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Dirty Laundry

Chapter Thirteen

By Roofles

Intense Chapter Warning

Logan hit the bed, hard.

His front landing on the soft mattress that sunk in under his weight as his rear was lifted upwards by a hungry, drooling lion behind him. Sloan's hands slipped around the human's waist to grip and hold, squeeze and play with the human's rigid shaft through his pants.

It hurt.

Pumping and stroking the human off with his warm, pink paw padded fingers as Sloan continued to huff and pant a heavy breath against the nape of his exposed, naked neck; teeth inches away from biting into his sweet, supple, tender flesh.

This hurt.

Sloan's fingers were rough and forceful as they took off Logan's pants. Unzipping the front, practically ripping the button off before pulling them down and off. They were thrown over the lion's shoulder forgotten even before they hit the floor.

The smooth, creamy white flesh underneath his pink paw pads felt as nice as ever. Warm to the touch and soft, oh so soft. Logan was fit, muscular and he had some hair on his legs and body unlike some of the other human's the hungry predator had seen over the years. It was soft, just as his flesh was. That “fur" along his skin and between his legs, under his arms and on his chest. It was soft and warm just as Logan was.

Sloan probing digits traced over the human's rear. Rubbing it, petting it, stroking and teasing at his hole through the pair of silk briefs Logan had on. Sloan bent down to sniff him, to breathe in the other males scent and it only built up the hunger inside.

Drool splattered against Logan's back and he could only shiver, closing his eyes as the carnivore above him took him all in. Appreciating him like a prime cut piece of beef. That rough tongue licked up his thigh and Logan breath caught in his throat as those jaws closed around it shortly after; Sloan biting just hard enough to leave indentations in his skin after.

The silk boxer briefs Logan had bought just the other day were ripped off as the lion lifted one leg up, then the other to discard the garment along with his pants. They too were long forgotten as the hungry feline stared down at the half naked man in his bed.

Sloan movements were precise and focus, with one goal in mind as the lion climbed on top of him; climb over the smaller male and trapping Logan underneath his bulk and size. Sloan's strong arms rubbed against Logan's own, the lion's larger hands placed over the humans to hold him in place as his weight slowly sunk over Logan's body.

He could smell him. Logan could smell Sloan on these sheets. Smell the hungry, panting lion above him. Feel the heat coming from his exposed torso and from his zipped down fly. Logan felt it even before Sloan grinded his groin against the human's rear, gripping his hands tightly in his own and letting out a low, deep “mrow" that reverberated around them like a purr as Sloan's eyes fluttered closed.

He was preing already. How worked up had he been? Logan wasn't sure as he felt that dampness press between his cheeks, the lion just rubbing against him. Sloan's underwear was soaked through and a thick drop of pre oozed through the fabric to land on Logan's tail hole.

It was warm and slick, just as that tongue was the next second.

Sloan had pulled back in a single fluid motion before bending down to push his snout between Logan's cheeks. His hot, sultry breath washed over Logan's bare naked flesh as that damp tongue drooled out the lion's maw to taste him. To lick over his sensitive skin; nose pressed against his hole, the lion started just underneath Logan's sack. Licking up along his taint and tasting the man's long day on his lips.

The smell of him, of this smaller male, submitting and giving himself to Sloan only built the growl forming up inside his chest. Sloan was sure he was just as eager as he was. Just as excited by this. That smell of man, the strong stench of his sweaty hard working musky day filled the lion's lungs as he murred deeply from within his core and let it vibrate up through his throat and out against the human's hole.

Kissing it, licking it, biting at the tender flesh before burying his tongue deep inside him as Logan groaned out gripping the sheets with both hands. Sloan's hands spread the human's ass, pulling them apart so the lion's large muzzle could fit between them.

The whiskers were coarse and scratched against his ass cheeks. The snout pressed between his rear, the lion spreading him made the human grunt, clenching his eyes shut as he held back the moan threatening to escape him.

It hurt and Logan could only contain the pained sound from escaping him as the lion ravaged him in a lust filled frenzy.

Logan wasn't even sure how he ended up like this. Butt naked and raw before the predator whose apartment he was currently staying at.

Nails pricked his thighs making his breath catch in his throat as the lion's tongue licked his way up over his crack, along his back and over his neck in one single, long, wet slurp. Sloan tilted Logan's head the other way, exposing it for the lion's jaws to close around. Sharp teeth pricked Logan's exposed neck just as those claws did on his thighs. Just enough, to make the human hold perfectly still as Sloan positioned himself over him once more.

The lion's claws were used for grasping, holding and securing his prey. Making sure they couldn't escape him. They sunk in against Logan's skin and it was a miracle not a single one drew blood; it was as if the lion, on some subconscious level, understood just where to draw the line. That he so easily could dig his nails into his assistance thick meaty thighs but didn't.

How easily he had torn off Logan's shirt and coat. How he had ripped his underwear off, leaving him only in his socks on his bed. Sloan could've easily done the same to so much more of the human under him. Soft. Soft was the only word the hungry predator understood in that moment.

Tender, sweet, soft veal. It made him hunger. It made his cock twitch in the fat hanging sheath between his legs. It made his stomach growl and drool run between his lips.

A single thought lingered.

“Where's the fun in that?"

The act of holding him, restraining him, his nails preventing the human to escape him this time… that was what brought on the hunger building up inside. Not the act of harming Logan, no. It was the act that, if Sloan was so willing too, he could… He could scar this human just as his ex had and yet never would.

That power, that control made the lion's tail flick wildly behind him. Thrashing madly as Sloan's hot, sultry breath washed over Logan's face allowing, forcibly, sharing his breath with the human he was about to take this day.

To say Logan was on all fours would be inaccurate to the human's current position. On all fours would've implied he had some sort of position, some foot to metaphorically stand on. That wasn't what Sloan wanted, what Sloan needed. He wanted him helpless and meek under him this day.

He needed him to be this way for the lion, for his boss once more… so the lion could be on top, in control for once in his life.

Logan chest was on the bed, he was gripping the sheets that stunk of the lion looming over him. The pillow was pushed underneath his face and Logan buried it against the soft musky comfort of it as he felt the lion's weight slowly sink down over him, on him… trapping the smaller male underneath the large, horny animal topping him.

This wasn't his boss. This wasn't the man he knew. This wasn't Sloan. It was nothing more than a mindless animal in heat.

The lion topping him was almost feral. Growling out low and deep as his hands placed themselves over Logan's, pushing down against the mattress. Those large tawny gold, pink paw padded fingers slipped between them human's own who could only whimper helplessly as Sloan's nails dug into the sheets. Into the bedding. Into the mattress beneath them.

How easily those nails could've dug into him.

The blanket had been tossed aside; carelessly, haphazardly after the lion came into the room dragging Logan along. He had picked him up, twirling him around in the air and tossed him onto the bed before pouncing on him.

They'd spent the first thirty minutes just smacking lips. Kissing so aggressively Logan's tongue felt bruised by the end of it. Teeth marks were on his face, his hair was a mess, he was out of breath by the time the lion had turned him around to finish what they had started.

Logan felt like a piece of meat being tossed into the lion's dinner bowl… A toy for the large feline to play with as he will; playing with his food before devouring it.

Sloan's shirt was open showing off his bare chest and that thick mane that eased up as it ran all the way down his chest and into his drawers; a wonderful, glorious happy trail Logan had gladly felt up the first chance he'd gotten. The lion having popped open his pants before jumping on the human.

Their lips had met. Forcibly. Before Logan could say anything. Could use his sweet charm and silver tongue to coerce the lion into taking his sweet time with him. Slow and steady, fun and wild and to that glorious triumphant end. To have ones appetizer, the meal and finally the dessert.

Something Sloan wanted first and foremost, skipping the other two “meals" to savor and enjoy the last. Something he desperately needed that day.

Licking the human up before spinning him around and hunkering down in for the long run.

Logan felt Sloan's tip. Bare and raw. No cover, no lube. Only straight lion dick; human in nature but still somewhat almost feral and wild, untamed like the lion seemed to be above him. It protruded from the thick, heavy sheath that sagged beneath the lion with a weight and girth of its own. The lion's sack swung back and forth as he blindly found Logan's hole in the darkened room. Humping seemingly aimlessly at first until he found his mark.

Logan could hear the lion's breaths. Could feel the heat coming from him. The smell alone made Logan's head swim and it was hard to collect his thoughts and the second he did… Sloan punctured him. His head finding its mark and like a dart, struck his bull's eye.

Stars exploded in front of the human's vision as the lion fatty tip spread his hole. The thick girth spreading him further apart, opening him up for the throbbing, leaking shaft of the hungry feline mounting him.

The slickness and warmth of the pre helped ease the pain, help loosen and lube his inside for the rutting lion; it wasn't enough. Sloan was already pushing further inside and the human had to take it, baring his weight as Sloan shaft filled his small hole.

It hurt.

The lion was huffing, chuffing above him as Sloan rested more of his weight on him, practically laying on the human at this point with both their butts up in the air. Sloan's tail swayed back and forth as the warmth and pleasure took him. Those tight inside hugging and squeezing along his rigid, dripping length.

Logan was so warm, so tender inside that the lion could only let out another throaty murr of a purr as he brought his hips down hard enough the man under him let out a soft “squeak." The bed shook with the lion's hump. A single hump had rocked the mattress up against the wall, making a dull “thunking" sound.

Sloan didn't care. He didn't care if the neighbors complain. He wanted them to hear them. Wanted everyone to know what was happening here while also, secretly, savoring the sweet secret that was him and his assistant.

Such stray thoughts swam through the lion's foggy mind as he continued to hump against the human. Hilting his throbbing length in Logan's rear before pulling back and repeating the process. Slapping his thick thigh's against the back of Logan's, resting his bulk and weight on the human as he pushed as far as he could into the man under him.

Dripping. Leaking. Mating this man under him.

The bed shook again, thumping against the wall as the feline growled out low and deep, tilting and arching his back as he held Logan's hands. That was what this was, right? Holding his hands as he mated him, took him here in his bed.

It hurt…

“Logan," Sloan chuffed out a breath.

“Logan…"

“I need this," the lion growled between clenched teeth. “I need you."

“I need you."

“Fuck, you feel so good." Sloan continued as he pivoted his hips forward, arching his back and letting out a throaty sound of a hungry predator reaching satisfaction. Logan just kept his eyes closed.

Trying not to think.

Trying not to recall it, that time.

“You feel so good…"

Huffing, panting, the human grabbed at the sheets… trying to hold onto them as if afraid, afraid he'd slip away.

“Oh, Logan. My Logan…"

“Stop…" Logan wanted to beg, to plead as he gritted his teeth tears burning in his eyes. The lion continued, pressing down on him, rutting him like a wild beast.

“Don't worry," the sweetest of words from the tiger's maw. “I'll make sure you remember tonight," and his nails pricked the human's back. “My mark will forever be with you. So you can never forget me…"

Sloan slammed his hips against the human, hitting the head board against the wall and breaking the foundation slightly as he roared out his climax. His finish. Filling this man, his man, this human, his human under him.

His hefty sack pulled up, tightening as his dick jumped, lurching as it pulsed white hot lion spunk into the human's rear. Logan could feel it. Not just the thickness filling him, the weight of it as it poured into his insides. No, he could feel the lion's shaft pulsing, bulging with each stream of that fluid. Spreading his ass, just a little further, for each load the lion had to give him.

And he had a lot to give.

“Fuck." Logan tried to clench his teeth, to swallow the word away and not to show his weakness in front of the predator.

“You'll never forget today." The tiger had practically purred into his ear as Logan cried silently against the bed, blood dripping down his back and sides. “You'll never be able to forget me now…"

“Stop." “Stop." “Stop, please. It hurts…" “It hurts." It hurts, this hurts.

Logan was sure there was blood mixed into the lion's seed dripping from his rear as Sloan pulled out. He was sure he was bloody and raw.

There was no prep done. Logan hadn't planned this. He hadn't been able to prepare himself for the hungry beast taking him.

He hadn't then, and he hadn't now… as the blood dripped from his scars.

“Logan," Sloan said his name as if only now recalling where he was and what he was doing. The lion pulled back, withdrawing from over the human and covered his mouth with a hand.

He could smell Logan on it. On his fingers and pink paw pads. He had groped and felt the human up all the way in the elevator, down the hall and finally now here… in his bedroom? The lion thought, looking around before blinking several times.

The stench of sex was in the air. There was a wet slickness on his palm, maybe from Logan's orgasm from pumping him until the very end. It was sweet, tangy and Sloan tasted it, tasted him, on his fingers even before his mind could fully wake back up.

Today had been something else and now he… what had he done? Sloan could barely recall as if he'd been drunk; riding a high after meeting up with Logan again. Clinging to the human after today and just…

“Why'd you stop?" Logan said in that sweet, sing song voice that was far gayer than he ever could truly be. He shook his ass, wanting to just get this over with but the lion had withdrawn his advances. “Teasing me, big boy?" Logan tried to sound flirty. Slutty. Horny. “I can keep going," it hurts, “I don't need to stop," I want this to stop. “I can take more," please no…

That's what they liked.

No matter how much it hurt; Logan couldn't let them see how it affected him. See how much it made him bleed… How many old scarred over memories it brought back.

That's what a predator like Sloan was into… helpless prey submitting and giving themselves to them. “Just a piece of meat," Logan held the words back knowing just how spiteful they would be if he ever said them aloud.

His ass stung and his insides felt as if someone had turned a taken a screwdriver to them. It hurt and he still held that smile on his face, blinking away the tears so the lion couldn't see them.

I've had worse, Logan bitterly thought as he kept up that smile. This is nothing…

Sloan held up a hand to stop the human, rubbing the other over his face as he took a seat on the bed trying to jar his mind back into place. The lion's weight made the bed sink in and Logan found himself sliding towards the large feline until their sides bumped. Sloan didn't even seem to notice as he hunkered over on his knees, hands folded together as he stared down at the floor.

Sloan was still breathing heavily. His heart was thundering as he took deep lung filling breaths of air. It stunk. The air stunk of them. He could smell it, Sloan didn't need to see what he'd done. The smell of sex, and the faint tingle of blood, was in the air.

What had he done? Why had he done this? Like this. “Not like this." Sloan wanted to say but as he opened his maw, nothing came out. This is what he… wanted? Control, power over someone else. To dominate them in more ways than one.

There was a moment of silence as the two collected themselves both physically and mentally. Logan glanced over at the lion but held his tongue, waiting for the large predator to go first.

That's what they wanted…

Sloan's breathing had eased up, his heart wasn't pounding painfully in his chest anymore, the ringing in his ears was gone and… and the mist over his mind had cleared… he was still very horny and his tip was dripping, aching, twitching with need. Wanting to go again. Seconds? Thirds? Sloan always did help himself, more than once, at the table… The lion ignored it for the time being as he closed his eyes, using a hand to rub over them feeling very weary and tired in that moment.

He should've been elated to be back here, with Logan. Now. Now he felt raw as he was sure Logan's ass was.

“Are you… ok?" Logan's voice cut through the thoughts building up inside, creating a wall that prevented the lion from seeing anything or anyone until Logan spoke. It, in itself, was jarring. How much sway and control this human had over him. How he affected him.

How he seemed to… care. Despite everything Sloan was.

Sloan glanced over at him and, with a chuff, he turned away.

“I'm fine." Sloan just said making Logan's face twist in annoyance and disappointment. “I'm just… fine. Is all…" He cursed his pride, in that moment, wanting to say more. To reach over and holding the human but kept his hands to himself.

Sometimes rough sex could be fun. Even if, with a lion, it could also be a way to lose a limb.

“Fine isn't good." Logan offered sitting up a bit now before planting his naked ass next to the lion. Sloan had to admit, Logan held a confidence, even butt naked, that he envied. Sloan felt… naked, without his suit on.

Naked and exposed…

Sloan reached up to touch around his neck, as if looking for, searching for his tie. Wanting it back on him, to put his suit back on and just… he wasn't sure what he'd do then. Being open like this, to be raw and exposed… Logan held it so much better than he did, that he could.

“It isn't great, either." Logan continued looking away from the lion. “Hell, it's not even up there with okay or I'll get by." The human chuckled lightly. “Fine is just above… dead." He frowned at the word before looking at the lion. “I don't like you being dead."

Sloan gave him a look at that.

“Dead?" Sloan had to ask, focusing on the word Logan had repeated. His eyes became unfocused, recalling earlier that day. The things he had seen. His family. His life… the life he willingly returned too.

“More like… numb." Logan took a moment, thinking about it. “Numb to the world. Blind? Willfully ignorant!" The human chuckled speaking about several things now making the lion's large round ears perk up in confusion as he looked at Logan as if he'd gone crazy. Maybe he really did fuck him too hard and knocked a screw loose. “Just… living." Logan lay back in the bed looking up at the ceiling.

He felt his stomach, rubbing over it. It was fine. The lion seed inside, his bloody raw hole. The fact his insides were a twisted knotted mess after… that. It was fine, because Logan was sure his insides were already a mess. At least those, he could hide from the world… unlike the scars on his back.

Sloan took a moment before doing the same, lying back with the human in bed with their legs kicked over the end. Sloan was still in his shirt and pants… the two, in their own way, preventing themselves from being fully… naked, exposed, vulnerable in front of the other. Even in his lustful state, Sloan hadn't ripped Logan's shirt off as if knowing that was where the line was. Not to draw blood or expose Logan's back…

Let the human hide it away, pretend it wasn't there.

Those scars…

“Jaded." Logan said, finally seeming to find the word he'd been looking for. He glanced over at the lion before back up at the ceiling. “Jaded to life. Jaded to your job. Friends. Family. Everyone… just, dead inside. Numb, as if… paralyzed. Or drugged… to not feel… anything."

And the way Logan said that made the lion's heart go out to him as the two lay there, looking up at the ceiling creating patterns through it with their minds, connecting the tiled holes. Or at least that was what Sloan was doing.

Letting his mind wander as the shapes and patterns took form before him. Creating images and mural in the tiles before they shifted and changed to something else as if they were never fully connected. That they were slightly off and that if Sloan tried… he could do better. Creating a better picture, a better scenario to live in if only for this brief moment in time.

Sloan owned several different kinds of murals. He had hung them up on the walls of his new place. They went well with the sleek design, modern apartment that Logan was sure had to have cost him a couple thousands a month at least. Some of these pictures where white and black marble, others were abstract and wild seemingly making no sense with various shapes of different colors and sizes clashing and yet forming together in the end…

It fascinated him.

These pictures. These murals on the walls, in the museum and in the art books he coveted and collected. Going to galleries and showcases to see if there were any new pieces he wanted to add to his ever growing collections.

Two things that seemed so out of place combining together, dancing with each other to create and form a new picture and shape. Just like the two had done in bed this night. Two bodies from two different worlds meeting and dancing, entangling their limbs and bodies together before connecting and making something new. Different. Something that captivated and fascinated the lion lying there in bed with the human.

Sloan's hand bumped into Logan's and before the lion could say anything, Logan had rested it in his much larger palm. Sloan curled his fingers around Logan's, looking over at it. Their hands, joined as one. Creating something.

Something new, something better than he could ever fully, truly be by himself…

Having two apartments was nothing on his salary. Using this second one as a storage unit to keep all his things. It was a clustered mess, just like that mural; numerous objects of various sizes and shapes all forced into the small space. And yet, in the end, he felt more at home here than he did at his spacious apartment he rented in the upper echelons above the others on the hills. Despite the price, it was worth it to create something new.

Something all his own, a place even his family didn't know about.

His old apartment was close by and near his family. They had rented it out and paid for him. His food, his apartment, even his damn car… they had taken care of all of that for him. Just like the clothes they put on his back. Nothing was his…

But here, now, holding the human's hand in his own. It felt, maybe, like something, someone was his. Just like this place. This apartment. It wasn't perfect, no. It was broken, messy, cluttered and yet at the same time… captivatingly beautiful.

Sloan sat up. The movement catching the human's attention. Be it out of fear, worry or something else Logan watched as Sloan slowly, carefully stripped off his jacket and got up to hang it on the wall so it didn't wrinkle. The lion patted it, smoothing it out and dusting off the shoulders as he looked it over.

“It's funny." Sloan said drawing Logan's attention in further as if enraptured, enamored with the conversation that hadn't even started. The lion's heavy tone and voice always made shivers run up Logan's sides. It was hard to tell if it was out of interest or fear for the lion though… “We wear suits to fit in…"

“We?" Logan wanted to ask but held his tongue.

“To say 'we are in the same league as you!'" The lion chuffed a laugh just looking at the suit, almost with pity. A sadness lingering behind his eyes. “That if we dress up as them, maybe then… they'd forget what we are." Sloan muttered the last part as he traced a sharp nail over the front of the suit, running it down the front.

The lion looked down at his hand as if seeing something there Logan couldn't. Blood that couldn't be washed away…

“You look damn good in it, sir." Logan said, standing up to join Sloan. Logan winced, his rear stinging at the movement but held it well enough.

The lion looked over at him. A sad smile pulled up on his muzzle.

“I'm sorry if I hurt you, earlier." He said taking a moment once more. It was a great strain for him to do so, to apologize and Logan knew that if even a single other soul was in this room… the lion would rather die than do so.

Pride cometh before the fall.

“Got to loosen a gal up before you…" Logan tried to be playful but it faltered as he looked at the lion's face. His muzzle had dipped down and Sloan was looking at the floor, the space between them… There was concern behind those eyes and once more, Logan felt a weight in his stomach as if someone had dropped a heavy stone into it. “Sloan…" He said the name and the lion looked back up into his face.

This is getting too real, again.

Logan wanted to say, the thought on the tip of his tongue but once more… he found himself biting the bullet, swallowing the poison pill and denying himself the relief of saying so. If he did, if he admitted it and back out… again… then he couldn't do his job.

He was sure if he left, again, he wouldn't be able to come back. Logan couldn't afford that. No matter how much they hurt him. No matter how much he… bled. Someone had to take it. Logan would gladly throw himself on the chopping block to prevent some unfortunate soul from suffering his fate.

Sloan was a member of The Pride. He was a criminal. A monster. A predator… someone that needed to be stopped before he could hurt anyone else and yet… Logan wanted to reach out for him, to grab hold of his hand. And…

Run away?

The bittersweet thought almost put a smile on Logan's face and he laughed a dry sound that wasn't filled with any form of humor. Even at the bitter thought, he knew there was no where he could run.

That he couldn't find him…

“Sloan," Logan said his name again and forced a single step closer to the lion. He reached out a hand and it felt… heavy, as if weighed down. His own body resisting his efforts as Logan brushed the side of that muzzled face in front him.

The whiskers tickled the palm of his hand and the fur was soft against his fingers as he held the weight of Sloan's head as the lion cradled it against his fingers. So fierce, so prideful and strong… and yet, before Logan, he looked nothing but an overgrown kitten in a suit.

“I don't know what to do." Logan wanted to say but, surprisingly, Sloan was the one to say it first.

“I don't know what to do." The lion said aloud, what Logan had only been thinking. His eyes didn't meet Logan's as Sloan just looked to the side. “I want…" So much. “I need…" So much… “I'm trying…" so hard…

And Sloan could only close his eyes as he rested against the human's hand, using it to support his body from crumbling to the floor as he noticeably shook and it took Logan a second to realize… the lion was crying.

Sloan wanted to put his suit back on. It wasn't just a symbol, it was an armor. An armor that kept others at bay. Kept them from getting too close. Yet, somehow, Logan had found his dagger through the chink in his armor and straight into his heart…

And that pained the lion more than anything else.

That this small, fragile human in front of him had so much power over him. And Sloan wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees, hug Logan against himself and tell him, admit to him all the deepest, darkest secrets lurking behind the mask he wore.

Even after hurting him…

As if, maybe then, Sloan could be released of these burdens. His life. His pride and his family…

…..

Several hours earlier, out behind a country club near where Sloan lived there was a gathering forming around the fifteenth hole out over the lush bright green, rolling hills of the golf course sitting behind the building.

The country club was restricted, gated and had guards surrounding the large, almost looming building up near the hills. Covered in windows, the yellow, red brick roof building seemed out of place in the city outskirts. Looking as if its clay foundation came from down south rather than up here in Washington where most buildings tended to be far sleeker designer look as if waiting their turn to walk down the runway.

Green Hill Country Club was located on the edge of the city, barely within its boundaries. Sloan was sure it was for some tax break, being outside of the city but close enough still to be accessible for the rich and wealthy to partake in while their wage slaves worked tirelessly to line their pockets.

It was one of several fronts The Pride used during their meets; never telling or giving their location away until the day of. “Going golfing" was the simplest of the clues to crack. Most figured it meant something else while Sloan was unfortunate enough to know his father, who happened to love playing golf, literally meant just that.

To meet up out here, in the open strangely enough, on the golf course of the country club they privately owned, through underhanded back ended means that is of course. The books were stacked, half of which were fake. Plenty of things to give anyone snooping around; enough money, or a bullet, could be very persuasive to keep those sniffing around out of their business.

Sloan was never bothered by seeing his father, despite his shaky, at best, relationship with the man. It was the way in which is father summoned them that always got underneath the lion's thick hide.

Golfing was a term they used often, back when Sloan was living with The Pride. Back when he was a much, much younger man. The act of golfing was just that; wealthy, rich businessmen playing a round of golf… while the hard working saps did all the dirty work for them while they profited.

It was just like the suit, the armor, Sloan had put on for the occasion. A falsity, a pretense these animals in suits put on to showcase their wealth, status and, mostly, just how clean their paws were of everything.

It was hard to arrest someone with squeaky clean fingers and an army of lawyers in their corner just waiting for someone foolish enough to try and arrest one of them without concrete proof.

An alibi to cover their own asses while they threw their children and underlings to take care of the gritty work that needed to be done in order to continue to line their pockets with the “status" they craved so much.

Something so coveted that his father, the old lion they were all waiting for, would toss away his first and eldest son to the hyenas in order to protect and keep…

Sloan understood it, to an extent, as he took his place to the side with his half brothers and sisters; his mother most likely had other children after him. He was in contact with none of them, assuming they too had been “removed" over the years.

His family had come from Sicily, Italy. Before that, emigrating from parts of Africa though Sloan wasn't sure where from it was so many generations ago. If had been willingly done or if they had forcibly been taken... They had lost most of that when the raids hit Italy, forced to move overseas for fear of “them" finding the lions, or any other predator at the time.

World Wars had been fought over less. Predators were easy scapegoats in the end. Put all the blame on them while hoarding the riches for themselves. Distract the masses while stealing everything from underneath their feet.

Coming here had been their way of escaping that life. Or so they thought. A newfound sort of speciesm met them off the ship, coming to the “new world." Something that, even hundreds of years later, was still following in their footsteps. Something that even crossing the ocean itself… they couldn't escape from, not fully.

Sloan's childhood hadn't been kind nor had it been… stable. Or subtle. Despite being large cats, they were a loud, prideful, boisterous family and loud were the ones who hated them for it.

He could recall his mother, her thick Italian accent that made the neighbors look at her as if she had just sprouted two heads, dropping him off at school. At the other kids and their parents looking at her as she went on and on about his, biological, mother. Those things one kept quiet and “hush hush" in the household was on full display for his entire class to enjoy in his suffering.

If being a lion wasn't hard enough, he also had the family to deal with. East Coast didn't mix well with the West Coast; blood and oil. Add a lion into the mix and you might as well have lit that concoction on fire while you were at it.

And this family gathering wasn't any quieter than the rest; whoever thought large felines were the silent killers they claimed to be clearly never been to a Thanksgiving dinner with some.

“Clarity and Monica," Lorrell began gesturing towards two lions before waving her hand back and forth. “No, no. The other Monica, you know the one. With the unibrow." She gestured once more and Sloan caught the flash of acrylic nails designed to look like, well, feline claws on her fingers.

It was a common fad for those who wanted claws without showing or, in some cases, having them. They came in all designs, sizes and styles that usually matched the species in which were getting them. A badgers nails were far longer than that of a felines, they were blunt used for digging while most felines used theirs for climbing in the more “primal" days that is.

Then there were humans which Sloan didn't even want to think about.

Lorrell was his second sister, twice removed? It was rather hard to keep track of it all. Sloan only knew her name due to the fact she was one of the very few lionesses that managed to get a position in the top perch where the big cats hung out.

Sure there were plenty of others here that didn't fully… belong. A lynx and what looked like some sort of bobcat were nearby, clearly standing off to the side away from the others. There was a tiger as well as what looked to be some sort of cheetah. The spots were cheetah but they were a lot thicker than Sloan expected of them; he could only figure she was some sort of hybrid offspring. Something he was sure his father would hate.

Whenever he did end up gracing them with his presence.

Unlike others, lions had a hierarchy that meant most at the top were just a bunch of lazy fat cats that made those under them do all the work. So long as his father could keep the position, he knew the man wasn't required to do anything directly to keep the family going. The lionesses, of old, hunted while the men get to go play golf.

With the exception of Lorrell… and the fact the family had begun using males, and even outsiders, in order to get the last couple of jobs done. Their numbers had taken a hit, hard, and it was going to be a long road to recovery.

Sloan wondered, if his family should recover… but kept such thoughts to himself as Enzo, his brother, came over to greet him. Or more likely, ask him for a favor.

Lorenzo Kincaid was from the main branch of the family, like Sloan, and their recently departed brother Jeron. Enzo preferred the nickname only in recent… years. Even to this day, it was hard to look at the lion who had once been the “Face of the Pride." Now? Now the other lion' went out of their way not to look at him.

Smaller than Sloan and thinner than his older, eldest brother, Enzo had luxurious golden fur that put the morning sun to shame. He kept it well groomed, trimmed and used one too many products seemingly from the smell coming off him. His muzzle was tilted up with his smile, showing all his fangs as he walked over to Sloan with a swagger to his step.

Sloan diverted his eyes.

The sun caught Enzo's mane well enough, highlighting the gold and red mixed into the dark mane traced with black that gave them all a picturesque look. Sloan was sure their grandfather, on his mother side, was an actor for the very same reason in fact. Enzo's eyes were bright and his voice had that certain smugness that matched his step. He would've been great in theater.

Or rather, one of his eyes were bright. The other stared blankly forward on the burned side of his face…

Enzo had been there, when the warehouses on the docks had been attacked by The Pack last year. He, as well as a few others, managed to escape with the skin on their back… mostly, intact. The fire had been fierce and one of the Molotov cocktails used during the raid had splashed onto one side of his face, taking with it half his mane, face and, Sloan knew, half his mind…

“Bro! You made it!" Enzo threw open his arms and Sloan made sure to keep both eyes on the left side of his face, ignoring the burned furless arm that wrapped around him from Enzo's right. “I knew you would. Family first, an' all that." Enzo chuckled.

He laughed. And he laughed to the point everyone else there was looking at him before turning away once more as he began to calm down. No one wanted to be caught staring. The last person who had got the barrel of his gun rammed down their throat.

“You. You, you, you! You're the man! The one I wanted to see, like. Jeron, bless his soul," Enzo crossed his chest and a couple of others did the same muttering their own quick prayers on the matter before going back to their own business. “He was a good one, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Good one."

Enzo was twitching slightly. His tail didn't stay still and he had a bad, disgusting, habit of scratching at the burned flesh on his face sending bits of dried, dead skin into the air as he muttered incoherently to himself. His one good eye was unfocused, if only for that moment as he muttered something else.

“He'd have been a star. Amongst the best. So young. Younger than me? No, he was older. Second. Sloan first, then Jeron, then Enzo. Yeah, yeah…" Enzo muttered under his breath trying to focus.

Sloan knew he was taking something. What that was? He was afraid to ask. As open as the family was, there were certain things you just don't talk about. Simply ignoring the problem standing directly in front of them.

“Be nice to your brother!" His mother had said and Sloan was left with a rather nasty bruise on his forehead from where she had hit him for the rest of the day when he had tried to ask about it after reconnecting with Enzo.

Enzo muttered for a few more seconds before refocusing, centering on the lion before him. Even Sloan felt uneasy around his brother when he was like this. That cat like pupil turned into a slit, staring at him longer than was necessary before easing up as he smiled once more.

“What did you need, Enzo?" Sloan kept his voice calm, even and flat. Not about to let Enzo pounce on the way in which he said something; worried it might trigger another… episode.

Seeing the damage done to his brother, though, Sloan couldn't fault his bloodlust in all this. Enzo had been in charge of the recent raids on the wolves. Reclaiming territory for the pack and yet, everyone knew, it went far deeper than that.

“Right. Right, right." Enzo kept saying the same words over. As if one word was for Sloan, one word was for himself and the last one…? Even Sloan wasn't sure. Maybe for Jeron, their fallen brother who'd lost his life to the wolves. “I got these legal things, right." Enzo just began. Sloan frowned at that.

Sloan, the eldest son, had been kicked out of the pride due to his age and age alone. He was a level headed, well rounded guy that had not only gone to law school but graduated with top marks. Everything in his life had been paid for and taken care of by the family; their own way of keeping tabs on him. Checking his accounts, the money he made, what he spent and the things he bought with it.

His entire life had been just that. A cage, being kept an eye on and watched. Fed by others, groomed by others, hell even dressed by others as the suit he wore clung extra tight this afternoon underneath the rare chance of sun there had been.

“Of course. Just… email it to my office," Sloan began. He grumbled, not wanting to take care of any more of these annoyances that kept falling on his lap. Make an appearance, smile for the damn camera and then head home. That was all he had planned.

That's what he had hoped this afternoon would be. It was anything but.

“I got the receipts and just," Enzo was pulling out wads of crumbled pieces of paper that Sloan wasn't even sure what they all were for. Some looked like simple parking tickets, others Sloan was sure was a warrant for something or other.

The entire family treated Enzo with kitty paws. He was, truly, the face of The Pride. Handsome, once, their starlight that had planned to hit Broadway. And now? Now he was scarred and damaged from their line of work. From their rival gang and what it truly meant being part of this life. And the cost it showed, it showed on Enzo more so than anyone else standing there.

Well, except for those who weren't standing there… buried six feet under.

It was why Sloan put up with Enzo. Treated him the best he could while also drawing a line in the grass he wasn't allowed to cross. Enzo would steal your record player and then sell it back to you the very next morning; something his younger brother had done to Sloan even before…

After his… accident, Enzo had only gotten more repulsive with his wants, demands and actions. As if his outside had finally matched what was inside this entire time.

“Send them to the office and I'll… I'll deal with it." Sloan said without a promise. Enzo dropped the crumbled papers onto the ground before him and practically giggled like a mad hyena before accepting his words as some sort of oral agreement.

“Be nice, to our baby brother." Lorrell walked over with her head held high, shoulders back and breasts forward. If Sloan was a lesser man, he might've been intimidated by the tall lioness.

Lorrell usually kept her hair up in a bun but today, being a special occasion, it was draped around her shoulders covering her front just enough to hide what her dress didn't. The sleek design clung to her body well, curving nicely around the sides and over her perky ass; something Sloan knew was fake, as he had to deal with the paper work on the matter.

“L." Sloan greeted her with a grunt and left it at that.

“Always the charmer," Lorrell took her place at his side, looking out over the mix matched group before them. Tall, fat, young, old, several from branch families and what looked like a few mix breeds… “Just as charming as this bunch…" She muttered bitterly to herself, placing an arm over the other and holding her hand up just enough for the fake nails to be pointed downwards.

Sloan had heard how painful those nails felt and never wanted to be on the receiving end of them.

“Dear old dad seems to have fallen from his stature," Sloan noted under his breath. Something he knew only his sister could hear. Enzo was lost in his own world, wandering around the two but always keeping close. His younger brother seeming to know they were related and in a way, because of that, he was safe around them.

“One bad play after another will get that happening." Lorrell inspected her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. Sloan knew she was keeping a watchful eye on several of the younger females that had joined them.

Sloan knew what that was like. Or had known.

Being the eldest, he knew all the younger males under him had been vying for his position and spot in the pride unaware he'd be kicked out for being who and what he was. It was just another day in the Kincaid family. Fake smiles on the face, knives behind their backs.

“I see you've made plenty of… good plays, recently." Sloan just continued talking to her without facing towards Lorrell. The two had their own means, being the eldest here. They had survived this long not through strength but cunning and guile.

They weren't a wolf pack, after all. Brains outmatched brawn any day of the week on this playing field.

“I've had some good turns," Lorrell agreed lightly. “Some well placed pieces. Some lucky moves, I guess." She downplayed her position even though she was the only female here who held one of the branch offices under her direct control.

“The others, on the other paw." Sloan grumbled looking over at several others. Absentmindedly turning his head from one side towards the others.

Each of the seven branch families had their own representative with what Sloan liked to call their “entourage." Each with their own stylized mane, different colored silk suits and “bling" that showed their age more so than their credibility they had been going for. There was only one word to summarize them all.

“Young," was the one thing Sloan couldn't ignore. Those here couldn't be any older than his assistant was. Most had to be riding their parents coat tails in order to even get this far.

“And disappointing," Lorrell added on glancing at the gaggling group of females talking as if they were at some kind of social outing. In a way it was, just not the kind they seemed to be taking it for.

Sloan thought it was foolish, and dangerous, to gather like this. But, he supposed, The Pride didn't get their name from species alone…

“Where is dear old dad," Enzo asked stalking back over. He kept glancing one way then the other, fidgeting where he stood as if suffering from a personal earthquake. Worrying about something neither of the two could begin to fathom what it could be. “It's been too long," he muttered scratching at his burns.

Lorrell turned away from the scene, though never said anything about him stopping.

“Why even call all of us out here…" Sloan was the one to ask, feeling exposed out here in the open like this. Out on the golf course, without even golfing. It just felt… wrong.

“Big news, apparently." Lorrell rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed even without knowing. “I wouldn't have come,"

“If we could say no. Right…" Sloan muttered, finishing her sentence for her.

His ears perked even before he fully registered the sound. Sloan, as well as several others, turned their heads in time for a golf cart that came up over one of the rolling bends of the course and towards them. A female was driving. She had a dark suit on with tinted glasses and an earpiece, Sloan quickly noted her gun as well.

In the passenger seat was “dear old dad."

Old was the best way to summarize his father.

His mane was decrypt, wispy and the color was fading out of it along with his fur. The tawny gold, Sloan had inherited from his father, was fading to a dull grayish yellow. Looking more like a pee stain on a carpet in an old run down motel than anything else. His mane blew in the wind, the lack of fur in it showing through as it did. With dull eyes and an oxygen tank, their father got out of the cart only after it came to a halt in front of the gathered felines.

Using one of the golf clubs like a cane, he stood up. The old lion swatted a hand at the security personal driving who came over to help him. Yelling at her before breaking down into a fit of coughing. Grabbing violently for the oxygen mask, Mr. Kincaid took several hits of it. Taking numerous deep breaths, before throwing the thing back into the cart with a scowl as he faced towards the others.

Everyone there acted as if they hadn't seen it, while fully knowing they had.

“It's been some time, since we all last gathered together…" Sloan's fathers eyes focused on him for a moment before scanning over everyone else. Despite his age, his father's voice still held the deep, domineering tone it always had. No matter the situation it always sounded as if he were talking down to you. “A lot has happened. And it disappoints me."

His tone was even, calm and flat just as how Sloan had spoken. He had inherited a lot from his father.

Addressing each group separately gave Sloan plenty of time to mull things over as he stood there like a golden Oscar statuette; a show he tried to watch every year with a tall glass of wine. Watching to see what “people" justified being the best in the country, that deserved his time and effort. How these people, predators or not, were able to fit into this society that depicted them as the monsters of old. Winning awards and congratulating themselves on a “job well done" and claiming to “change things" while everything remained the same the following year…

Was that what he was to his father? To these people, his own family? The good son? The one who went to law school and got a degree. One who had kept his hands, for the most part, out of the families dealings and clean. An icon for everyone here to inspire for, to tell their children about and who they should strive to be like.

Was that why his family had shut the door on him. To keep his hands clean as they dirtied theirs? A hollow, empty thought grasping at some kind of reason for why they treated him the way they did. His own family seeming to ostracize him from their ranks.

“I hear you rejoined the family business," his father began with Sloan when it came to his time to be talked down too and rebuked for his actions. “Was sending you to college not enough? Couldn't even last a couple of years with a real job." His father had plenty of ammunition of his own. Choosing to use words instead of bullets to get his point across.

Sloan was used to it. This verbal abuse. It was common enough among those he worked with, worked for and just the daily people he encountered on an average day be them clients or strangers on the street. Being talked down too was amusing, coming from the shorter stiff gray furred lion. His own father having to look up at him.

Sloan was puffing out his chest, shoulders back with his head held high as he looked blankly forward as his father continued. Just waiting for the time he could leave, again. Let them sow their own seeds they had planted.

“It wasn't like you missed the family," Mr. Kincaid continued. Sloan wanted to roll his eyes but kept them at bay. Everyone had their turn being chastised for something this man before him had done to them. He was a cold hearted man in his desires and would gladly toss any of them under the bus to achieve what was “best for the family."

And still, despite it all; the verbal abuse, being tossed out of the family and then blamed for leaving. The financial shackles placed on him; being watched what he bought, told where he could live and even set up on numerous dates that had led nowhere…

Sloan had never hated his father.

Mr. Kincaid was from an older generation, Sloan understood. It was one of those sad facts about being an adult. When you look at your parents, you see the baggage they carry more than anything else as you begin experiencing the same thing. The hell him and his mothers had to go through, Sloan could only imagine.

Let alone after the stories he heard about their grandfather. Now there was a lion who needed to be put down. Something his father, and the family, never brought up and yet Sloan still knew all about. His own father had used himself as a punching bag for his old man in order to protect his sisters, and that was the stuff his mother had let slipped after one of her binges.

“Still single." His father shifted his steely gaze over towards Lorrell who just smiled back; it was the fake smile Sloan recognized from his old job. The others gave him that smile when he had to talk to them. Faking it in front of the lion while hiding their disdain for him.

Did his father know that? Know that every single person here hated his guts? Or did he know there was at least one person here who didn't fully… hate him.

Sloan hoped, this might be the chance, to talk with him. Son to father, away from any prying ears. Not to reconnect but, maybe, try to find some common ground at least to stand on.

“You can pretty yourself up, get all the work done our money can afford! And still end up with an empty bed," his father scowled before moving on. Lorrell held back a laugh, clearly wanting to say something on the matter and holding her tongue as Sloan had.

Sloan was sure Lorrell wasn't alone in her bed; in fact, he was sure there were plenty of others in it with her. If she said something he was sure his old man would have a heart attack, however.

“And you…" He began turning on Lorenzo Kincaid, Sloan's younger brother.

Enzo stopped scratching at his face, turning his pale eye towards their father with a blank empty look on his face as if only now seeing that he was there. It was hard to say, Sloan was never fully sure. It was like the cat had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A blank look of shock and awe, unsure what to say or do as their father began.

“Unable to protect the trade. Losing the docks!" Spittle flew in the air as the old lion began gesturing violently at the disgrace the youngest Kincaid had brought on the family. “Do you even know how much that set us back? How many years of work just… gone! Gone up in smoke," Mr. Kincaid tried to laugh but it came out more of a dry cough. “And then there's your face." Their father just had to bring up as if pouring salt in the open wound wasn't bad enough.

Sloan tail stuck out at that and he exchanged a look with his sister.

“Uh, sir…" The lioness behind Mr. Kincaid began. She was quickly dismissed, her hand being slapped away.

“Stay out of this." Mr. Kincaid ordered before shooting a glare at the others standing there. “All of you stay out of this. This needs to be said."

“Yes, because saying something will fix things." Sloan grumbled, biting his own tongue to stop the wise ass comment from slipping out.

Enzo had been through so much. Even the family doctors couldn't help the lion with the chronic pain. The burns were ugly, even after they healed. The skin grafts hadn't set and Enzo had to go half a year battling necrosis. His fur had lost its luster and his mane wouldn't fully ever grow back.

Lorenzo Kincaid had been the pretty boy of the family and had wanted to go to Hollywood. Sloan and Lorrell had even helped plan to spirit him away so he could get his chance to be under that spotlight; the stand out for all the right reasons, instead of wrong ones they seem to be doing. His father had seemingly caught wind of this and had quickly placed him in a position that was vital to their very life line of the family trade; the docks.

The trading docks where ships from all over the world came in through. Massive freighters transporting stolen goods, guns and drugs from overseas. They had deals on their deals with deals sprinkled on top. The Kincaid family had moved from the East Coast, leaving the gang wars behind to start their own life here.

But as always, they seemed to be one step behind.

The Pack, led by a cruel merciless Alpha that went by the name Mauler, had already set up their base of operation here. Ruling the underbelly of the city and controlling everything that entered and exited the city. The Pack had seemingly imploded on itself leaving the leftover pickings for the scavengers in recent years.

It should've been an easy job. Sloan never understood why it had taken them so long to swoop in to claim the space left after the power vacuum had been created. He supposed it had to do with their name. The Kincaid family hubris, above everything else, was their pride. The Pride.

And even now, standing here, forced to endure this abuse… all he could see was the pride around him.

Fancy suits, standing out underneath the beating sun dripping sweat and pretending it wasn't running down their ass cracks as their leader, their own father, berated them for their failures while neglecting to mention any of their successes over the years.

Out here in the open, like this, other than the caddy showing up with several golf clubs and balls there wasn't a single soul out here but them. It was preposterous. It was stupid beyond belief! Sloan wanted to shout at them all for coming out here, for exposing themselves like this and making it very clear something was going on.

But then there was that pride. Something that made sure they didn't tuck tail and hold this meeting, this family reunion, in some dank dark safe basement. They wanted to be under the spotlight, to be seen. They needed to be out in the open. To stake their claim for all to see while pretending to be someone…

“I tried…" Enzo just tried to say, tried to stand up for himself as he shirked back from their father's fury. It only seemed to add fuel to the fire, however.

“Tried? Tried!" He shouted now, Mr. Kincaid needing his personal guard to help hold him up as he dropped his golf stick he'd been using as a cane. “You lost everything! Everything I strived and worked for underneath the noses of those… those… dogs!" He shouted before breaking down into a coughing fit.

The caddy came over with a heavy bag, several golf clubs sticking out the top of it. He set it down nearby as if seeming unconcerned about the group of lions out here. Dressed in a red and black checkered shirt, long black pants and nice shoes Sloan couldn't figure out why the tiger was here until their father pointed him out.

“Calling in others?" Their father shook with visible anger. “Bringing in outsiders in order to fill in our ranks? To help secure our territory after your blunder?" Mr. Kincaid cold gaze was locked onto the smaller lion who just looked away half turned as if wanting to tuck tail and run away but unable to do so. “Needing to bring in… in… men?"

Sloan couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at this.

Females in the lion pack were always the go getters, the hunters while the males, usually only one, remained at home as the fat cat in order to sire more children. An old, dated tradition that seemed to have fallen them over the seas themselves. To have men assist in the grunt work was beneath them, or he was sure that's how their father saw things.

Males were always only a risk. A risk to the hierarchy, a risk to the family… a risk of another male swooping in and stealing his position from underneath their nose. Not that Sloan minded someone swooping in beneath him, crawling under his desk and just…

The idea was short lived however as Enzo stood back up fully catching not only Sloan's but everyone's attention there. It was only a matter of time until, someone, stood up to their father. Most couldn't believe it was the youngest, smallest of them however who did.

“Well… I have good plans too!" Enzo snapped back. That took the older lion aback. If only for a single second. Mr. Kincaid laughed so hard he broke into another coughing fit. “Don't laugh! I do! I… I made contact with the other cats," he gestured at the tiger nearby. “I even began making deals with-with-with the other gangs! Brokering a deal for us," Enzo tried to continue before he was harshly cut off.

“A deal?" The older lion only laughed some more, coughing at the end and wiping the drool from his mouth on the back of his sleeve. “They come to us to make deals, not the other way around! You're fifteen years too young to try and play this roll." He added with a smug smile.

“It was my contacts that got us the intel to hit those wolves where they live!" Enzo shouted back, getting heated and worked up. His eyes were nearly bugging out his head and he had to take a moment to pull back, restraining himself as he quickly pulled something from his pocket and snorted it before anyone could stop him.

The lion convulsed before freezing up on the spot… then relaxing in front of their eyes. Sloan was sure it was some sort of catnip; a very, very strong version of it anyways. Laced with something from the look in those eyes.

“You can't even manage an outing without snorting something or other," Mr. Kincaid smiled though and Sloan could feel himself grow cold from it even underneath the beating sun above. “I'm glad you mentioned that though, Lorenzo…"

The younger lion fidgeted as if spiders were crawling up his arms, wiping the invisible arachnids off before looking at their father once more. Enzo seemed far more confident and gave his old man a toothy smile that pulled up his scarred, burned lips.

“The raids on those mutts, what did it bring us? Nothing. We lost good woman!" Mr. Kincaid practically roared, spittle flying in the air. It hit Enzo in the face but the younger lion didn't even flinch as he continued to just… smile, at his old man. “Waste of resources. Waste of personnel. A waste of time! He brought us nothing but loss."

Their father was beginning, about to go on another rant about the finances, most likely, when Enzo simply shrugged. The simplest of gestures caught everyone's attention. The disrespect of it, before their father, was in its own way jaw dropping.

Mr. Kincaid would have to make an example out of his own sun for his insubordinate behavior.

“So?" Enzo asked sounding far calmer than he had been before. That smug ass smile never left his face as he looked around at everyone there. “So what? We lost a few nobodies. We used some, what? Bullets? For what?" Enzo took a step forward and it was their father who pulled back this time. “For the sweetest of things. I did what you couldn't, old man…"

And Enzo leaned in nice and close, nipping at their father's face.

“I got revenge. Revenge for everything they did to us." Enzo smile grew, the maddening expression matching his burned scars. “And it felt good. It felt… so, very, good…" He muttered the words aloud, as if only to himself, as he touched the right side of his face with a hand.

“Enzo." Sloan began, taking a step forward trying to defuse the situation before something happened they would regret. Only for Lorrell to stop him. A single arm in front of the lion was all it took for him to falter in his step.

Even though Sloan wished he had done something different.

“I made the deals. I made the plans. I invited them all in. I got contacts now, see. I'm the big wig around here, not you." Enzo reached up and their father nearly flinched as the younger lion patted the side of his face. “It's just time, father."

“…for what?" Mr. Kincaid asked. He seemed far more fragile in that moment. His age showing before their very eyes as Enzo, his youngest son, only smiled in reply.

“For you to retire," And Enzo didn't even flinch as the mallet putter came down on the back of their father's skull.

The sound resounded around them. A horrifying cracking sound as blood splattered the grass as the older lion crumbled to the ground like an old bag of potatoes. Blood seeped from the back of his skull, staining the bright green grass around them.

No one said a word, no one reacted and even Mr. Kincaid's personal guard didn't lift a finger to assist him as the tiger came up from behind the older lion twitching on the ground. Lifting the mallet putter above his head, the tiger brought it numerous times.

Smack, Smack, Smack…

The sound was just as loud as the first. Seemingly echoing around the group as the father's body jerked and jumped with each swing before just… stopping. It stopped twitching, he stopped breathing and simply… stopped, never to move again as his blood watered the grass before them.

Sloan took a sharp breath between his teeth, turning away from the gruesome scene and nearly losing the contents of his lunch from the smell of iron in the air as everyone stood there watching. No one lifted a hand to help their father as the tiger lifted up the putter and wiped the end of it cleaned with a white cloth. A bored expression crossed the orange fur, white tipped face as the tiger offered up the very putter to Enzo as if passing the baton.

“Sir," the tiger just said with the faintest of smiles as if finding this whole thing… amusing, more than anything else.

With a snap of his fingers, Mr. Kincaid's body was hauled off by two of the guards who took him away in the very cart he was brought in on. Sloan never even got a chance to say goodbye to his father as he stood there and watched the scene unfold.

Enzo moved forward, gesturing, saying something or other. Talking about this tiger, talking about how he was brought in the “Fix things." That this hitman was their ace in the hole to clean up the mess left behind by their father; a mess Sloan could only think of before him. The red stained grass still fresh, and warm with their father's blood…

It had happened so fast. Sloan had wanted to talk to his father again. To try and… reconnect? He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything anymore.

He felt light headed, empty inside as if he were having an out of body experience. Just watching from above as everything unfolded before his eyes.

“What's the plan?" Lorrell was to ask, stepping forward to place a single golf ball down where their father had been brutally murdered. Sticking the peg in the bloodied grass before setting the pristine white ball on it, as if trying to keep it from soiling…

“The wolves are done for. My associate will make sure of that," Enzo just said with an even, calm tone that might as well have belonged to another feline. It didn't match the smaller male speaking it. “We have bigger fish to fry…"

And he laughed.

Laughed at the stupid joke he had made. As if he hadn't just killed their own father in cold blood.

They were talking. Sloan was sure. He couldn't recall a single thing else said that afternoon as he just tried to keep the contents of his stomach in his stomach. Unsure why… why he had wanted to come back to this life to begin with…

…

Sloan clung to Logan as he cried. Forcing the heavy dry heaves from his system as his fingers gripped and held the human in his arms, face pressed against him as he let it all out. The weight of what had happened overwhelming the large feline as it all begun to sink in.

There was no going back.

You can't turn the hands back on time. What had happened, happened and Sloan would have to live with it for the rest of his life. Just standing there, watching as they hauled away the man who had raised him to never see him again.

Mr. Kincaid, his father, hadn't been a kind or loving father. He was still his father and despite it all, Sloan had never once thought about taking his place as head of the family. Sloan was sure his father had known this and had purposefully sent him off to school to make sure Sloan couldn't be concerned about him, the family or his life...

“And now he's gone," Sloan choked out. Unable to say he was sorry for leaving. Unable to reconnect with the man or even get a chance to say goodbye to him. “Just like Jeron… I keep losing, everyone…" The lion grip tightened on the human in his arms there in his bedroom, the door still open to the empty apartment.

Logan wasn't sure what to say. He had a hundred questions to ask about it but knew this wasn't the time to be grilling the lion who wept, silently, against his body.

Never once did Sloan's nails spring out. Never once did the lion prick him with his sheathed daggers as he held him, held Logan… not wanting to lose anyone else in all this. Yet, without his claws… Logan could've slipped free, if he chose too. Escape the lion's hold over him. Sloan, who desperately needed him in this moment, was still giving him a chance to escape.

To leave.

And it was at that, that Logan wrapped his arms around the lion's head and held him close as Sloan wept silently for a man, a father he barely knew…

And would never be able to know.

"I can't lose you too..." And Logan wasn't sure what to say to that as he held the lion, who wept for a father would never be able to know, clung to him for dear life as if afraid if he slipped away too, there would be nothing holding him up in the days to come...