Teller
Rage is onlyhelpful if it doesn’t cloud my ability to form a plan of attack. I take a breath, forcing air into my lungs. Clear head. Singular purpose.
Save Carter.
Punish anyone who hurt him.
There’s a hesitant knock on the front door. I count the brothers in front of me. Rooster, Grinder, and Jigsaw have all slipped into the house at some point.
That only leaves one person who should be at the front door.
Merlin.
Wrath leaves the kitchen to let him in.
The second Merlin’s rusty voice hits my ears, I’m on the move.
My boots rapidly clunk over the hardwood as I storm down the hallway.
It’s been a couple of years, but I’d recognize this gnarled jerk anywhere.
He opens his mouth to greet me.
In two smooth movements, I whip my forearm against his neck, pressing him backward until he hits the wall. He lets out a surprised gasp for air.
I slip my hunting knife out of the sheath by my hip and press the tip under his chin, cocking his head at an awkward angle.
“You piece of shit,” I snarl. “This is on you.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hello to you too, Teller.”
“Don’t get fucking cute with me.” I dig the tip of the knife deeper into his flesh, not yet drawing blood, but close. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t slit your throat.”
He doesn’t flinch. “I got none.”
“Easy, Marcel.” Not even Rock’s deep, presidential tone calms me. “Put the knife away.”
The war inside me rages. Obey my president? Or tell my father to fuck off? I hate both options for different reasons.
“You here to help or get in the way?” Wrath asks Merlin, stepping up next to me, not even attempting to take the knife out of my hand.
At my back, I sense the rest of my brothers forming a wall between this scene and the girls.
“Marcel,” Rock says, still calm but firm. “Put the knife away. Now. We’ll talk this out at the table.”
No matter how badly I want to separate Merlin’s useless head from his shoulders, I can’t continue to disrespect Rock like this in front of everyone.
Merlin also might be the only one with any answers.
Without taking my eyes off him, I lower the knife and tuck it into its sheath.
“That’s it,” Grinder says in a low voice.
Rock’s hand lands on my shoulder and yanks me backward. My arm drops from Merlin’s throat. He bends over, coughing and choking on the sudden intake of air.
“Thanks, Rock,” he gasps.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Rock seethes. “You piss me off, I’ll blow a hole in your skull myself.”