Reign of Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #3)(55)

I stare at the number, then meet his eyes.

“He’ll come home, Raven. It might take time, but he will.” His tone is more hopeful than confident.

“What makes you say that?”

“He knows nothing else.”

“You’re wrong.” I shake my head, looking off. “He knows pain.” I force my eyes back to his. “And that’s enough to keep anyone away.”

I tilt my head, glancing up at the glass building, knowing eyes are on me even though I can’t see them. I give a nod, and then step back and Rolland grabs his suit jacket off the ground, moving toward the elevator as it begins to slide open.

“You can trust the others, too,” he says. “Trick, Alec, they’re good people. Honest, noble.”

“Trust only those who earn it,” I repeat the words of a Brayshaw.

I’d swear his lip twitches. “Smart girl.” With a deep inhale, he says, “You’re looking for answers.” My eyes move to his as he steps into the elevator. “Start with her.”

Rolland looks over my shoulder right as the door clicks shut, and then there I stand, staring at a reflection of myself, but movement behind me has my eyes lifting.

My hands fall to my sides as I slowly turn around.

Victoria.

Everyone here serves a purpose of some kind...

Her brown eyes intensify, flying between mine.

No...

“Raven...” Her voice echoes around me, bouncing off the wall, creating a deep ringing in my ears.

I step toward her.

She doesn’t cower.

“Raven.” Her hands lift.

Bass looks between us, his spine shooting straight.

He flicks his cigarette and takes quick steps toward her. Gripping her arm, he turns her to face him. “What’d you do?” he demands.

I reach them in the same second, my hand shooting out to clasp her throat and her head snaps my way, her fingers coming up to latch against my wrists. I squeeze, but she doesn’t fight me. She nods, accepting, which makes my breaths come in shorter spurts.

Fight me.

“I told you, you might hate me,” she gasps, her throat bobbing against my palm.

I blink rapidly to keep myself in check.

Maddoc is gone, Captain is hurt, my mother is dead.

Maddoc is gone.

I’m crumbling.

Bass lets her go and I get in her face, closing my fist as much as I can until not a sound can squeeze past her lips. “You. Are going. To fucking talk,” I force past clenched teeth, fighting the tremble threatening to take over every inch of me.

She tries to nod, eyes pleading, but not for me to release her, for me to believe in her.

I shove her away, and she starts coughing, her hand shooting up to rub her reddened skin, but I don’t give her the space to calm, I push her again, until her back slams against a parked car.

“Captain was shot,” I tell her. “That’s why he’s here, and by my own fucking mom. My mom who planted more seeds than I have time to grow. I’m out of time and out of choices.”

Alarm fills her eyes, but she blinks it away. “What did she tell you?”

“Not enough before she stopped breathing.”

She freezes, her eyes sliding between mine and Bass’.

“Talk.”

A tortured sigh leaves her. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“I don’t care. Talk.”

She glances at Bass as if she wants him to walk away, but he only leans back against a random van, crossing his arms and one leg over the other.

With a shake of her head, her stare moves back to me.

“I was a tool,” she starts after a minute of silence. “My role was always the same – the na?ve little girl with stars in her eyes for the target of the night. A shoulder for them to boost themselves up on, not attached to their worlds, or so they thought. After a few drinks, they loved to tell me how brave they were, who they screwed over, and how easily it worked.”

“Dirty laundry.”

“At its filthiest,” she mumbles, her eyes focused over my shoulder. “Since alcohol was what we used to get them loose-lipped, Mero, that was his name, refused to touch it, but after a few years with me, he grew comfortable, less careful. He started having a few here and there.” Her eyes slide back to mine. “I had to play extra nice to get what I was looking for, but it worked. He practically sang when I stopped playing dead in his bed and pretended to be the girl he bargained for.”

Mero...

My mind spins trying to place the name.

She nods like she can read my mind. “Mero.” She repeats the name.

“Who is he?”

“The man this town erased – the fourth man in the yearbook photo.” Her eyes bounce between mine. “The man who gave a secret in exchange for me. The man your mom tracked down five years ago with a shoebox full of unopened envelopes.”

No...

“Envelopes full of what?” I rasp.

“Cash,” she whispers. “With a Brayshaw stamp sealing each one.”

My stomach muscles tighten. “Five years ago...”

She holds my eyes. “It’s how I found them, the house.”

Five years ago... in the dark...

“It’s how I found out about you. Who you were and what you were worth. Clearly, much more than me since the knowledge of your existence is what earned him his rag doll. Me.”