Reign of Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #3)(53)

I lean forward, laying my forehead on his lifeless hand.

Royce’s finds my lower back, and then his head joins mine.

My eyes close, my favorite shade of green flashing behind them before everything fades away and all that’s left is an empty pit of darkness, the universe’s sick way of saying not even in your dreams can you have him.

I crash.



The early morning sun shines through the window when my eyes open and I push myself straight in my chair.

Royce’s hand grips my thigh and I look to him.

“He hasn’t woken up yet, but they think he will soon,” he tells me.

I glance behind me to find Victoria sitting on the little couch, staring right at me, while Bass stands at the edge of the door, just in case.

From there, the days are repeated. One turns to two, then six, and before we know, fourteen days passed and we’re still here.

They removed the ventilator on the second day, and Captain started to stir on the third, but he’s yet to stay awake longer than five minutes. He looks around, groans here and there. The nurse was able to get the doctor in quick enough for him to do his doctor shit once, flash some lights in his eyes and check his pupils, told him how long he’d been here, but Captain fell back asleep before he was able to talk to him about his injuries.

Maddoc is still nowhere to be found despite the army the Brayshaws have out looking, and no one has said a word regarding the whereabouts of my mother’s rotting corpse. Rolland calls Royce several times a day, and Mac says Collins has been sniffing around in our absence.

I turn back to Captain right as the nurse steps in with a small bow.

“He’s still so pale,” I rasp, running my fingers along the stark white sheets, pausing before my hand meets his. “Why?”

“He lost a lot of blood, had to have a transfusion, and his body is still recovering, rebuilding strength and coming down from the shock,” she says quietly as she pushes buttons on the screen beside him. “His color will come back soon, more and more each time he wakes.” She offers a small smile when I glance to her. “Your husband is strong.” I tense but she doesn’t catch it. “He was fighting to wake before surgery began. It took a lot to put him under, that’s why it’s taking him longer to come to fully.”

“He has a lot to live for.”

She gives a small wink. “More than he realizes.”

I frown but then a thought hits. “Wait... his blood type.” My brows lower. “He’s mentioned it was rare.”

“Very,” she agrees, grabbing her clipboard and turning to me. “Luckily, everything on this floor is designated for Brayshaw and whom they, whom you, allow. We have all five of your blood types in stock, just in case.”

Five.

My eyes slice to Royce who jerks his chin in a nod. They know about Zoey here, but...

“Where did mine come from?”

She gives a tight smile, her age showing around her eyes when she does. “I drew every blood bag we have in our storage myself. Every bag but yours. Yours were delivered, and then tested for security reasons. They were cleared and stored following the result.”

“Delivered by who?”

“Estella Graven.”

“Collins’ mom,” I whisper, cutting a quick glance from Royce to Bass.

Makes sense I guess, she’s their maid, likely runs in circles doing whatever the hell they need, but wait. “When, exactly, did the blood bags get delivered?”

She pauses to think, then turns to her rolling computer. “Let’s see,” she muses, pushing some buttons. “Almost two months ago.”

Right when we signed away our lives.

“Go,” Royce tells her.

She nods and walks out as I bury my face in my hands trying to process.

“Raven,” Royce edges.

“He went to her,” I whisper.

“Raven.”

My eyes hit his.

“Donley went to her, or he had someone.”

“Maybe it’s an age-old thing, something all the families do?” Royce suggests, but tension lines his brows.

I push to my feet, shaking my head. “But... he’d have to know where to find her to get it.” My eyes find his.

Did he know where she was all along?

Royce shifts to the edge of the couch not following.

I lick my lips looking between the three of them. My mother’s glossy grey eyes flash before mine. I give a hard blink to erase it. “She said she wouldn’t let them have another piece of her.”

“What... you?” Royce whispers.

I shrug, but it takes effort, my muscles are tense, my stomach queasy. I swallow past the bile fighting its way up.

“But they didn’t have her.” His brows drop low, eyes coming back to mine. “Right?”

Sweat builds across my upper lip and I blow air across it, fanning myself in an attempt to cool my body temperature.

I vaguely register Bass asking someone for a cool rag before the chilled item touches my skin.

I open my eyes, finding his narrowed on me. “Breathe through your nose.”

“Back the fuck up, man!” Royce shoves at him, taking his place. “I fucking got her.” He glowers.

Bass doesn’t fight him on it and moves for his place at the door.