Page 24 of Emerson

“Dill?” I whisper back.

“El…” Warren starts again behind Dillon, but the distinct sound of the door closing rings in the night. And then a fist banging on the solid surface. “Fuck,” Warren chokes out.

“Don’t,” Dillon bites out again to me. I’m already pushing against his chest, but he may as well be a brick wall for how good it does.

“Warren?” I call out, voice cracking with confusion.

Dillon groans, mutters, “Fuck,” before he’s ripped away from me.

It all happens so fast.

So fast.

The first punch seemed like instinct. Rage evident in every stitch of my brother’s features as he threw Dillon off me and went in with a hit to his face. It was after Dillon’s head was knocked sideways that Warren realized who he’d just assaulted.

“What the fuck are you doing, Dillon?” Warren seethes.

Dillon touches his split lip, fingers coming away bloody. “How many times do I have to tell you Bennets,” Dillon says, staring down my brother, “to mind your own fucking business.”

“That’s my baby brother,” Warren grits out, and honestly? I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so scary. I’m used to his size, used to him being rough around the edges and intimidating. But he looks positively lethal right now, and if there wasn’t a very real possibility that Dillon was about to get his ass handed to him, I’d be hard as a rock at how Dill doesn’t seem the least bit scared. He looks just as feral as my brother.

I’ve popped a lot of weirdly timed boners for Dillon, but this would even be a little too weird for me.

“Are you honestly going to pull that card with me?” Dillon laughs, not an ounce of humor in the sound. “You broke my baby sister's heart. Or have you forgotten about her already?”

“This has nothing to do with Morgan,” Warren yells.

“And Emerson can do what he wants,” Dillon snaps back.

“He sounded scared.”

My head is ping ponging between the two of them.

“Maybe because he just heard you and Elli—”

Warren charges at Dillon. They clash, nothing but curses and grappling arms. Warren manages to get Dillon in a headlock, and Dillon takes the opportunity to punch my brother in the stomach.

“Hey!” I yell, but neither of them pay me any attention. Dillon kicks Warren’s foot out, breaking his hold on his head so he can grab my brother by the front of his tshirt and headbutt him.

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Stop it!”

Warren grabs Dillon around the waist, punching anywhere he can with one arm. Dillon is elbowing my brother's shoulder and back repeatedly.

“Leave him out of this,” Warren grunts.

“You should have left him out of a lot of things,” Dillon rages.

Dillon pops my brother in the face, and Warren curses, but they don’t give it up. Heart in my throat, I charge at the two morons and jump on Warren’s back.

“That’s enough,” I yell, wrapping my arm around his neck and tugging. He tries to shake me off, and when that doesn’t work, he’s ready to continue the scrapple with me clinging to his back like a spider monkey.

It’s Dillon that steps back, chest heaving.

“I’m done,” he says, wiping at his bloody mouth. “I’m done,” he repeats, then shakes his head and turns, stalking away into the night.

“What the fuck, Warren?”