Five Brutal Kings 9

Harrison arrived hours late.

The others had been waiting in the open field, the wind sweeping through, rustling their shirts and tossing dust into their eyes. They had agreed to meet here—Clinton's potential penthouse site—but he was now reconsidering. A better offer had landed in his lap: acres of prime land partially bordered by the sea. Before making a final decision, he wanted to inspect both.

David was the first to spot Harrison approaching. "Look who finally decided to show up," he said, nudging Daniel, who turned with a smirk.

Harrison jogged the last few steps, breathless but grinning. "Overslept," he admitted, throwing up his hands in mock surrender.

Daniel squinted against the sunlight, the wind tousling his hair. "We almost thought you weren't coming."

"I thought so too when I saw the time," Harrison said, running a hand through his scarlet hair. "Launched out of bed, bolted to the bathroom… but it was already too late." He exhaled and shrugged. "Also, my phone's dead. Well, broken."

David raised an eyebrow. "Broken?"

Harrison waved a hand vaguely. "May have thrown it at the wall. It refused to wake me up."

Daniel let out a low chuckle. "Let me guess—it 'misbehaved.'"

"Exactly."

David shook his head. "You do know it's a phone, not an alarm clock?"

Harrison smirked. "Not anymore."

His gaze flicked toward the helicopter waiting nearby. The sleek black aircraft gleamed under the midday sun, its rotors still. Two pilots stood near it, going over final checks. It was a reminder of why he had rushed here in the first place—this wasn't just another casual meetup. This was a pivotal moment for Clinton.

One of the pilots approached, posture straight, voice steady. "It's time to head out."

Clinton turned to the group. "Ready?"

"Let's do this," Samuel said, throwing an arm over his shoulder.

The cool air nipped at their faces as they followed the pilot toward the helicopter. The familiar roar of the blades picked up, vibrating through their chests. Excitement hummed beneath the surface. They were about to take to the skies.

From above, the city shrank beneath them, sprawling fields rolling into sight. The lush green stretched endlessly, neatly trimmed and meticulously planned. As the helicopter glided over the ocean, the water shimmered beneath the sun, its waves gentle, rhythmic—a perfect contrast to the chaotic city life.

Clinton's jaw clenched. This was it. The location. The one.

Daniel leaned forward, peering down. "Damn," he muttered, awestruck. "Especially the ocean. It's—breathtaking."

He knew Clinton was obsessed with waterfront properties, and for a moment, he imagined owning one himself—a sleek vacation home perched by the waves. Then, just as quickly, reality set in. His parents would never approve. They'd remind him, yet again, that they had more than enough estates. Worse, they were still pissed about Sandra.

Her parents had called his, pleading with him to apologize. She had withdrawn, barely eating, sinking into a sadness that worried everyone. His mother had begged him—just say something, anything—to ease the damage.

But Daniel wasn't interested. The more they pushed, the more he resisted. Apologizing wasn't in his nature. What mattered was waiting. Biding his time. Once he inherited everything, he could buy whatever he wanted, live however he pleased.

"This place is perfect," Harrison said, snapping Daniel back to the present. He glanced at Clinton, who was typing something on his phone, face unreadable. "Your penthouse is going to look insane here."

Clinton nodded, lips curving slightly. "I know." He hit send. "Just emailed the accountant about it."

Samuel shot him a skeptical look. "Does your mom know?"

Clinton exhaled sharply. "Not yet. And she won't. She'd shut it down before I could sign the papers." His voice hardened. "She always does."

Bitterness curled around his words. He could already picture the lecture, the interference. But not this time. This was his choice, his investment. And he wasn't letting anyone take it from him.

The helicopter touched down smoothly, and the pilot stepped forward. "Pleasure flying with you, gentlemen."

Clinton pulled out his phone. "I'll call you if I need another trip."

The pilot nodded. A client like Clinton wasn't one to lose.

David clapped his hands together. "Alright. Pub downtown? Drinks on me."

Daniel shook his head, smirking. "That place would be too loud for Clinton. He'd bolt before we even ordered."

Clinton barely looked up from his phone. "I'll try to stick around," he muttered, but they weren't convinced.

Harrison cleared his throat and picked up his pace, suddenly walking ahead of them. Then, just as abruptly, he stopped and turned, hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm planning a party," he announced.

Daniel tilted his head. "Birthday party?"

Harrison nodded.

"Glad you remembered this time," Clinton teased. Last year, he had forgotten entirely. His friends, however, hadn't. They had planned a surprise party at a five-star hotel, and even his parents had kept quiet about it.

"You should stay longer than fifteen minutes this time," Harrison shot at Clinton.

Clinton smirked. "I promise, okay?"

Harrison grinned. "Just make sure you dress your best."

"We always dress our best!" the boys chorused.

Daniel rolled his eyes, sauntering toward his car. "First one to the bar gets to order whatever they want—from the rest of you."

Then, before anyone could react, he jumped into his car, revved the engine, and sped off.

The remaining boys exchanged glances.

David sighed. "We don't want to attract the cops."

But their shared grins said otherwise.

Engines roared to life. The challenge was on.

*********

Vivian nearly squealed when Clinton stepped into the bar.

His easy, playful smile sent warmth rushing to her cheeks. He glanced back through the glass doors before strolling toward a table by the window, completely unaware of the effect he had on her.

Heart pounding, she turned back to the table where she had just served drinks. The girls seated there had noticed him, too. Their eyes followed his every move, their whispers sharp with interest. Vivian exhaled through her nose, barely restraining her annoyance. With a quick, careless motion, she dropped the tray onto their table, hoping to distract them.

The girl with yellow-toned skin and bright pink nails shot her a glare. "Watch it, will you? Don't be so clumsy," she snapped. "You almost spilled the bottle on me."

Vivian forced a tight smile. "Hope you enjoy your drinks, ladies." Then, without another glance, she spun on her heel and strode toward Clinton's table.

She was just about to speak when the door swung open again. A burst of laughter filled the bar as Clinton's friends walked in, their presence magnetic.

"I can't believe this," Daniel groaned as he dropped into the seat beside Clinton. "How were you so quick? I was the first to leave! I'm so disappointed in myself."

"You should be," Clinton teased, adjusting his posture. "I took the shortcut."

Harrison slapped his hands on his lap. "Damn. Should've thought of that."

David sighed. "Traffic was brutal on my end. I kept honking, but the cars wouldn't move." He shook his head, remembering the road safety officer who had approached his car, unimpressed with his impatience. The last thing he had wanted was to get hauled to the station.

Samuel, the last to arrive, stayed quiet, rubbing the back of his neck as he listened to their chatter.

Vivian, standing by, felt her knees weaken as the scent of their cologne mixed in the air. Their laughter, their confidence—it was intoxicating. Her breath hitched when David's gaze flicked to her. His stare lingered just long enough to send heat curling low in her stomach.

"What do you want, then?" David asked, turning to Clinton, waiting as he watched him tap his chin in thought.

Clinton exhaled. "What do I want…" He stretched the words out slowly, as if savoring the power of the moment.

They all watched him. His sleek hair, his measured gaze—it was impossible not to.

"I want you to fund my Orlando trip for the next holiday," Clinton finally said, locking eyes with David. "Tickets, expenses—everything. I'm tired of this city."

David barely hesitated. "Done."

Samuel smacked his lips. "Go on."

Clinton didn't miss a beat. "I want a sports car. Green. From NLK." He mimed the motion of gripping a steering wheel. "Vroom."

Samuel chuckled. "Fine. Consider it done."

"And from you…" Clinton pointed at Harrison. "I want your cologne."

Harrison arched a brow. "You know it's custom-made, right?"

"I know. That's why I want it."

Harrison sighed, running a hand through his scarlet hair. "It's going to take time, but I'll do it."

Daniel leaned forward, rubbing his palms together. "Alright, what about me?"

Clinton smirked. "You have to do all my assignments for two weeks. And they better score high, or I'm extending it."

Daniel's jaw dropped. "Come on. You know I hate schoolwork."

"That's why it's yours."

Daniel groaned, already regretting the challenge.

Vivian had no idea if she should stay or slip away unnoticed. But standing there, ignored, made her feel ridiculous. Summoning her nerve, she finally spoke.

"What should I serve you, sir?"

The boys paused, turning their attention to her. The sudden weight of their gazes made her stomach tighten.

David was the first to answer. "What do you guys want? Bills on me."

Vivian nodded, jotting down their orders before retreating to the counter. As soon as she was out of sight, she clutched her chest and exhaled shakily. Lord, their gaze could kill a bird.

After steadying herself, she went to the cooler, grabbing their drinks.

As she walked back, she caught sight of the girl with yellow hair sipping from a tumbler, her eyes locked on her. Vivian ignored her and carefully set the tray down. The stainless steel clinked softly as she served the champagne bottle and glasses.

Daniel's phone rang. He barely glanced at it before tossing it onto the table.

"Who was that? Sandra?" Harrison teased.

Vivian's ears perked at the mention of a girl's name. Her hands stilled as she reached for the last glass, curiosity and jealousy tangling inside her.

"No," Daniel said, sucking in his lips. "Miranda."

David's head snapped up. His expression darkened. "Hell no, you didn't."

Daniel grinned. "It was easy."

Understanding flashed across the group. Only David remained still, his disbelief evident.

Then—crash.

The tray hit the floor.

Vivian had dropped it.

Every head turned toward her, eyes widening as she paled. Without a word, she spun on her heel and rushed away, her hand covering her burning face.