Bloodline [h.s.]

seven.

Bridget and I finished our coffee in kitchen. As I washed our mugs, she went ahead up to her room to change and told me to meet her there in five minutes. The sound of many footsteps invaded the room. Relief washed over me knowing Bridget was upstairs, so she didn't have to face Jack again.

Every time I had a thought  like that, Kai's voice filled my head. When target your enemies, no sympathy, no guilt, no emotion.  However, Bridget was not my target. I wanted Bridget hurt as little as possible. I didn't like her. I didn't care about her. But any energy spent on suffering was to be put into her father. My goal was to honor my family and exonerate my father. Letting Bridget hurt more than necessary wasn't the goal.

"Hey Jacob, I thought you left." Peter said.

I looked up from the sink, still deciding the right way to explain my presence. Everyone else was in the living room.

"I was going to, but then, Bridget and I were talking. We lost track of time. She just went upstairs." I explained, feeling the awkward tension in the room increase.

"You're staying the night?" Peter asked quietly so his friends would not here.

"I am." I said with eyes fixed directly on Jack.

"Look, I know she's adult and you're an adult, but–"

"It's not that kind of 'staying the night.' Bridget didn't want to be here alone all weekend. She's had a rough few days. I just wanted to be there for her."

He searched my face for a moment, internally debating if I was telling the truth.

"Okay." He settled.

As I walked through the living room to meet Bridget upstairs, I was approached by Jack, who grabbed my shoulder.

"Can I help you?" I restrained the anger coursing through me.

"If you're attempting to pipe Bridget Gallagher, save your energy. She is a stone cold bitch." He smirked.

Every atom in my being wanted to lift him by the throat and inform him of every bone I would break should he touch her again.

"You do not want to do this with me, mate. Go back to your friends." I said through my clenched teeth.

My legs carried me passed him. The least I could do for Bridget was to ignore my instincts and diffuse the situation.

"Do you have a problem with me? Because if you do, feel free to leave. I'll head up to Bridget's room and do the job for you." He snapped and walked in front of me.

The temptation to fracture his mandible became painfully strong. Instead, I walked passed him again, ignoring his vile words. To my satisfaction, silence pissed him off more than my words could. He yanked me back and punched me as hard as he could, leaving me bent over clutching my chest. In any other circumstance, I would have him on the floor in seconds, but doing that now would unnecessarily hurt Bridget and not benefit the mission.

"What the fuck?" I growled.

When I regained an upright position, he threw another fists at my nose this time. Bridget must have wondered what was taking me so long because I heard her coming down. I fell back onto stairs landing on the ribs he had just hit. One of the other guys heard Jack's drunken commotion and rushed over.