Page 115 of Unwritten Rules

?Chapter 29

Brent

“Jesus! I’m done. I’mdone!” Alexander yelled from underneath me, pathetically throwing punches that wouldn’t land. I rolled off him and stood, dusting the dirt and leaves off me.

I pointed a finger down at him. “Don’t fucking touch her, man.”

He stood up, shaking off dirt and leaves from his nice white shirt. “I thoughtSloanewas yours, dude! Don’t attack me for wanting a nice piece of ass.”

I gave him another shove. “Don’t fucking spook her. I have her meeting with my fucking grandfather this week, and I can’t have her backing out of areallyimportant fucking deal because you fuckingrapedher. Don’t fucking touch her. I will kill you; consequences be damned.”

He ruffled his hair, shaping it back into place. “Someone is gettingpossessivelately. What’s Sloane going to think? She’s not one to take lightly to that type of competition. Not to mention what she’d do to that little girl? I think I can safely put stakes on Fallon—that girl is such a fucking tease.”

I balled up my fists. I swore he was asking for another hit to the face. “No word of this to anyone, you understand me? Iwillkill you myself.”

He laughed as I turned heel and made my way out of the maze. Fucking arrogant prick.

Riding fast enough to outrun my thoughts on the highway, I headed towards the Dictator’s compound. Getting ahead of Alexander was my top priority.

Of course, he’d lay a claim to her as soon as her status came out. He was obsessed with beating me, being top dog, and being a fucking dick in general. When he was told no, he became a brute with daddy backing him up to get whatever it was that he wanted.

It was always that way.

We had our fair share of competitions, but I wouldn’t let him take what was mine. He hated losing to me; I was simply faster, better than he’d ever been, and he hated it. He hated me. Ever since I separated myself from his side, it was every man for himself.

And I sure as hell wouldn’t let him get to Fallon first. He would ruin her.

Slamming open the front doors, I trudged through the foyer on a mission. My rage was hot in my blood, reaching its boiling point.

“Brent, welcome sir I-“

“Grandfather, now,” I growled to the butler.

“Of course, mister Vaughn. Right this way,” his tone softened, not willing to dare my anger. He’d seen plenty of my outbursts that sent men to the hospital and today was no different.

If he touched her, I would sever his hands and make him eat them.

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