punishment || [ solo ]
Neal was sleeping when the sharp knock at the door woke him.
He’d had a fitful time trying to achieve rest, plagued by the events of his day with Allison, so he was especially irritated at being awoken. Groaning when he looked over at his clock and noticed it was 3 AM, barely over an hour after he’d drifted off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his gun off the nightstand on his way to the door. Opening it, he was greeted by a familiar face. “Jones,” he said, dropping the pistol back to his side. “What’s going on?” His brother in arms wouldn’t be on his doorstep so late if there wasn’t something amiss. If the hour wasn’t clue enough, the look on Jones’ face told him that he wasn’t just ‘in the neighborhood’.
“The boss called a meeting,” Jones informed him. The question of the hour of night still hung in the air, but Neal nodded. He turned back inside, pulling on some clothes and stuffing his pistol in his waistband before he followed Jones out the door.”
Silence filled the car as the pair drove to the destination. Neal noticed right away that they were taking a different route than to the Argent estate, where any actual meeting would be held. However, he already knew what this was about, and he kept his mouth shut. Part of him wondered why he shouldn’t just pull his pistol out now, place the barrel between his lips, and save Chris the trouble. Still, he remained a benign passenger as he stared straight ahead in silence. His eyes never broke contact with the road ahead until they reached their destination. He recognized the derelict warehouse as the location of one of his initiation tests.
As he stepped out of the car, another of his brothers grabbed his arm. As Neal turned his blue eyes to him, Jones came around and took his pistol, sticking it in his own waistband. “Don’t scuff that,” Neal warned him. “It was a gift.” Jones merely looked at him, the pity evident. The look itself added a fuel to the constant embers of anger that resided in him, and he shook off both pairs of hands that grasped his shoulders. Declaring a cold, “I can escort myself,” he did just that. His heartbeat drummed in his ears as he reached down to lift the door of the warehouse from the bottom. He knew from the amount of vehicles scattered around the lot that most of the family was here to watch his inevitable death, and he knew from one vehicle in particular that Chris was there to be the executioner himself. Such an act should have been beneath their boss, so Neal supposed he should feel honored. Instead, he merely felt sick to his stomach that a brat like Allison was going to be the reason he drew his last breath.
When the light from the warehouse illuminated him, Neal noticed that every eye in the room shifted toward him. All his brothers and sisters were gathered around in a semi-circle, and positioned at the place of honor was Chris.
Neal did not hesitate as he took the step forward. Every test he had endured before being admitted to the family had prepared him for his inevitable death, but he never thought the cause would be so dishonorable. As he approached Chris, he knelt down on one knee, bowing his head to the man who had given him everything and would soon strip it all away. He sat there, head bowed as he waited for his punishment to begin.
“Neal,” Chris began in a steady voice, but as second-in-command, Neal could still sense the jagged edges in his tone. “Do you know why we brought you here tonight?”
“Yes, sir,” was his simple response, his eyes still glued to the floor as he continued to kneel. The scuff of steady footsteps approached him before stopping in front so he was no longer staring at dirty cement, but rather looking at his own reflection in the brilliant shine of Chris Argent’s Oxfords. He fully expected it when he felt fingers clutching into his dark locks of hair and knee come up to make a firm connection with his nose. Neal reeled back, falling on his backside. Without bringing a hand up to examine the nose he already knew was broken, he scrambled back to his kneeling position, both hands on the pavement as crimson droplets fell to stain the cement.
Neither of them exchanged a word until Chris commanded him to “get up” in a sandpaper tone. Neal did as he was told, his cornflower blue eyes finally making contact with the pale blues of his boss. “Allison came to me after you dropped her off. It was much earlier than I expected her home. Care to explain why?”
Neal looked at the man in power that stood in front of him, choosing his words carefully. “Certain events made it evident that we shouldn’t continue the day as it was. I thought it would be better to try again tomorrow.”
“And why didn’t you report these events to me?”
“Because-”
The sentence was cut short as Chris’ fist connected with Neal’s stomach. As Neal doubled over, gasping for air, Chris threaded his fingers through his hair to yank his gaze back up to him. “There is no answer you can give to explain your actions.”
Still filling his lungs with the breath that had been knocked from them, Neal could only nod in response. It seemed sufficient, seeing as Chris then let go of his locks of hair and walked away. It would have been naive for him to believe that his punishment was over, so when he straightened up again and saw one of his sisters hand Chris a pair of silver knuckles, he did not even flinch. Rather, he placed his hands behind his back and clasped them in a relaxed manner, expressionless as he waited. The boss approached him with intent, sliding the metal knuckles over his fingers and making a tight fist. Neal did not brace for the impact across his jaw, but it also did not send him sprawling. At this point, Chris was still holding back, he thought to himself.
As Chris readjusted the knuckles on his fist, he asked, “I gave you explicit orders before you left with her. Why couldn’t you follow them?” He flexed his knuckles before looking back up at the bloody subordinate that stood before him.
Neal spit the blood that lingered in his mouth before answering. “I can’t speak to that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I promised her that I wouldn’t say. Obviously, she didn’t afford me the same courtesy.” Neal knew he was overstepping at that point, and the knowledge was confirmed as Chris sent another right hook directly into his jaw. This one sent Neal staggering a little before he regained his balance. He could feel the warm blood trickling down his cheek from the gash.
Chris no longer seemed collected between the punches, his anger beginning to flare behind his eyes. His jaw was set, and a vein was throbbing in his neck. “Why did you display your brand?” was the next question from Chris’ mouth.
Licking his lips, Neal replied, “It was unintentional. It was warm, so I took my jacket off, rolled up my sleeves. At one point, I reached over and the mark was exposed to a single civilian and Miss Argent. I was not showing it off.” Glancing around the room, he noticed that some of his siblings were beginning to pass glances to one another. It was both uncommon and unwise to be talking so candidly to the boss, and he was well-aware that if it wasn’t already Chris’ intention to kill him, he was quickly making a case to. Still, his brain was still slightly reeling from the punches, and he was having trouble continuing to bite his tongue.
The boss was still eyeing him, unsatisfied, so Neal continued against his best judgement. “You assigned her to me because you know what I’m capable of. You know I can protect her, and I’d challenge you to let any one here attempt to succeed where I failed. You asked me to protect her, but she is your daughter. Young and rebellious, but still yours. Do you think that even a team could stop her if she really wanted to escape? She’s smart. She uses crowds to her advantage and does not follow orders, especially if she knows they came from you. The way she is now, you can either keep her happy or keep her safe. She’s a wolf, like you, and wolves don’t do well on short leashes.”
That was too far. Even in his half-addled state, Neal knew that.
The familiar look of fire ignited behind Chris’ icy blues. Neal didn’t even have time to spit the blood that had collected in the back of his throat again before his boss reeled back, armored fist connecting with his left cheekbone. The hit forced him back to the ground, but the concrete held no mercy for him. Before his head could hit the pavement, he was hauled back up by his shirt collar. His head delirious from the abuse, he couldn’t even register the next few punches, just his own blood dripping from the glinting metal around Chris’ knuckles.
Finally, the grasp on his collar was released, and he he fell to a slump on the pavement. Muffled voices surrounded him, deafening in their ambiguity. But then he heard the familiar sound of a gun cocking. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but his pale gaze still peaked from one to see the barrel of his own gun pointed down at him.
“I expected so much more from you,” Chris said, softly enough that Neal almost had to read his lips to understand. His thumb went back to the safety, releasing it as his finger poised over the trigger. Neal closed his eyes, accepting a fate he had seen coming.
