Fallen Bast*rd

Chapter Four – The Games We Play

Willa 17 Years Old

“You’re not my father, Dex!”

I slammed my bedroom door hard enough to rattle the frame, marching across the room. I kicked off my boots and threw myself onto my king-size bed.

“Bloody Dex,” I muttered into the ceiling. “Who does he think he is?”

President of the Soulless Bastards, technically. My older brother, unfortunately.

But definitely not my father.

I wasn’t part of his band of merry misfits.

A reluctant smile pulled at my lips as I replayed the disaster.

“Willa. My office. Now.” Dex hadn’t shouted. That would’ve been less worrying.

He’d simply appeared beside the table where I’d been sitting in the clubhouse common room, issued the order, then turned and walked away as though I were a loyal dog who came to heel wherever he called.

As soon as his back turned, I rolled my eyes. I’m not suicidal.

By the time I reached his office, he was already behind his desk. I strolled inside without knocking, wearing the most innocent smile I could conjure.

“You rang, sir?” I dropped into the armchair opposite him.

Dex’s jaw tightened. “It’s customary to knock.”

“I’m Sorry. Did you demand my presence to discuss customs?”

His fingers flattened against the desk. Right, he was not just angry; he was raging.

I should’ve fled to Demi’s house while I still had the chance.

Demitri had been our friend since childhood. His family wasn’t club-affiliated, which meant his home was one of the few places Dex couldn’t casually appear and drag me back by the collar.

Dex pushed away from the desk and stood. “You hacked Byte.”

Ah. I’d wondered when that particular chicken would come home to roost.

“Yes.”

His eyes narrowed at my easy confession.

“But, in my defence, I found the person responsible for stealing from the club and reported it. That should make us roughly even.”

“Even?”

“More or less.”

“You hacked a Fallen Sinners brother.”

“Technically, I was only inside Byte’s system.”

“That doesn’t improve the situation.”

“Not even a tiny bit.”

“No, Willa. It bloody doesn’t.”

I shrugged as though I didn’t know what I’d done was wrong. I did. I simply objected to admitting it while being interrogated.

Dex came around the desk and perched on its edge. For several seconds, he studied me.

That unsettled me more than the shouting.

Dex rarely said exactly what he meant when he was hurt. He’d joke, threaten, issue orders or become unnaturally calm, but the truth hid in the small things.

Like the way he rubbed his thumb against the edge of his ring. Or how his shoulders had gone rigid.

Then there was the fact that he kept looking at me like there was a question he refused to ask. Why didn’t you come to me?

He didn’t have to verbalise it. I knew.

I was his little sister. Had I asked him for money, equipment, a building or half the bloody moon, he’d have tried to find a way to give it to me.

Georgie was different. Or perhaps she wasn’t anymore.

Something had shifted between her and Dex over the past year. Quiet conversations when they thought nobody was watching. Looks that lasted a moment too long. Georgie finding reasons to be wherever he happened to be.

Neither of them admitted it. Which naturally meant everyone else knew.

Finding out we’d built the programme without him had wounded something Dex would rather destroy furniture than acknowledge.

“You and Georgie created a skimming programme,” he said.

I folded my arms. “We created a model.”

“You used it.”

“Not against the club.”

“Apparently that’s supposed to make me feel better.”

“It should.”

“And Demitri?”

I blinked. Then shrugged.

Dex’s stare sharpened. “You expect me to believe Demi knew nothing about this?”

“Demi isn’t a hacker.”

“He doesn’t need to be. His family has access to accounts, companies, and people you two don’t.”

Man had a point. And maybe he’d let me use my Grasshopper app around people within his ‘family’ that weren’t supportive of him and his brother, and maybe my Grasshopper fetched me some valuable information.

Dex rose so suddenly that the chair legs scraped against the floor. “This isn’t a bloody joke, Wills.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” His palm struck the desk.

I startled.

“You hacked another club, then I find out you and Georgie have been skimming money from people you’ve decided deserve it.”

“Non-allies,” I corrected.

“That distinction isn’t helping.”

“No club. No friends. No family.”

“Oh, brilliant. Shall I put that on your defence statement?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being reckless.”

The words cracked through the room.

“No wonder Dad and Butch retired early. The pair of you can’t behave like normal people for five bloody minutes.”

That one landed like a punch to the throat.

My smile disappeared.

Dex saw it. Regret flashed across his face, but pride kept the apology trapped behind his teeth.

I understood his anger. Understanding, though, didn’t mean I intended to surrender.

“Sorry,” I said, pushing myself out of the chair. “Next time, I’ll try harder not to get caught.”

The silence lasted less than a second.

Then Dex exploded. His fist came down on the desk.

There was a sharp c***k. One moment it was a desk

The next, the centre had collapsed beneath his hand, splitting the polished wood and sending papers sliding towards the floor.

I stared at the wreckage. Then at him. And then a laugh escaped before I could stop it.

Wrong choice. Very wrong choice.

“Willa!”

I bolted.

Dex chased me out of his office, swearing creatively enough that several brothers in the common room paused in admiration.

I didn’t stop running until I reached Mum and Dad’s house.

My phone rang, pulling me back into my bedroom.

I reached into my pocket and smiled at Georgie’s name.

“Did you get a bollocking too?”

“Did I get a bollocking?” she asked. “Ax gave me an entire speech about loyalty, consequences and apparently having no sense of self-preservation.”

I laughed. “Dex broke his desk.”

Silence.

“The big desk?”

“The enormous, pretentious one.”

“That thing looked like it was carved from an entire tree.”

“Now it looks like kindling.”

Georgie began laughing. “You laughed, didn’t you?”

“Possibly.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Says the woman who wrote the programme.”

“I told you we should’ve let them find the thief themselves. But oh no, you had to rub the hack in Byte’s face.”

“He called his system impenetrable.”

“So?”

“He made it sound like a challenge.”

“It wasn’t.”

“It was to me.”

She groaned.

“Sorry you got dragged into it,” I added.

“You do realise we technically got away with everything else?”

The laughter returned to her voice. “The brothers are furious about the hack and the programme, but nobody’s asked where the money went.”

My gaze drifted towards the spare laptop on the floor. “They won’t find it. No body no crime”

“I know.”

The accounts were buried beneath layers neither Byte nor Zero had taught us.

Everything had been divided, redirected and hidden for the day the three of us were ready to build something of our own.

Not that anyone needed to know that yet.

I rolled onto my stomach. “Fancy stirring the pot again?”

A cautious pause followed. “What are you suggesting?”

“You know what they say. While the cats are away…”

“The mice go clubbing?”

“Exactly.”

Our parents were out of town. Butch, Lilly, Dad and Mum had left together that morning, trusting our brothers to keep the compound—and us—under control.

Big mistake.

“Inferno?” Georgie asked.

“As though there’s anywhere else worth going.”

Inferno belonged to the Costa brothers, mostly to Alex Demitri’s older brother, who was six years older than us and was already being prepared to take over their family.

Whatever that meant in practical terms, everyone treated him like a future king.

Dark, exclusive and difficult to enter unless Alexi knew your name.

Unfortunately for him, he’d known ours since we were children.

His standing order was simple: Demi escorted us, and we stayed in the private VIP rooms where security could keep an eye on us.

We never do.

“I already texted Demi,” I said. “He’ll pick us up.”

“Of course you did.”

“Wear the black dress.”

“The short one?”

“The dangerous one.”

Georgie laughed. “What are you wearing?”

I looked towards my wardrobe.

“Something sinful.”

Inferno

Inferno pulsed with music, colour and heat.

The dance floor stretched beneath me, crowded bodies moving under shifting red and gold lights. Above it, the VIP level curved around the club like a dark glass balcony, private enough to hide in but open enough to watch everything below.

Exactly where Alexi had ordered us to remain, naturally, we lasted less than twenty minutes.

Demi had disappeared into the crowd with Georgie shortly after we arrived. They claimed they were dancing.

I knew both of them too well to believe anything involving those particular smiles was ever anything innocent.

Still, let them keep their secrets; we all have one or two that should be kept private. Even I have a few.

Strong hands settled lightly at my waist; smiling, I instantly knew who it was before I turned.

Bryce smiled down at me.

Demi’s cousin on his mother’s side had always carried himself with the kind of confidence reserved for rich f**k boys. He was a walking red flag.

“Hey, stranger,” I said.

His gaze moved over my face. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Have I?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you’ve been easy to avoid.” He laughed, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead.

The gesture was innocent. The memory attached to it wasn’t.

Nothing explicit had ever needed to be said between us. Not when a glance could bring back late-night escapades, stolen kisses and choices neither of us had any interest in regretting.

“Where are the others?” he asked.

“Demi and Georgie went back towards VIP.” That was technically the direction they’d travelled in.

Whether they’d arrived was another matter.

“You escaped?”

“I wanted to dance.”

Bryce offered his hand. “Then dance.”

I let him pull me into the crowd.

The dress had been an excellent decision.

Black, fitted and short enough to annoy every older brother within a five-mile radius, it moved with me beneath the lights. My heels brought me closer to Bryce’s height, although he still had several inches on me.

His hands remained at my waist as we moved. Familiar, comfortable.

Dangerous in the way old habits always were.

I turned, my back brushing his chest, and let the music drown out all the day’s unpleasantness.

The argument. The shattered desk and the quiet question he hadn’t been able to ask.

Why didn’t you trust me?

I trusted him. That was never the problem.

I wanted one thing in my life that hadn’t been given to me because I was Bear’s daughter or Blade’s little sister.

Something Georgie and I built ourselves.

Bryce’s hand tightened slightly as I turned back towards him.

Then I saw him…West.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor. Still.

Imposing, and unnaturally still.

The lights moved over his face, but his eyes never left mine. For years, I’d wanted him to look at me.

Really look. Not as Dex’s little sister.

Not as Willabear.

But as Willa.

The woman I was becoming.

Now he was looking. And something in his expression stole the breath from my lungs.

I smirked.

Bryce followed my gaze, understanding dawning in his eyes.

He leaned closer. “You trying to make him jealous?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Course you don’t.” His amusement warmed my ear.

I curled my hand around the back of his neck and leaned close enough to whisper.

“Just dance.”

Bryce obeyed. The music changed, slower and heavier, and we moved together beneath the lights.

And West watched every step, every roll and sway of my hips.

Every time Bryce’s hand returned to my waist.

His jaw tightened. His shoulders went rigid.

It looked like the sight of us had struck some hidden nerve he’d spent years pretending didn’t exist.

For once, though, he wasn’t looking away.

A thrill ran through me.

I tilted my head towards Bryce, intending to say something, but movement caught at the edge of my vision.

One moment Bryce’s hands were at my waist. The next, they were gone.

West stood in front of me. So close I could feel his body heat.

His chest rose and fell beneath his shirt, his stare fixed on mine with an intensity that made the crowded nightclub disappear.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. The music thundered around us, lights flashed.

Bodies moved, and none of it mattered.

Ax looked at me as though he’d finally reached the end of an argument he’d been having entirely with himself.

And judging by the expression on his face, he’d lost.