Her craving, His brother

Chapter 9: Boundaries

Briggs’ POV

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Fedric’s voice comes out sharper than I expected, but not stronger. He’s already stepping backward. Already realizing this isn’t a conversation.

The door shuts behind me with a quiet click.

Riki moves in after me, casual, almost bored, but I know him well enough to see the alertness underneath it.

Fedric keeps moving until the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed. He stops, not because he wants to. Because he has to.

“What? Are you going to beat me up now?” he asks, forcing out a laugh that doesn’t quite land.

I don’t answer immediately, I take my time. Let the silence sit and stretch enough for him to feel it.

Then—

“Yes.” I step forward. “Hands down.”

His smile falters, just slightly.

“Why did you think you could lay hands on my worker?” I continue, voice calm, and controlled.

“And record her,” I added. “And then threaten her on top of that?”

He raises his hands defensively. “Briggs, listen—”

“No,” I cut in. “You listen.”

He swallows, then shifts his weight. Still trying to hold onto something. Control, authority, whatever illusion he walked into this room with.

“But I’m VIP,” he says quickly. “You can’t just come in here and—”

“I can do whatever I want.” My voice doesn’t change, not even slightly.

“And you?” I take another step forward. “You crossed a line you don’t come back from.”

He scoffs, weak, desperate.

“You can’t just beat me up,” he says. “I pay a lot of money to you.”

There it is, money. They always fall back on that.

“I don’t care about your money,” I say simply.

His expression flickers.

“I don’t care that you’re VIP.”

Another step closer now. Close enough that he can’t pretend this isn’t happening.

“You had no right to record her without her consent.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head.

“You’re overreacting.”

That’s when I hit him. The sound is clean and sharp. His head snaps to the side, his body stumbling slightly before he catches himself against the table. For a second, he just stands there, processing.

Then—

“What the hell—?!”

I don’t let him finish another punch. This time harder, more direct. He crashes into the chair behind him, knocking it over as he goes down.

Riki steps aside smoothly, giving me space, not interfering or stopping me.

Fedric scrambles, trying to regain balance, panic starting to bleed through his voice.

“Wait—wait—!”

I grab him by the collar, dragging him up just enough so he’s forced to face me.

“You thought this was a game?” I ask quietly.

He shakes his head rapidly. “No—no, I didn’t—”

“You did.”

His eyes darted around the room, looking for something, anything. Then suddenly—

“I’m on live!” he blurts out.

I pause, just for a second.

“I’m on live!” he repeats, louder this time, desperation creeping in. “Everything you’re doing right now is being recorded!”

Riki lets out a low chuckle behind me. I don’t react, not outwardly.

“Imagine the damage,” Fedric continues, gaining a little confidence now. “To your brand. Your club. Everything you built—”

“I don’t care.” The words come out flat, final.

His mouth opens, closes it.

“If you have the money for pleasure,” I continue, tightening my grip on his collar, “then you should have the balls for what comes with it.”

And then I hit him again. This time he doesn’t try to stand nor talk. He just takes it. Because now, he understands. This isn’t about money or status. This is about consequence.

I release him, letting him drop back onto the floor. He coughs, breathing uneven, one hand pressed against his side. Riki steps forward slightly now, crouching down just enough to meet his eye level.

“Still on live?” he asks casually.

Fedric hesitates, then reaches for his phone, hand shaking. He turns the screen toward us, live stream, still running.

Riki tilts his head. “Hmm.”

Then reaches over, and ends it. Fedric’s shoulders drop. Whatever confidence he had left? Gone.

I step forward again, slow and measured.

“You’re no longer a VIP member of my club,” I say.

He nods quickly. “Yes—yes, okay—”

“You’re going to pay ten thousand dollars.”

His eyes widened. “What—?”

“For damages,” I continued. “For what you did. For what you thought you could get away with.”

He hesitates, just for a second. I take one step closer. He flinches.

“…Okay,” he mutters quickly. “Okay.”

He fumbles for his phone, unlocking it with shaky fingers. Riki stands beside him now, watching.

The transfer takes less than a minute, but it feels longer. Because now, there’s no illusion left.

“Done,” he says, holding the phone up.

I glance at it briefly, then nod once. “That’s one part,” I say.

He freezes. “…One part?”

I crouch down slightly now, meeting his eye level.

“You’re going to delete every video.”

His expression tightens. “Briggs, those are—”

I don’t say anything, I don’t need to. He exhales sharply, then nods. One by one. Device after device. Phone, tablet, cloud storage, hidden folders.

Riki checks everything thoroughly. Detailed, no shortcuts. I watch, silent, until it’s done.

“All gone,” Fedric says quietly.

I study him for a second, making sure. Not just the action, but the understanding. Then I reach into my pocket, pull out the ointment and toss it at him. It lands against his chest, sliding down into his lap.

“You’ll need that,” I say.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t move. Just sit there. I stand, turn and head toward the door. But before I leave, I stop. Just for a second.

“If I ever see a video of Ellen anywhere again…”

I don’t raise my voice nor turn around.

“I’ll build you a casket.”

Silence, heavy ana final. Then I walk out, Riki follows. The door closes behind us. And just like that, It’s over.

For him.