Page 22 of Vicious Luna
He glances back at me over his shoulder as he pulls open the fridge, lips curling in a smarmy grin. “C’mon, bro,” he scoffs. “I’ve seen what she looks like. Doesn’t seem like much of a chore to spend hours down therepumpingher for information.”
A spike of rage flares to life within me, my hands curling into fists at my sides. I grit my teeth under the effort it takes to shove it back into the cage in my mind where it belongs, knowing full well that I’m overreacting and wondering where the hell it even came from. I’m not normally quick to anger, or I at least usually maintain my composure better. Then again, I haven’t felt ‘normal’ in weeks. Not since Ben.
I’ve almost got my temper in check when Griff opens his big mouth again.
“Offer still stands if you want help,” he quips, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before nudging it closed with an elbow.
“I’m good,” I grind out.
He chuckles to himself, cracking the lid on his water bottle. “Fair enough, just let me know when you’re done with her. I’m not a friend who’s above sloppy seconds, if you catch my drift.” He waggles his brows, grinning like an idiot while lifting the bottle to his lips.
It’s like I have an out of body experience. One second, I’mstanding there as Griff spews absolute filth, and the next, I’m grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming his back against the refrigerator door. The bottle of water slips from his hand, hitting the floor with a splash while I pin him to the fridge and shove a forearm against his throat. “I’m not your fuckingfriend, Griffin,” I snarl, pressing in tighter to restrict his air and drive my point home. “I’m your superior, and you’d do well to remember that. Do we understand one another?”
Griff’s eyes go wide as saucers, his face turning red as he grapples at my arm and nods frantically.
“Say it!” I demand.
“Y-yes,” he stutters.
“Yeswhat?”
“Yes, Sir!”
I release him, taking a step backwards as the pathetic excuse for a man clutches at his throat, coughing and sputtering. He nearly slips in the water on the floor as he scrambles to move away from me, and of course that’s right when Dad walks back in from the patio.
Fucking great.
I shoot Matty a side-eyed glance, but to his credit, he wipes that deer in the headlights look off his face in an instant and goes right back to prepping Luna’s tray as if he didn’t see a thing. Smart kid.
Too bad the guys in the other room are still gawking like idiots.
My father strides toward the kitchen as Griffin hightails it out of here as if the room’s on fire, red faced and huffing. Dad watches after him curiously before turning to me and arching a brow. “What was all that about?”
“Just reminding Griff who’s in charge,” I mutter, nodding down to the phone still in my dad’s hand. “Who was it?”
“Finch was just confirming that our package was received.”
I nod slowly. “Remind me how the Luna’s supposed to factor into this plan?”
“We can discuss it later,” he replies curtly, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his jeans. “I’ve gotta get over to Boulder to meet with a potential supplier.”
“For what?” I question, not recalling any mention of a supply drop before now. We’re still armed to the teeth from the last one.
“I’ll fill you in when I get back,” he mumbles as he breezes past me, clapping a hand on my back with a nod before continuing toward the front of the house.
Something feels off about the way he’s acting, but I’m not about to press for additional information with so many of our soldiers around. They already witnessed me snap with Griff. I have no idea why my dad’s suddenly being so cagey, though, and I hate feeling like I’m left in the dark. We’re supposed to be partners in running The Guild.
“All done,” Matty announces, carrying the tray over and handing it to me proudly.
I glance down at the food as I take it from him. Not gonna lie, it looks like a decent spread. “Thanks,” I murmur, turning to head for the basement. Hopefully someone mops up the water on the floor while I’m down there because I really don’t feel like dealing with that bullshit. And hopefully Griff learned a valuable lesson about when to shut the fuck up.
After going through the motions of keying in the passcode, flipping on the lights, and grabbing the keys from the hook on the wall, I descend the steps to the basement, mentally slipping my callous hunter mask into place. It’s easy to do, since I’m still on edge after what happened in the kitchen- but as soon as I step off the last stair and meet those whiskey-brown eyes, it feels like all the anger I was carrying whooshes out of me in a single breath, the tight coil of rage inside my chest finally unwinding.
What the fuck isthat about?
“You look like shit,” Luna comments in greeting, gravitating toward the bars of her cage. She wraps her hands around them, peering out at me. “Another rough night of getting blackout drunk?”
Ignoring her heckling, I glance down at the empty tray on the floor as I approach her cell, then back up at her. “Glad you came to your senses,” I say, since she clearly took my advice and ate the damn crackers.