Griff From Bunk'd Novelas e Histórias

Then he looked at me, really looked at me. “You ever think maybe some wars just never end?” he asked quietly. “All the time,” I said. He nodded, eyes tired and old. “Then maybe the only thing left to do is pick what side you want to bleed for.” I didn’t have an answer. Maybe because I didn’t know which side was mine anymore. Before I could speak, my phone buzzed. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something made me check. A photo popped up. Griff was on the ground and there was blood everywhere. The clubhouse was behind him… burning.

“Okay. Well, you know where I am if you need to talk it out.” The last thing Quinn needed was a lecture, but then the anger drained away as he realized he was being an ass. Griff had been a friend and coworker for a long time. “I do. Thanks for having my back.” “Always. Now fuck off,” Griff said. “I’ve got an event to plan.” “Yeah, yeah. Thanks—” But Quinn was talking to empty air, as Griff had disconnected the call. “Love you too, asshole.” He felt more relieved about security plans, though. Griff had anticipated most of his questions and had a few more of his own.

In fact, nobody else aside from the woman was there! ‘The windows were closed a moment ago. Why are they open now?’ “Mr. Griff? Mr. Griff, where are you?” That night, the woman who seemed a little like Quinna looked for Griff butt naked for half an hour but to no avail. Meanwhile, after that half an hour had passed, Griff was now at an abandoned factory that had a coal mining machine being dismantled. Javier stood before Griff, who had been forcefully woken up with half a pail of water splashed at his face. He had a calm expression as he smoked a cigarette.

“Gimme your cell number right now, kitten. No more putting it off.” And she’d given it to him. Griff knew that it was a burner, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was that he had a direct line to her… that he could hear her voice whenever he wanted. Griff shook his head slowly now, still meeting his own eyes in the mirror. “You’re fucked, man,” he said aloud to the idiot in the mirror. “Totally fucking fucked.”

Still, I stood my ground; I didn’t move and couldn't even breathe. “Gritt, you know who it is?” I heard one of the men asked. “Of course,” Griffin replied, his tone carrying that sickly sweetness in it. “Maltideon fucking Barbie. I knew somehow fate would throw her back to me. Come out now, hot stuff. You’ve got three minutes.” His words came again, curling violently inside me. I pressed myself deeper into the leaves, body trembling. My breath came ragged and shaky. Please let this be a nightmare. Please let me wake up—

"Especially when they know they have unfinished business." The weight of her words pressed down on me, and I felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to flee. The comfort of “The Daily Grind” had evaporated, replaced by a stifling sense of unease. I glanced at Earnest, searching his face for reassurance, for the steady certainty I had come to rely on. He met my gaze, and I saw a flicker of concern there, yes, but also a new wariness, a subtle withdrawal. His thumb absentmindedly stroked the back of my hand, a gesture that should have been comforting, but instead felt like a distraction, a way to occupy himself while he processed the unsettling presence of Victoria. He was still here, still holding m

She nodded tersely, didn’t make eye contact. Luke paused, took in her ‘fuck off and die’ vibe, decided to totally ignore it. A woman this fucking stunning probably got lots of jerks hitting on her, and no doubt she threw up the bitch act to put them off. But Luke wasn’t put off so easy. He also wasn’t a jerk. “So, you guys here for breakfast?” Luke asked. “Yep.” Griff came over and sat at the bar, Selena trailing behind him. “And to tell you that I got the Broncos tickets for this Saturday, if you ain’t working.”

Instead I saw cold anger and maybe even hatred in his eyes. “I don’t know how I fucked up so badly,” I said to him. “Where were you Griffin?” he asked me. “Greenville,” I said. “What the fuck man,” he said. “I got a text saying that Damon was murdered not executed,” I said. “You got a text and you didn’t tell me!” he said angrily. “I broke into Chester’s house and found the documents proving it all. I waited, I was so angry so I started watching them. I killed Grant McClaren and left his body in his office for the Council to find, I tortured him first and he told me everything.”

Since he wasn’t panting or snarling, I couldn’t see why Beki thought there was a problem. Yawning, I shuffled to Griff’s side of the bed and poked my head through the curtains. Griff stood at the other end of the room by one of the windows with his head bowed, his gaze fixed on the screen of his mobile phone. Sunlight bathed the right side of his body and face, turning the ends of his hair a rich mahogany and his tanned skin a luscious shade of gold. My mate was naked, his muscular chest rising and falling as though he found whatever he was reading distressing.

A grungy high school drop-out with no future, no shortage of demons, and no ability to keep his own temper in check. People look at my brother like he’s prince charming, while cowering from me like I’m the monster that hides under their beds. What they tend to forget, though, is that monsters aren’t born. They’re created. And the same parents who molded Spencer into their perfect little golden boy are the ones who made me what I am. “The fuck you doing here, Spence?” I growl as I approach him, my lip curling back from my teeth in a sneer. His eyes come to mine, his mouth sliding into a mocking smirk as he greets me with a nod, like we’re old friends or some shit. “Conway.”