I say, shoving him back down into the sofa.
“You’re gonna fight for us again?” He asks. He has the audacity to blink up at me with a smile.
He has to be fucking kidding me.
“Not for you.” Never again.
“Who the hell are you?” My younger brother, Gavin says to Ash from the entryway to the den.
“None of your fucking business, kid,” Ash answers, barely giving my brother a passing glance.
“Looks like you’re back,” Gavin says, narrowing his eyes on me.
Damn. What a warm fucking welcome.
I take him in the same way he’s taking me in. He’s got bruises on his face. A nice, fresh-looking black eye and a bruise along the button of his chin like he got sucker punched and knocked clean out.
I can’t help but throw my head back in laughter.
“Oh, this is fucking good,” I say, wiping a nonexistent tear from my eye ‘cause I know it’ll piss my little shithead of a brother off.
