by Elena Monroe
“Let’s do this already.”
Meadow pulled down her beanie after wrapping her hair inside of it as the gate clicked like it was locking instead of opening for us.
“It’s disabled. Now let's get over the wall,” she said, with too much ease. She found part of the wall gripping to her Vans, gracefully hopping over like a professional hurdler.
Looking to Meadow, she stepped on my duffle to give her leverage and made it over a little less gracefully for someone who does yoga every day.
Criminal activity is the opposite of what she accomplishes with stretching.
Jasper didn’t let his eyes stray from the computer when he spoke, “I’m good right here. I’ll keep my eyes on the alarms and police calls.”
Slapping him a high five, I went over the brick wall the same as Meadow had, landing on my feet on the other side. I know we all breathe the same air; that’s not something the rich can manipulate. Yet when I breathed it in now, it felt different. Maybe it was Vic still lingering in the air. Ignoring it, I followed Grace, who was only half invested, not like me.
I knew I needed to take charge when I picked up the pace and stood at the side door leading to their kitchen that I remembered. Snickering to myself, I realized this side door was typically for the help so they’d go unseen. I was using it just how they intended, and that alone boiled inside of me.
I was plotting my revenge, and I still ended up doing exactly what they wanted.
None of this was ill conceived or considered bad behavior.
“Open it.” I let my urgency ripple towards Grace as she bent down to look at it more closely.
After a few seconds, she twisted the knob and let the door push open, letting me go first. Seeing the fake gun in the back of my jeans, Meadow grabbed my arm, yanking me back on the safe side of the threshold. “A gun?! We don’t use guns.”
Whisper shouting back, I pulled it out and squeezed the trigger showing her it’s a blow torch—no bullets and not much harm, unless you liked to play with fire.
Walking into someone’s house without permission felt wrong instantly. I wanted it to feel right, and that was half the problem. I needed to focus on the statement, not the mission itself.
Grace was already eyeing everything and adding up valuables in her head while I looked for the perfect place to burn a peace sign.
“If you want this to feel good, you shouldn’t be so afraid to make a mess…” she said, and she knocked over a vase full of flowers.
I glanced over at Meadow, and our eyes widened with shock, watching her criminal ways come to the surface. This was Grace’s side that we didn’t have much experience with. The only time I knew anything real about her was when she showed up at my door with a black eye and needed a couch to sleep on.
I watched her fingers push over another decorative piece that I didn’t get to take in before it shattered onto the hardwood floors, taunting me to twist this however I could, to make the anger go away.
There was a small lamp in the hallway we were in towards the back of the house, away from the upstairs bedrooms. My fingers pushed it, until it toppled over the edge, and I could feel Meadow burning into me with her silent warnings.
Not heeding a single one, I found a family photo to throw to the ground.
That was the straw that broke Meadow’s back, and she announced she was going to watch the door and left me with Grace’s bad side.
The blank wall next to the front door was perfectly untouched. It was in eye shot of the staircase, and something you couldn’t miss when you came or went from the front door.
It was perfect.
Burning the peace sign into crisp white walls felt therapeutic, while I watched the wall become coffee colored as I branded myself into their lives like a nightmare. Pulling out a thick marker, I scribbled under the burnt peace sign: Everything seems real until you shake the truth from it.
Vic would know what it meant, and he’d have no choice but to explain it to his father with the mean streak. It was the least I could do. He left me with such a nice gesture the day my best friend sunk deeper into their dramatics. Now it was my turn to leave him wondering what might come next.
Once I finished my work of art, we left the same way we came in, this time in more of a hurry. I grabbed Meadow by the hoodie, pulling her beside me and hauling ass to the brick wall. Launching myself back over it seemed easier, flying high on adrenaline.
Taking some deep breaths with my hands on my knees, I felt too jacked up to really slow down now. I wanted to go to the next house on my list and leave my mark, but I heard a familiar voice shout my nickname: “Jus!”
Everything in me snapped upright at attention when I saw my Grams in her old forest green Ford Bronco.
I swallowed down the bravery, the way her sharp tone suggested, when I walked to the sidewalk she was stopped along. “What are you doing here, Grams?”
She didn’t even bother looking at me with her grip on the steering wheel so tight I watched her hands look stronger for the first time in a while. “Get in the car. Now.”
Normally, I challenge everyone and everything, but not Grams. She was all I had left tethering me to this world. I knew better than to push away the one person who saved me from myself. Without Grams, I’m just a brat with a bad attitude and taste for fighting. With her support, I’m a change no one sees coming until it’s too late. I’m living up to my name for her sake.
I slumped down in the passenger seat like a child who was caught in the act of something terrible and scolded in front of all my friends, awaiting my punishment once we gained some privacy.
The entire drive home, Grams was scarily silent, until she got off the highway, our exit, and she decided to speak for the first time. “I’m getting old, Justice. I’m not invincible you know. I don’t have the strength to keep you in line anymore.”
That stung.
“I’m old enough to make mistakes, fall on my face, and regret things without your permission.” All the angst came up my throat like bitterness.
“I don’t want to die that way, Justice! I want to know you’re a stable and independent woman who can take care of yourself!” she shouted back, offering very little room for interpretation.
“You aren’t dying. You aren’t that old yet…”
She coughed on the stale air with tension between us that you could slice with your finger, no sharp edge required. The cough rattled in her chest and was much more drawn out than I expected. When she drew back her hand, I saw the red specs of blood on her knuckles making my stomach drop right down to Hell, where it belonged.
Grams was that old or was dying right in front of me?
How did I not notice the coughing?
Something was wrong, and I was making it worse by acting out like a jealous ex, scorned woman, and cowardly child.
They deserved every bit of justice, but Grams deserved the same support she’s given me all these years when she needed it most.
VIC
I woke up planning to actually show up to work, when I got out of the shower after yoga with Abigail. I didn’t expect to become close with her, not closer than the four of us anyways.
Maybe I was holding onto something of Justice.
Maybe the women between us were holding us together better than we could ourselves.
My phone was ringing on my nightstand over and over, not stopping, even when I hit ignore. Looking at the missed calls, I had thirteen from Bowen and four from my dad, all in the half hour I was showering off the hippie smell before everyone assumed I had a mental breakdown at work.
I hadn’t slipped the mask back into place in a while. It was made of iron and weighing down everything I liked about being free.
Swallowing down everything in me that I liked, I slipped right back into the Golden Boy everyone knew when I pressed my dad’s contact and put it on speaker phone. “You called? I worked out and rinsed off.”
My dad wasn’t the kind of man who called you more than once, begged f
or attention, or even repeated himself. He commanded your attention, just like Grimm’s dad forced you to be on the edge of your seat. They all had their ways of living this life.
Ones I hope we don’t inherit.
While it rang, I texted Bowen back, curious as to what the fuck he could have needed to say thirteen times.
ME: This is a little early for you. Didn’t drink yourself to sleep?
My dad finally picked up while I pulled up my dress pants and left them hanging open while I found a shirt to tuck into them.
“We have a problem.” He paused, letting me soak it in, until he spoke again: “Your girlfriend left me a present this morning. A message for you perhaps?”
The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. He was waiting impatiently for a response by the heavy sigh I heard escape his lips.
“I’ll be over there before work.” I was compromising. At least that’s what the version of me wearing this mask decided. The real me underneath? Just wanted to be served a piece of justice.
BOWEN: Dante is a snitch. Zeus is at the office waiting for you.
ME: Keep him busy. I have other problems to deal with.
BOWEN: Better clean up whatever you need to. Think of this as death at your door.
Clamping my eyes closed, I contemplated the problems waiting for me—problems belonging to a man who no longer exists without this mask.
I pretty much broke every speed limit on the way to my dad’s house. I was just there last night, pleading my case to marry a woman of my choosing and even went as far as bringing options in a briefcase attached to a jeweler. With Eve being dropped in LA to be courted by Bowen, and the blood oath we had to do for Grimm, I knew I needed a plan for myself.
Justice was going to be my wife no matter what, even with her not speaking to me right now.
My dad didn’t bite when I gave him some good reasons to let me marry who I wanted, and it wasn’t a shock. He only liked his own ideas; I was painfully aware.
Clave rules or my dad—neither was going to stop me from winning her back.
Pulling up his long driveway, I saw the cop cruisers and Grimm, standing outside with a joint between his fingers, looking more annoyed than usual. Getting out of my car, confused, I shot him a look and threw my arms out by my sides. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Why else does anyone call me? A hit. A mark. A death certificate. Guess who that is this time?”
A wave of panic crashed against every inch of my mask, cracking it in the process, when my mind connected dots that didn’t exist. For just a second, I imagined Justice dead, and I bolted into the house, like I was about to save her life, when I walked into a trap.
I didn’t see a body bag or a sheet covering up her remains, so I took a deep breath, seeing the burned wallpaper and sheetrock with a peace sign.
She was here.
This close.
Sending me a message in the same way I toyed with people I made disappear.
My fingers ran over the peace sign that wasn’t there last night when I left. If she only knew how much I was protesting against my old life in the hopes of a new one with her, maybe she would have been smarter when it came to challenging the Clave.
My dad waved me down the hallway, past the police and Grimm’s dad, who gave me chills the moment I looked at him. Ducking into his office towards the back of the hall, I fixed my cracked mask the best way I could, when you outgrow something broken.
“What’s this all about? Clave likes things quiet,” I said, looking down and thinking so quickly about outcomes, fall out, strategies to winning the war she’d now started.
His backhand crushed against my cheek bone, sending a wake of goosebumps up my spine, crawling up the back of my head.
“Do you think I’m stupid? You need to handle this before the Clave does. How could you be so damn reckless? I raised you better.” His voice could have broken bones in another world.
“You raised me to win, which is what I’m fucking doing. Nobody touches her.” I spat out the words, still choking on the sting of his heavy Clave ring.
“It's business now. She knows our secrets, and you let her waltz right out of your life with them, like some lovesick puppy. Get out of my fucking office.”
I slammed the door behind me, still shaking with anger, and the damage of his ring still pulsing on my face. I pushed past Grimm’s dad, who looked at me like he could see through my mask. I wouldn’t be surprised, because I’ve outgrown it, and my dad’s swift hand just ripped it off my face completely.
Grimm was still outside, waiting for orders, just far away enough from their bullshit. He was always just outside the bullshit, straddling being Clave and himself effortlessly.
I hated him for it. He knew who he was, and our fucked up lives were just an inconvenience to that kind of truth.
“You don’t go near her, Reaper.”
We stood neck to neck, and I could see his lips twist up into a smirk, before taking a long drag, while taking inventory of my emotions. “You were so for killing off the ones we don’t need. I only do as I’m told.”
He shrugged in a way that made me want to hurt him. Payback for spitting in my face when it came down to his precious Abigail in the line of fire. Fisting his Pantera shirt, I yanked him closer to me, making sure he understood I was giving him orders and making my stance clear. “I’m telling you she’s needed and to do as I am telling you.”
He laughed, not afraid of me at all. How could he be? Death doesn’t fear anything.
Letting go of his shirt, I left the scene of the crime, not caring that she ruined my dad’s house, leaving them the same message as she did for me on my desk. I cared that she cared enough to fight with me, even if it was through other people.
I didn’t break any speed limits on the way to the office. Zeus could wait if he wanted to talk to me. I was done letting the Clave force me into being anything I’m not. Real winners don’t bow to anyone.
Pulling into my reserved spot, I felt the tension in the air as I got out and saw Dante, sitting in the van, parked next to the entrance doors, dressed in his expensive suit.
Everyone wanted to give me a message today.
Leave a message at the beep, because I don’t care.
Giving him a middle finger as I walked by, he smirked. “Bring that attitude. Zeus will bury you, boy.”
Empty threats.
No one hurts me.
No one even contemplates it.
The only person to even succeed was too far away to hurt the same anymore.
Bowen was waiting at the front desk, sitting there with two shots waiting for me. “This isn’t good, Vic. He’s fucking pissed. He made Khaos break, and he went home. He knows about Dante and Justice.”
“What about Justice?” I was comprehending it, but my mind was still at the crime scene back at my dad’s. My words that she threw back at me swirled around my head.
… until you shake the truth out.
His hand pushed me, trying to get all of my attention. “He knows she doesn’t work here anymore and that no one put her down.”
Zeus wasn’t the only one who knew. If my dad knew, then so did the other’s dads. They were a cohesive unit, unlike the current Horsemen.
Shooting the shot back, I took a deep inhale, ready to face another firing squad, just as when Zeus came out of an empty back office. “You avoiding me? I’m much needier than that.”
Zeus was larger than life. He was covered in tattoos like Grimm with white hair and neat facial hair that only made him look more tough. I couldn’t read him. He was the embodiment of fun, yet his eyes were dead, like he was faking it.
Too well.
No one likes when someone is too much of a mirror. That’s all I saw when I looked at him: the old me.
His voice was thunderous and bellowed in the open office: “Everyone out. Take the day off.”
Everyone looked to Bowen and me to confirm that it was okay to make a move that wouldn’t cost
them later. He may own the Clave, but no one knows to be scared of him, unless we tell them to be.
“Heard you wanna talk to me, because I insulted your boy by shooting him down. Damn bullet proof armor.”
His monstrous hand grabbed the nape of my neck and forced me into my own office as he told Bowen to beat it. Bowen looked frozen and helpless in a way I knew stemmed from all the shit he had been through.
He didn’t like surprises.
He didn’t like not being able to do anything.
And he didn’t trust strangers.
This was way too far outside the boundaries Bowen kept himself within. I gave him a look, releasing him from any further trauma I knew could push him over the edge. Zeus pushed me into my cleaned off desk. No one bothered cleaning up my office after I had trashed it.
Catching myself, I felt his hands grip my hair and yank my head back towards his lips. “You gonna fuck me or intimidate me?”
“Don’t tempt me, pretty boy. I’m giving you a second chance to live up to the rules I’ve given you. Kill her, or I kill you.”
His constraints let go, and I was free until his shadow, Alba, manhandled me like he was made of pure steel and muscles.
I had a small percentage of fat that I was convinced was working against me right now.
Slamming me down in my office chair that I hadn’t used in weeks seemed like some kind of insult in and of itself, but then I felt Alba zip tie my wrists down to the armrests.
Bowen stepped into the office, still shook and not much help, even if he did make a last move. “We can fix this,” he pleaded in his flat voice.
“You’re still here? Leave no man behind, huh? And here I thought the Horsemen hated each other...” Zeus taunted him with information we already knew.
Chains may bind us, but we were a long way from allies.
My tormentors ignored his presence, and Bowen stayed quiet, watching, waiting, stalking his prey, like he normally did.