Page 24 of Seven Graves

The Executioner

I got her.

I wondered how long it would be after my little performance before she took care of everything I knew was firing up between her sexy tattooed legs.

I didn’t make it out of her neighborhood before the texts started firing off.

I smiled to myself, shifting gears and turning up the volume on the radio, the great Ville Valo chiming out every way I was gonna have Seven crawling to me, one way or another.

“She’ll be right here in my arms, so in loooove…”

And she will.

It’s not really a secret that all a man with an Irish soul has to do to reel one in, is what he was born to do…

sing them sweet nothings until they can’t resist us anymore.

Actually, it’s most definitely a long shot.

I have a horrid singing voice, but it’s an outlet I’m still gonna try.

Bet you she’ll be singing Jaded every day for the next week, thinking about my manhood.

I’m quite proud of this little move on the chessboard, if I do say so myself.

Even prouder that I’m riding shotgun with the Girthmaster she’s currently looking for, and I snatched that right out from under her nose without rustling a single one of her feathers.

I didn’t peek at my phone until I was pulling through the gate at the house.

Oh, she’s mad . I love it when she threatens me.

It makes all the blood go straight to my cock.

Just the sheer balls she had to poke that little fork into the hollow of my throat—now that might have got me more hard than when she held a knife to my dick.

Little Viper is a savage. I can’t stop smiling.

I still was when I pranced into the house.

Short-lived.

Bridget met me in the foyer, dressed to the nines in a red dress with a thigh split that was way too damn high for a lass her age, and heels that you’d otherwise find on a stripper.

“Where the hell have you been? And where’s your shirt? ”

“Morning, Bridget.”

I continued towards the stairs, her clacking following me every step.

“Don’t you ‘morning, Bridget’ me. Why do you smell like a tanning salon?

” I smirked and lifted the side of my jacket to get a whiff of Seven’s coconut shampoo.

“It’s almost three in the afternoon. You’ve gotta get ready.

I’ve called you a thousand times, Mal.” I paused at the top of the stairs, finally remembering why she looked like a slut about to go to the opera.

“The banquet.”

“ Yeah , the banquet. You can’t tell me to stay away from the brothers and then leave me to fend the wolves off by myself , Malek. Where were you?”

“I’m sorry, Bridge. I forgot, okay?” I tugged at a curl of copper hair by her face. “You look devastating.”

She batted my hand away, rolling her eyes with a smirk. “I know I do. Stop trying to be cute and tell me where it is you keep disappearing to. Better me than Finley.”

My head sprang up. “Finley? Whadd’ya mean?”

“You gotta stop pissin’ him off, Malek. Daddy doesn’t know that I know, but he gave Finn a hit last night after you stormed out. Your hit. And he’s supposed to be keepin’ eyes on you.”

“And you know this how? ”

“Because Finn still worships the quicksand I walk on, that’s how. He doesn’t wanna do it, but he’s not gonna say no to Daddy and you know it.”

My teeth are grinding. My jaw is set. I was in no mood to spill blood last night, but I sure as shit am now.

This is a power shift. And Pop’s trying to teach me a lesson.

So be it, then. This isn’t gonna go the way he wants it to go.

Not with the cards I’ve got up my bloody sleeve.

Now, it’s a banquet I’m looking forward to, when two seconds ago, it was the last fucking thing I wanted to do.

“Thank you. I’ll be down in a few minutes. When the banquet’s over, we’re going out. So be ready.”

“What the hell makes you think I’d wanna go out with you? You’re the worst wingman ever.”

I rolled my eyes. “You wanna know where I’m going, or not?

Stop bitchin’ and pack a bag. You’re way too overdressed.

I’m not goin’ anywhere with you lookin’ like that.

” Truthfully…she’s under dressed. Not enough fabric on her tits, her legs, or her back.

It’s setting my brotherly alarms off, and I know I’m gonna need to get it together, because the first time either of those midget-dick fucks starts eyeing her like a piece of meat…

“Fine.”

I turned on my heel and started down the hallway, leaving her behind.

“Later, brat.”

Most people have an outfit for everything.

I’d like to say that I’m different, but for times like these, I definitely have a specific getup that sets the tone that I’m not to be fucked with.

I call it my lucky shirt. It’s pinstripe, black, and fits in all the right places.

I always feel like a badass in it, and tonight…

I’m accessorizing. My face is getting sore from the smile I can’t seem to kill off.

I also need to write down whatever shampoo Seven uses.

I might smell like Malibu Ken, but my hair never looked this damn good.

Braughton’s gold ring still has dried blood caked to it, and it’s dangling from a silver chain around my neck.

I left the top few buttons open to make sure these little bitches see it.

I want them to know what’s coming for ‘em if they think either one of them is about to park their diseased cocks into my little sister. Shavonn was bad enough. This’ll never happen.

I’ll never wear dress shoes. The DNA I’ve acquired on these boots is a brand I fucking earned, and I’ll keep repairing the soles in them until they bury me in these things.

It also bothers Pop more than when he has to look at my bare feet.

I think that’s a thing. Either way…the O’Dell’s won’t be the only ones I make sweat tonight.

I checked the mirror for the last time, satisfied with what I saw, and went to meet Bridget who was waiting at the bottom of the stairwell.

Neither of us said a word as I offered my elbow and we walked to the massive dining room a couple hallways down.

Pop was seated, always impeccably dressed, at the head of the long table.

Nolan sat in the first chair to his left, all three of Braughton’s brothers next to him.

Jonas, the second oldest, is tall and thin with a straight nose, blue eyes that drop knickers, and pale unblemished skin that has neither a tattoo nor a scar to be seen.

All three of them are dark blonde and apparently have the same barber.

Zane was next to him. A bit shorter, and broader in the shoulders.

He looks like he works out. He’s the one with the shittiest attitude, and likely the one that I’ll end up killing first when things finally fire up between all of us.

The last fucker is Kendall. Silent as the grave I’ll be putting him in, but that doesn’t make him the smart one.

He’s a natural-born killer, like me. Where I love the edge of a blade, he practically blows a load at the sight of a gun. I hear he’s a collector.

How cute.

What wasn’t cute, and meant as an obvious warning, was who was in my chair at Pop’s right. Finn. The empty seat next to him is for Bridget, and they all conveniently left no others open at the table that easily sits twenty.

Nice touch, old man.

Bridget’s manicured fingers tightened on my arm.

She’s noticed it too. I patted her hand, putting on my best smile and walked her to her chair, pulling it for her without a word and holding my father’s unamused glare when I decided to stand like a soldier behind my sister.

Let Finn keep his little throne. It just shows his lack of honor and proves every point of why Bridget will never waste her time on him.

I care about Finn, and he’s book smart…but a complete fucking pushover.

I’m not about to let anybody believe that about me.

“Better late than never, Malek. New jewelry?” Jonas rested a couple fingers over his mouth, staring at me like he’d love to hack me apart. I smiled broadly, turning my lip ring.

“Nah…same one. I just added a spike. Think it gives me a little more character, ya know?” He didn’t seem to like my assumption that he wasn’t talking about the obvious. “Sorry, mate. You wouldn’t know, would you. Apologies.”

“Don’t start, Malek,” Pop groaned, adjusting his seat.

I kept my smile and focused on Jonas, wondering if he was the one Nolan was trying to set up.

It definitely seems like it. I have a feeling this little dinner is gonna run short.

Might not even get to the first course. “This table is meant ‘fer family. We’re all gathered around it to put the chaos behind and come together as a unit. We’re stronger together.

” He was addressing the table, but I knew Bridget felt the same weight I did as I stood close behind her, focused intently on the three mutts that paid her absolutely no mind.

Everything Braughton stuttered while I painstakingly gutted him started to make a bit more sense.

Not a single one seems interested in her.

We’re all being pushed. Doesn’t mean I’m letting them off for it.

Nolan cleared his throat. He looks more weathered than my father’s been starting to look here lately. “There’s already been enough blood, boys. Taxes have been paid on either side. It’s time to bury the hatchet.”

I’ll bury one. Right in his fucking skull.

They took turns making ridiculous speeches not a single one of us was interested in.

I could feel Finn’s eyes on me, but I blatantly ignored him.

Food was brought in, our finest whiskey, some champagne and other shit.

Truth is, I wouldn’t have eaten even if I’d had a seat at the table tonight.

I’ve got enough to focus on. I knew it was only a matter of time, though before one of them made it a point to call me out. Told you they weren’t smart.