Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

N ikita's nerves grew worse and worse the closer they got to the Dive. It wasn't the most popular bar in town, but it was his brother's usual haunt because the drinks were cheaper.

"You sure he'll be here?" Ledger asked as he pulled into the parking lot after a mostly tense and quiet drive.

"He should be." This was where he'd told Nikita to meet him once he was done breaking into Friction. It'd just been another form of humiliation. Insisting he come in person to show him the photo when sending it through text would be easier.

Oran liked control because it made him feel special, but since he couldn't exercise his will over anyone else on this planet, he'd chosen Nikita as his fill-in. It'd taken Nikita a long time to realize that. To figure out it wasn't anything he'd done personally, that there was no way to make anything up to his half-brother and get him to like him eventually. It wasn't even really that he'd come along and burst the image of a perfect family Oran had been born into while Nikita had been away. That was just an excuse. Another weapon Oran chose to use against him.

There was no real reason for it. Oran just didn't like him. Plain and simple.

"Oh good, he's already here," Ledger's voice cut through Nikita's thoughts, but when he looked up, it was to find another man standing by the front door and not his brother.

Royal Madden Odell was a member of the Retinue and the righthand of the Imperial Prince. He was currently propped up against the siding of the brick building, flicking a lighter on and off as though bored. In the shadows, his burgundy hair couldn't be made out, but Nikita had seen him around and knew what that particular Devil looked like when he wasn't shrouded in darkness.

"Careful, Niki," Ledger drawled a moment later as he parked the car. "I might get jealous if you keep staring at him like that."

He blinked and tore his gaze off of Madden, even as the Royal started for them. "I wasn't. It's just…What's he doing here?"

"I called him."

"But why?"

"Why do you think?" Ledger gave him a look like he thought he was a complete moron.

Maybe he was. He'd spoken to Flix about putting off the debts, so why call Madden, the man in charge of keeping them, here? Was it a setup? Had this been an elaborate prank? That certainly would make more sense than Nikita suddenly catching the eye of a Devil positively.

What if Oran had successfully attracted one of them, and this was all a show put on by his half-brother? What if he'd sent Nikita there knowing full well that Ledger would catch him and?—

"Whoa." Ledger rested a hand on the top of Nikita's head. "What's wrong? You look like you're panicking all of a sudden. Is it Madden? Did he do something to you one of those times you went to the Docks?"

"No. No, but?—"

Madden rapped his knuckles against the driver's side window, interrupting.

After a moment where he just stared at him, Ledger sighed and let go, moving to pop open the door. A gust of air swept into the car, bringing with it the smell of rain with a hint of stale booze, and he stood there with it open, separating himself from Madden.

"I hope this is good," Madden said. "I'm in the process of courting someone and it isn't going well. I could use the distraction."

"Ever heard of Oran Orsen?" Ledger asked.

"Nah. Why? He important?"

"Not in the slightest." He bent down and glanced back into the car, catching Nikita's gaze. "You have a picture, Tiger?" When that had Nikita freezing, he clucked his tongue. "Not the one we took in Friction. I mean of your brother. Keep up. Do you really think I brought you all the way here to show some strangers a pic of the two of us?"

"You brought him to Friction?" Madden sounded intrigued.

"Something like that." Ledger motioned at Nikita. "Well? Come on. Hand it over."

Nikita unstrapped his multi-slate from his wrist, shaking his head. "I don't have any photos," he admitted. "But he's got an Inspire account." He pulled up the social media app and went straight to Oran's profile before holding out the device for Ledger to take.

Once he had, he straightened, sneering as he scrolled before turning the screen to Madden. "This is the guy. Will you be able to recognize him just off of this?"

"I never forget a face," Madden drawled. "Which reminds me, pretty sure I've seen the guy in your car before lurking around the Docks." He ducked around the door and leaned in so he could see Nikita better. "You into street racing?"

"No, he isn't," Ledger pushed him away. "Back off."

Madden chuckled and held up both hands in a sign of surrender. "Oh, it's like that, is it? Guess this little outing will be worth my time after all. Didn't know you were seeing someone, Ledge."

"We're not—" Nikita began to correct him, worried Ledger might get upset being romantically linked to him like that, but he wasn't given the chance to get more than two words out before Ledger slammed the door shut with enough force the car rattled.

He spoke to Madden a bit longer, but the words were muffled, and Nikita couldn't make them out. Not daring to exit without being told he could, he sat there and waited. Which wasn't really all that bad, since it gave him a private moment to collect himself. So far, this night hadn't gone at all how he'd predicted, and he couldn't even begin to guess what was going to happen next.

Was Ledger planning on confronting his brother? If he wasn't going to show him the photo he'd taken, but they'd come all the way here anyway, that was a possibility, wasn't it? Either that, or he was going to find Oran and get his side of the story, verify whether or not Nikita was a liar before proceeding with…whatever it was Ledger planned on doing.

Was he really going to sleep with him? It'd sounded like it, and he'd even gone so far as to tell Flix as much.

Did Nikita really want to sleep with him?

He shifted in the leather seat, mind going back to the way it'd felt to have that powerful body pressed against his back, those fingers delving inside of him, as he was—He sucked in a breath as he felt his dick twitch in his pants and adjusted his thighs.

Okay, so he did want to screw the Devil. Cool. It wasn't any crazier than anything else that night, so why not. The only real question was, would he actually get to?

The door opened a second time, and then Ledger was there again, peering inside at him. "You want to come, Niki, or are you going to stay here? Either option is fine by me. Answer truthfully."

"I…" He swallowed and glanced toward the building. The sound of beat music could be heard spilling from within, subtle but there, and the idea of entering all of that already gave him the beginnings of a migraine. What he should do was ask Ledger what the plan was. Find out if he was going in there to help Nikita or get dirt on him so he could be prepared, but… He ended up shaking his head instead. "I'll wait for you here."

Ledger made a sound of understanding, not upset by that answer. But when he went to step away, he seemed to reconsider and came back. "Stay inside the car. If you try and run, I'll make what Oran's done to you in the past look like a cake walk. Got it?"

"Yeah," he said. "I won't run. Promise." Where would he even run to?

"Just to confirm one last time, you said this shithead brother of yours has a thing for Saint, correct?"

Nikita frowned. "Yes…?"

"Why does he look like he has no clue what's going on?" Madden asked Ledger, but the door shut again before Nikita could overhear whatever the response was.

The two of them walked toward the bar, disappearing inside. Nikita had stayed because he couldn't see a reason for him to go with them, but now that he was sitting alone he was starting to second guess himself.

Was he really going to just sit here and trust that whatever Ledger had planned, it wouldn't result in Nikita being worse off than before?

He'd obviously tried to get away from his family, had gotten a few part time jobs over the years in an attempt to save up for school, since he'd always sort of known his parents weren't going to foot the bill for his education the way they'd always promised Oran they would. The jobs never lasted long though. Oran always found a way to get him fired.

Nikita didn't even have enough coin to move out, forced to continue living in that hellhole.

And that wasn't going to change just because he spread his legs for one of the Devils of Vitality.

He swore at himself, a flash of anger slinking past the desperation and hopelessness he typically felt. How foolish of him to forget that one very important detail. Even if Ledger got the debts transferred to their rightful owner as payment for getting to sleep with him, that didn't mean anything in the long term.

Oran would be pissed as soon as he discovered—if Ledger didn't outright tell him right from the get-go. It was hard to imagine things being worse than they already were, but Nikita had long since learned not to underestimate his brother.

Ledger was planning on fucking him, and that was it. As soon as they'd slept together, Nikita was going to have to return to his usual life, which meant returning to that house he shared with his tormentor. This wasn't good.

Nikita was out of the car and racing toward the building before he even processed what he planned on doing. All he knew was he'd been an idiot. He shouldn't have said anything to Ledger about Oran or his troubles, should have kept his mouth stubbornly shut and let the Devil kill him right then and there. That would be so much better than anything that could come after this night.

He shoved his way through the crowd as soon as he was inside, not caring if he was being rude. His gaze wildly swept over the room, searching for Ledger or his brother. It was only after he'd made it to the center of the dance floor that he realized something had everyone else's attention.

There was a commotion on the far side of the room, where a couple of faded red velvet couches were set against the wall. Madden was seated in the center of one of them, his legs kicked up on the beer-stained coffee table. He had an arm around two different guys, and Nikita recognized them as his brother's best friends, Brox and Pierce.

Madden was holding them back while they all watched the real action a few feet away.

Ledger had Oran on the ground, one hand fisted in his white button-up shirt. He was speaking to him, and Nikita found himself moving closer in an attempt to hear, eyes wide as he watched his brother shake in obvious fear of the Devil.

Just as he was about to reach them, someone stepped in Nikita's way. The man had pink hair and a wicked grin as he stared down at him, and was instantly recognizable. Saint, the Brumal member Oran had a crush on.

"The show is free, but participation is off the table," Saint said, winking at Nikita as if to lighten the blow and not scare him.

"Let him pass," Ledger's voice cut across to them before Nikita could think of what to say. Saint seemed surprised but shrugged and instantly stepped aside.

"This is your rodeo," Saint shrugged, moving away from Nikita. "We're just clowns in your shit show." He dropped down into one of the smaller chairs near the couch, propping his elbows on his knees so he could lean in and get a closer look at Oran. "Is he about to cry? Damn, man. What did he do to you? Or is it just another Tuesday? Guess he's as good as any to beat up for no real reason."

"Nope," Ledger corrected, "this is personal."

"I swear I've never done anything to you," Oran said. "Honestly! I've never—" He noticed Nikita was there finally and tossed out an arm, pointing at him vehemently. "It was him! He did it!"

Saint cocked his head. "What'd he do?"

"Be born into the wrong family," Ledger stated. He shoved Oran down and glared warningly when he tried to sit back up, not speaking again until he was lying flat on his back with Ledger hovering over him.

For a split second, a rush of jealousy hit Nikita as he recalled he'd been in a similar position with the Devil only an hour so ago, but that feeling dissipated quickly when Ledger lifted a foot and placed it on Oran's neck.

He used the tip of his shoe to force Oran's head back, pressing against his chin, all while his heel dug in. When Oran's hands went to his ankle and tried to pry him off, he laughed, the sound twisted and cruel.

"Hey, Saint," Ledger motioned between Nikita and Oran, "which of them do you think is the best looking?"

Saint gave it some thought, then shrugged and waved toward Nikita. "That one, obviously. He's got pretty hair. This one," he eyed Oran blankly, "is boring."

Oran had their father's natural dark brown hair.

Nikita had always thought it was a nicer color than his own, so hearing otherwise was weirdly uplifting.

"Why? Who are they?" Saint asked.

"They're brothers," Ledger said, and Saint made a sound as if suddenly all of the pieces made sense.

"I get it now. Brothers have always been your soft spot. What'd this one do?" He pointed to Oran. "Don't tell me he's the one who fucked up Sherbert's face like that?"

Nikita blinked. "Me?"

"Don't give him a nickname," Ledger snapped. "Mind your own boyfriend."

"I was," Saint said. "What do you think I was doing before you called me here?"

"You two are…" Oran either couldn't finish his sentence because it was too impossible for him to fathom, or because he literally couldn't with Ledger's foot still pressing against his windpipe. Either way, his gaze swept over to Nikita and held, hardening some before Ledger noticed and shook him with applied pressure.

"Dating," Ledger said. "He and I are dating, which means he's mine. I'm sure you've heard rumors about what happens to people who fuck with my things." He didn't give Oran the chance to reply. "Break his fingers."

It was unclear to Nikita who he was talking to, but Saint stood with a flourish and clicked his tongue.

"Not your bitch," he told Ledger, "But all right."

They were serious…

"Wait!" Nikita was at Ledger's side in a heartbeat, latching onto his arm, tugging him away until he was no longer standing over his brother.

As soon as he was free, Oran scuttled away, moving until his back hit the coffee table and it jostled.

Madden pulled a blaster out of his pocket and leaned forward, pressing the barrel of the gun to the back of Oran's skull. "I don't recall anyone telling you it was okay for you to move. Just for that, I'll be adding an extra five thousand coin to your debt."

"But—"

"Keep talking," he said, "I'll add another thousand for every word."

"Believe it or not," Ledger told Nikita, "Madden runs a fair illegal business."

"I hate liars," Madden replied matter-of-factly. "If you don't have the funds to bet, don't fucking do it. It's not that hard of a concept."

"It's especially disgusting when you drag your family into it," Ledger added. "Those debts are yours, so you'll be dealing with them from now on. As for the rest, if I find out you've so much as breathed in the same room as Niki, I'll find you and take more than two fingers. He hasn't told me everything, yet, but I'm sure there's a hell of a lot more you owe than that. This is me going easy on you for his sake. Don't misunderstand."

Nikita was positive if the threat of being shot in the head wasn't there, Oran would be staring at him with a look of pure hatred right about now. As it were, he couldn't seem to tear his gaze off of Ledger, pleading silently with his eyes not to be hurt.

He'd feel bad, but Nikita couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever gotten that same look in his eye before. How many times had he begged Oran to stop kicking him? Or hitting him? Maybe this wasn't the type of revenge he'd imagined himself getting, but why should he feel bad for the person who'd beaten him so far down, Nikita had been willing to die just to escape?

Ledger's hand found his then, lacing their fingers together in a way that somehow managed to shock Nikita despite everything else still going on.

"Do you want to stay and watch, or would you rather leave now?" Ledger asked him softly.

Even if he didn't feel bad for him, Nikita still couldn't muster up the courage to ask what was about to happen. Instead, he retreated a step toward the exit, his hand still clutched tightly in the other man's hold.

The corner of Ledger's mouth tipped up, a flash of something satisfied appearing in his gaze before he repeated over his shoulder to Saint, "Break his fingers."

Nikita turned and followed the Devil out of the bar, the screams of his brother echoing behind him until they made it outside, and the sounds faded away.