“I would if you deserved it, prick.” Spit sprayed out of his mouth, catching me in the face.
A crowd formed around us as we rolled around on the floor, each getting in a punch, neither dominating. I caught a glimpse of Buff, though I wasn’t sure when he arrived. He and Spectre were in positions to keep people away so we could beat the shit out of each other uninterrupted. Bone was off to the side. Judging by the smug expression on his face, he’d heard Hustler. It enraged me all the more.
“Get yourself under control,” I barked.
“I’d rather smash your fucking face.”
“That ain’t happening!” I grabbed Hustler’s cut and flipped him onto his back, lifting and banging him on the ground.
Fighting a man equal in size and strength wasn’t easy, especially when he was my brother. Interestingly enough, we didn’t appear to care that we were blood.
We went at each other full force, just as we had when we trained in the family’s hangar. He kept going for my ribs, so I returned with a hit to the nose, hoping to subdue him.
With all the shouting and music surrounding us, I didn’t hear the crack, but I felt it. Blood ran out of Hustler’s nose.
My brother went nuts, flailing his limbs, seething with hatred.
I wrapped my hand around his throat but didn’t apply much pressure. Hustler needed to calm the fuck down, or I would unleash holy hell on him.
“Come on, big bro. Is that all you got? A busted nose is child’s play.” He sneered, then the dickhead grabbed my wrist, trying to put me under him.
No dice. I squeezed his jugular to make him cough and gag.
“Karma says you can fuck off!”
“You cunt!” I showed no mercy with my hand around his throat. Rage flowed through my veins. I could kill him for publicly calling me out.
“Enough!” Our father shoved me off Hustler. “I want to see both of you in my office.” He pointed his finger at us while we were on our backs. A silent warning to get it together drifted between us before he left the bar.
While Buff and Spectre dealt with the crowd. Hustler and I remained on our backs, gulping in gallons of air.
“Baby, are you okay?” Justine dropped to her knees and gently touched my face. “Where do you hurt?”
“Fucker.” Hustler turned toward us, seething like he still wanted to pummel my face.
“Here.” Midnight handed him a bar towel, eyeing me. “Who was he talking about?”
“Yeah, Cobra. Who’s Karma?” Justine asked.
“The woman he claimed to love, then fucked over,” Hustler growled, getting to his feet. “She deserves better than a piece of shit like you anyway.”
Midnight shook her head, walking away.
“Shut your goddamn mouth,” I told my brother in a warning tone as I stood.
He flipped me off as he turned on his heel and left.
“What’s he talking about? You said you never loved anyone.” Justine blinked her eyes like she was shocked.
“My private life is none of your business.”
“But I love you.”
“Oh, Jesus. It’ll never happen with us, Justine. I told you that from the beginning.”
“I know, it’s fine. I won’t complain if you loved someone else. She’s gone.” She patted my chest. “We’re good.”
She just didn’t get it.