35. Thirty-Five #2
We knew this wasn’t news. After everything that had happened in the last two weeks it was obvious my brother was well aware of my relationships with the men in my life.
But, as Xavi had explained to us yesterday, ‘curiosity is a powerful motivator,’ his rationale for Mitchell’s cooperation in the first place, ‘and that if we want information, we need to offer some up as bait first.’ Xavier’s plan hinged on Mitchell being unable to resist one-upping Cole.
Mitchell’s cackle told me it was working.
“You’re way behind, Michaels. Of course she’s fucking them both. That’s old news. The real fucking shocker is that the two of them are also fucking each other. Quee-”
Whatever homophobic trash was about to come spewing out of Mitchell’s mouth was stopped short when Xav let out a shrill whistle.
The signal that sent all three guys into action.
Brennon and Xav threw themselves over the ledge, the thick climbing rope we’d snagged from the Lands Shed on the way here pulled taut between them.
There wasn’t a single person at Agonde who could match Xav for speed, nor Cole for brute strength.
With one arm hooked underneath Mitchell’s and the other wrapped around the back of his neck, Cole was able to hold him in place.
Mitchell kicked and flexed, trying to break free of Cole’s hold, but with his arm jutting out, he looked one wrong move away from dislocating his own shoulder.
Not that it mattered either way because Brennon and Xav worked together to loop the rope around him until Greer was trussed up like the animal he was.
Cole released his hold the second the two ends of the rope were knotted together. We’d left his legs free and one arm, only because Cole had needed something to grip, but the second the boys stepped back, Mitchell tried to crawl forward and toppled over.
“Tsk, tsk,” Brennon derided, “Hard to lift that inflated chest on those scrawny little chicken legs.”
“That’s why you never skip leg day,” Cole joined in on the joke, and he and Brennon shared matching half-smirks. I was still so angry at Cole, but even I could admit that right now it was nice to be a team. The four of us against the world.
Xavier’s already thin patience snapped.
“Where’s Francis?”
Mitchell sniggered, but otherwise didn’t answer. So, Xavi kicked him in the gut. Hard enough that the ogre wheezed.
“Where’s Francis?”
This time, he did answer, although not helpfully.
“I dunno. Why don’t you ask her?” He tilted his head in my direction.
I crossed my arms over my chest and grimaced back in his smug face.
This time it was Cole that kicked him. It was an offhand kick, but still enough for Mitchell’s spine to cave in a little.
“Okay. How about you tell us what happened to the kids then?”
Mitchell stared up at Cole in confusion, “What?”
“Alison, Jonathan, HOLLY?! Where are they?”
“Michaels, bro, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“First, I’m not your bro. Second, if you don’t give us an answer right now, I’m going to let Xavier over here kick the ever-loving shit out of you. Again.”
Xavi smirked, “I did so enjoy it the last time.”
“You think you’re all so fucking special,” Mitchell whined from his knees, “Especially her.” His eyes glaze over me and focused, instead, on the boys.
“I’m surprised you’re all so willing to fight for that used up cunt considering dear old dad got there first,” He sneered, and the dark door in the recesses of my mind creaked open, my father’s face poking through.
“No,” I mumbled to myself, so low none of the boys or Mitchell even noticed.
“And then there’s her brother. Do you know what he’s going to do to her once he gets his hands on her?”
He looked at me with a smile that was nearly as evil as that of my brother.
Francis’ influence had unleashed something inside him.
Something that not even a slap from Cole, hard across his face, could purge.
I caught a glimpse of it the day they held me down and marked me, but Brennon had saved me from getting the full psychopath treatment at their hands.
Now we were all witnessing it. As if to prove my point, he ignored the red sting on his skin and cackled right in Cole’s face, “And let’s not forget about poor Nick.
Buried out here in the woods. Poor fucker didn’t even get to experience the full ride, did he An-toi-nette, just a little third base action before you clocked him real good. ”
It was impossible not to freeze. We all did. Mitchell had dropped enough hints to Cole that he knew that we were involved in Nick’s disappearance. But what he said next made it clear he didn’t just know, he’d seen the whole damn thing.
“Imagine just trying to get your rocks off, and a girl half your size manages to beat your skull in,” he chortled, “Pathetic.”
“It won’t seem so pathetic when we let Toni carve her revenge into that inflated chest of yours,” Brennon hissed, handing me the knife from his pocket. The same one he’d used to stab my brother.
The favour I’d asked of Abbi, even though she owed me nothing after we’d wrecked her shit and left her to pick up our slack, was to borrow Riley’s knife.
If we asked, he might have said yes, but there was an even chance he’d have said no, especially with what we planned to do with it.
But if the ask came from Abbi, we all knew he’d say yes.
They were in love, even if she had denied it to my face any time I asked.
It shone in their eyes any time they so much as looked at each other.
I hoped my own love for Brennon shone just as brightly back at him now.
My rockstar. Never one for violence, always ready to meet the world with sarcasm and a joke.
Except, when we’d talked about today, about our plan, when Xavi’s eyes glimmered as he offered me an opportunity for revenge, Brennon had been nothing but encouraging.
For a second, Mitchell eyed the knife’s edge, and a flash of fear crossed his face.
But then, like so many men do, he buried it under false bravado and the kind of easy misogyny that leaches out of men like him, like my brother, like my father, and a million others who walk this earth every day.
Hating women for everything from the clothes they wear to their unwillingness to smile on command.
Hating us for every no’ they believe should have been a ‘yes, of course,’ just because they are, and I quote, ‘the nice guy’ and so many other idiotic reasons.
All of them petty, imagined, and utterly shitty.
“Pffffft, she won’t do it,” he rolled his eyes, looking anywhere but at the metal reflecting his own face back at him.
“Won’t I?” I threatened. My voice was sharpened, hard and brittle all at once.
I stepped forward, knife held high in one hand, ready to grab his shirt in the other.
I was going to cut if off, expose him, the same way he and Francis had done to me.
At my back, I felt the boys, one by one huddle closer.
Ready to step in if Mitchell tried anything.
He didn’t. He didn’t flinch or cower. Just gave another nauseating grin while staring up at me.
“Couldn’t do it then. Won’t do it now.”
My hand faltered. The knife dropped. Instantly, Xavi lunged forward. Of course he was the first to grasp what my mind was struggling to process. He twisted the neck of Mitchell’s t-shirt in his hand until the larger man was nearly choking, before biting out, “What are you talking about?”
Greer coughed a couple of times and Xav loosened his hold, but only enough to let him talk. When he didn’t answer right away, it was Cole’s turn to kick him. This time his sneakered foot landed right in Mitchell’s rib cage.
“Answer him.”