Ruthless knight

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll tell Oakley to come over for a family meeting. With all three of us there, she’ll know we mean business and back off.” 

I start to walk away for a third time, but he stops me again. “Yeah…about that.” I’m not sure what to make of the grim expression on his face. “I don’t want Oakley there.” 

That’s…peculiar. Oak’s our brother from another mother. “He always comes to our family meetings.”

“Not anymore.” 

Irritation crawls along my neck. “Why the fuck not?” 

 “Because he came over high as a kite last night.” His nostrils flare. “And right when I was getting ready to press him on it, Loki called and he walked outside.” 

Loki’s a drug dealer from the other side of town. The guy is bad news and Oak’s admitted to buying ecstasy, coke, and heroin off him a few times in the past. 

However, Loki also sells weed—and according to Oak—marijuana helps manage his epilepsy. 

I open my mouth to defend my friend, but then Jace grinds out, “A few minutes later I found him seizing on the patio.” 

“Shit.” 

Given Oakley’s condition, seizures happen…but not that often. 

Not unless he’s under extreme stress or taking drugs he shouldn’t. 

But as much as the thought of him using again irks me, Jace shouldn’t cut him off because of a slip-up. Dude’s life hasn’t exactly been a picnic lately. 

“He’s been arguing with his dad a lot,” I inform him. “Wayne wants him to come back home, but he refuses.” 

Jace remains stone-faced. “I know.”

“Yeah, and you also know how much Crystal getting pregnant really fucked him up. Cut him some goddamn slack.” 

His eyes darken in challenge. “I’m out of slack. When the sperm-donor gets back, I’m telling him to kick Oak out of the guesthouse. He’s fucking with Loki again, and I don’t want you or Bianca around it. Kicking him out is the only way I can protect you.” 

It’s not often we fight, but fuck him and the judgmental horse he rode in on. “Oakley’s not Walter White, Jace. He’s your best friend and he’s going through some shit. If you make Dad kick him out, you’re all but signing his death warrant because he’s only go

With Oakley dead in a ditch or scrubbing for change on a street corner for his next hit. 

 “He’s hurting Dylan.” Anger flashes in his gaze. “I can handle Oakley’s fuck-ups, but Dylan can’t. Last night after he left, she cried herself to sleep because he got high, and that is not fucking okay.”

I snort. “Sounds like your little goodie-two-shoes needs to get a grip.” 

I’m glad Jace is happy, but his girlfriend’s been at the top of my shit list these days. 

After shit went down with Sawyer a few months ago, Jace read me the riot act and told me to stay away from her because Dylan would kick my ass if I hurt her precious bestie again. 

When I told him I’d like to see her try, he said she wouldn’t get the chance, because he’d rip off my throwing arm and shove it up my ass. 

It wasn’t the first time he took someone else’s side over mine. 

He shoves me. “Don’t be a dick, asshole. She’s worried about him.” His shoulders slump on an exhale. “We both are.” The edges of his lips whiten with a deep scowl. “But I’m not go

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

 “Dylan’s worried about Oakley because she loves him.” He starts walking away. “Which is something you’ll never understand the concept of because you’re way too goddamn selfish.” 

He’s not wrong. 

Bianca’s already diagnosed me as a sociopath due to my narcissism and lack of empathy. 

I told her it was because I had yet to meet anyone worth giving a single fuck about. 

She muttered God must have gotten his wires crossed and gave Liam all the compassion…and me all the evil. 

So I asked her where Liam’s compassion was when he secured a rope around his neck and left his family to find his corpse hanging in a closet during breakfast. 

Then I smiled when she ran off crying. 

“Good chat,” I bite out as he wanders down the hall. “I’ll make sure to tell Oakley to come over for breakfast around nine. Maybe you can make everyone pancakes…just like old times.” 

His response is a somber shake of his head and a middle finger. 

Jace will never admit it, but I know exactly what he’s thinking. 

The wrong twin died that day.