Revenge Is Another Word For Justice

The Start

"Get it, Grace! Quickly! Before your dad comes," Jace urges, whispering as loud as he dares. I fumble with the keys to dad's latest BMW, the make a loud sound when they clink against each other.

My palms slick with sweat quietly close the drawer to my dad's desk.

Jace is halfway out the door with a terrified expression on his face.

Well it was his idea in the first place to get the keys to father's car to sneak out to one of the highschool freshman's party that he somehow got invited to.

I don't know why they would invite a thirteen year old boy and his twelve year old friend.

He claims it was the only way to and I quote 'boost his popularity status'.

I grip the keys tight in my hand trying to constrict the area around them so it wouldn't make as much noise.

I grin as I realised I've manage to one up my father.

"Let's go." I start to stand up and see the relief on Jace's face only to be replaced a completely horrified look at the sound of two pairs of feet stomping up the hall in angry footsteps.

I freeze unsure of how react, because I'm at the back of his office and won't have enough time to make it to the door in time.

Jace looks at me with an expression full of remorse as he dashes away silently.

Bastard.

My eyes go wide as I remember the wooden cabinet that is on the left wall two metres away from me.

I sprint to it open the doors, my hands latching onto the wooden handles and pull myself in as they enter the room.

I stop breathing as I realise the cabinet door didn't close all the way and is about three centimetres wide.

My hands shake from the effort to calm my heart and breathe into soft inconspicuous pants.

Right after the door clicks shut they men start talking.

"State your business, Forsaken. I want to know why you and your men were on our grounds," my father says unemotionally.

I tip the shutters the slightest bit so I can see through.

My father stands with his back against his desk with what appears a bored expression and another man I've never seen before with a brutal scar crossing one side of his face to the other standing in front of him.

"I've come to give you a proposition. Why don't you sit down so we can discuss this properly," the man says, gesturing to his desk chair.

There's a slash of anger leaks onto my father's face before it's replaced with his cool facade.

"If that was true why didn't you formally extend it, David," My father says, his voice filled with annoyance, but nonetheless goes behind his desk to sit down.

I slide back further into the cabinet realising that if he glanced where I was he would see me.

His eyes glance toward the seat in front of him pointedly and the man sits down, nonchalance radiating off him.

"Because my proposition is the kind that needs to be said vocally and physically," the scarred man -David- says cockily.

My dad raises his eyebrow at this but other wises keeps quiet.

David's phone rings making an eerie sound in the quiet stillness.

"May I . . . ?" He asks.