The Bastard's Smile

Cass was yanked back, hands gripping his arms like steel vices. Two of them pinned him down, shoving him against the damp, filth-covered cobblestones.

"Got him?" One of them grunted.

"Yeah, hold the bastard down."

The next hit came hard.

A boot to the ribs.

Cass choked, body jerking from the impact.

Another kick, this time to the face. His head snapped sideways, cheek scraping against the stone.

Then came the fists.

Pounding. Smashing. Unrelenting.

Cass twisted, tried to break free, but they were stronger—he was slowing down.

A punch to the gut.

A fist to the temple.

The alley blurred. His smirk faded. His body went slack.

Lior felt his stomach turn.

His brother wasn't moving.

Lior ran.

Or at least, he tried.

His legs were smaller, thinner—they barely made a sound against the wet cobblestone as he twisted through the alley, slipping past rusted barrels and cracked stone walls. His heartbeat roared in his ears.

Cass was getting beaten to hell behind him, but if he could get help—if he could just—

His body jerked back.

Fingers clamped around his collar like an iron shackle, yanking him off his feet.

Lior choked, his feet scrambling in the air before he was slammed against the nearest wall. His back smacked into the cold brick, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

He gasped.

Then he saw him.

Levy.

The bastard had been waiting.

Waiting right at the alley's turn like a wolf waiting at the mouth of a rabbit hole.

And now, his grin was all teeth.

"Caught ya." Levy's breath reeked of sour bread and malice.

Lior struggled. "L—let me go!"

Levy didn't. His grip only tightened, pushing Lior harder against the stone.

"Gotta say," Levy muttered, glancing over his shoulder towards the beatdown happening just beyond the bend. "I half-figured your brother'd make a run for it. Thought I'd have to chase his ass down instead of yours."

Lior bared his teeth. "You don't know Cass."

Levy's grin twitched.

Oh, he knew.

He knew damn well.

That's why he had waited here instead.

Because Cass never ran.

Cass was the kind of bastard who gritted his teeth through pain, laughed in the face of broken ribs, and never—ever—backed down.

And that scared Levy shitless.

That was why he had picked Lior instead.

He had waited in the dark like a rat waiting for a wounded beast to fall. He had stood in the corner just in case.

Because Cass Morel?

Cass Morel was a fucking lunatic.

And Levy didn't want to fight him alone.

Lior tried to bolt away. He had always been fast. 

His legs burned as he pushed to run, feet slipping on the uneven cobblestones. He tried to shout, tried to scream for help—but no one in Blackmire listened.

He felt like a real rat caught by its nemesis. Much bigger than him. Levy.

Lior barely had time to gasp before Levy's fingers curled around his collar.

"Where you runnin' off to, rat?" Levy sneered.

Lior struggled, kicked. "Let—let me go!"

Levy didn't let go.

Instead, he dragged Lior back.

Dragged him straight to where Cass lay, blood pooling beneath his nose.

Lior's stomach lurched.

"Cass," he choked out.

Cass didn't answer.

Levy grinned—and then, with one rough shove, he forced Cass's head down.

Straight into the sewer water.

Cass gasped, coughed—choking on the filth, jerking back to life.

Lior's entire body went cold.

Cass was breathing heavy, blinking blearily—and then he started laughing.

Bloodied. Bruised. Half-conscious.

And still, Cass laughed.

Because now, staring down at him with his hands still gripping Cass's skull, was Levy.

The same boy Cass had beaten black and blue for harassing a defenseless girl.

Cass grinned up at him, blood staining his teeth.

"Oh," Cass rasped, voice hoarse, shaking. "It's you."

And Levy's grin turned to something colder.

His mouth twitched, teeth bared like a rabid dog, fingers still tangled in Cass's hair.

"Yeah, it's me," Levy said, voice full of something that curdled in Lior's stomach. He yanked Cass's head back, his nails digging into the blood-matted strands. "You thought you were real fuckin' funny, didn't you?"

Cass, still coughing, spat. It landed right on Levy's boot.

"Still do," Cass rasped, grinning wide despite the blood staining his teeth. "You looked real pretty with a swollen eye. Bet that girl you messed with had a good laugh, too."

Levy's jaw clenched, and Lior saw it—the flicker of rage.

He didn't wait. He reared back and slammed Cass's face into the stone.

A sickening crack echoed in the alley.

Lior flinched.

Cass groaned, arms limp at his sides. His breathing was shallow, but steady.

He was still awake.

Levy let out a slow, controlled breath. "You humiliated me," he muttered, voice low, shaking with something barely restrained. "Made me look like a goddamn weakling in front of everyone."

Cass gave a breathy laugh, barely more than a whisper. "You are a weakling."

Another slam.

This time, Cass didn't move.

Lior's heart was pounding.

He felt useless—pathetic.

He needed to do something.

"Levy, stop!" Lior blurted, voice too high, too desperate. Too childish.

Levy finally looked at him.

Really looked at him.

And something about that gaze made Lior step back.

Levy studied him, head tilting.

Cass still wasn't moving.

Then, suddenly—Levy let go.

Cass's head dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

Levy stood up straight, wiping his hands against his shirt as if disgusted that he had to touch Cass in the first place. Then he turned, slow, deliberate, and walked toward Lior.

Lior's breath stuttered.

He tried to run, but Levy grabbed him by the collar before he could take more than a step.

"You his little brother?" Levy mused, fingers tightening.

Lior swallowed hard.

Levy clicked his tongue. "You know, I should teach you a lesson too. Make sure you don't grow up to be a smug little bastard like him."

Lior struggled, tried to pry Levy's hands away. "Let me go!"

Levy only laughed.

Then a low, rasping chuckle sounded behind him.

Levy froze.

Cass was laughing.

Lior twisted in Levy's grasp just enough to see.

Cass, still bleeding, still half-conscious, was grinning.

And Levy looked pissed.

"You think this is funny?" Levy growled.

Cass tilted his head back against the stone.

"Yeah," he croaked. "I do."

Levy's grip on Lior tightened.

Cass licked blood from his lips, still smiling.

"Because you've got no fucking idea what you've just done."

Levy's fingers twitched around Lior's collar, the pressure tightening for a brief second before he forced himself to relax.

Lior felt his own pulse hammering in his throat. His chest rose and fell too fast, too uneven. He wanted to run—his legs screamed for it—but he knew Levy would drag him back before he even turned.

Cass, however, looked like he had all the time in the world.

The bastard was smirking.

Even now. Even after being beaten half to death.

Levy sneered, twisting around to face him. "Oh yeah? What exactly did I do, Cass?"

Cass let out a low, hoarse chuckle. He tilted his head back against the stone, blood dripping from his temple, pooling beneath him. But his eyes—his eyes still held that same sharp, infuriating glint.

"You put your hands on my brother," he rasped.

Levy scoffed. "Yeah? And what, you're gonna kill me?"

Cass's grin widened, all teeth.

"Nah," he said, voice still slurred but steady, measured. "See, if you'd just beaten the shit out of me and left, it would've been done. No one would care. Hell, I wouldn't care. I've had worse."

Levy snorted. "You sound proud of that, you freak."

Cass ignored him.

"But you didn't just stop at me, did you?" His grin sharpened. "You had to put your filthy hands on my brother. And now, you're fucked."

Levy's face twitched. "You're full of shit."

Cass exhaled a slow, shaky breath. "Go ahead," he muttered, still smiling. "Look up."

Levy hesitated.

But he did.

And froze.

Lior followed his gaze—and his stomach dropped.

There, at the mouth of the alley, stood two figures.

Older boys.

Not much older than Cass, maybe sixteen or seventeen. But they were tall. Built.

And they were watching.

One of them was leaning against the wall, flipping a knife between his fingers.

The other cracked his knuckles, eyes cold, bored.

Lior didn't recognize them. But Cass did.

Cass was still smirking.

"Levy, Levy, Levy," Cass sighed, tilting his head. "You dumb little shit." He licked blood from his lips. "You think I fight alone?"

Levy's face paled.

The boy with the knife laughed.

"That's twice you've crossed a line, Levy," Cass murmured. "First time? I let it slide. Gave you a warning." He grinned, slow and lazy. "Guess you ain't too bright, huh?"

Levy's grip on Lior slackened.

Lior wrenched himself free, stumbling back, gasping.

Levy took a step away. "This… this ain't over," he spat. But his voice wavered.

Cass hummed, still slumped against the ground, but his expression was mocking.

"Oh, I know," he rasped. "And I'm looking forward to it."

Levy didn't respond. He just turned—and ran.

His boys hesitated, looking at each other, then at the figures at the alley's mouth. They didn't wait long before bolting.

Lior could barely breathe.

For a moment, the alley was silent.

Then, finally—Cass groaned.

"Shit," he muttered. "That hurt."

The boy with the knife sighed and tucked the blade away.

"You're a real dumbass, Morel," he said, stepping forward. "But that was entertaining."

Cass grinned up at him.

"Wasn't it, though?"