Reign of Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #3)(77)

“More like Harley Quinn.”

Through his anger and the tension, he chuckles, dropping his head back against the pillow. A small grin forms on his lips, and though his eyes are still sad, it makes me smile back.

I move back to my own bed, finding Victoria’s blank stare on me. Slowly she shifts hers to Cap and then looks back down at her blanket before meeting mine again. She lifts her brows, smirking, going for playful but her concern is there.

“Always in the line of fire.”

“Eh.” I nod my head back and forth. “I mean, this time I was in the line of a busted ass pick-up truck, but tomato tomatoe, yeah?”

She chuckles, pushing to her feet and coming over to my bed. She drops on the end of it, staring at me.

“What?”

She glances at Captain, bringing her eyes back to me. Strain finds her forehead.

“Vee?”

She opens her mouth, closing it just as quick when the nurse walks in. The nurse who almost gets knocked to her ass when Royce rushes past her, and skids to a stop next to me.

His eyes fly over my face, and he grins, planting his arms on his hips. “Goddamn you, RaeRae.”

I give a single shoulder shrug. “I told you. Trouble finds me.”

He scoffs, leaning forward to grip my head gently, and kiss my hair. “You ain’t lying, girl.”

Rolland walks in next, concern etched in his brows, but he doesn’t speak, and Bass follows, staying posted half in and half out the door.

“I’m gonna need near her, to check her,” the nurse teases warmly, slipping between Royce and me. She gives a sad smile. “Hi.”

My eyes narrow when with each passing second, her features grow more tense.

She looks to my arms, then the screen, then the cords dangling off the bed. “You’ve unplugged. We need to get the IV back—”

“That’s not happening. I’m fine. No broken bones, some scrapes, no big deal.”

The woman gives a small nod. “Those things may be true, but that’s not why you’re in here. You passed out from exhaustion and dehydration, the crash only added to your weakened state.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Are you formally refusing treatment, at least as of right now?” she asks gently. “I’ll need to document if you are, good practice, remember?”

I shrug, nodding, avoiding the frowns directed at me.

“Can I ask everyone to step out a moment, I need to go over a few things with Mrs. Brayshaw privately.”

I wince at the name, dropping my eyes to my lap, but then I realize what she’s asked and my head snaps up. “No, they can stay.”

Her eyes widen. “Are you... sure? I’d advise they wait—”

“Stop questioning me.” My eyes shooting to Rolland as he quietly removes himself from the room on his own.

He’s learning.

Victoria scoots closer to me, her hand covering mine. “Raven,” she says quietly. “Make them leave or better yet, you walk out with her, since it seems you can. Just you and her.” Her eyes widen, and she nods.

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“Girl, you are out of line,” Royce snaps, glaring from her to me.

I look to the nurse, who gives a subtle shake of her head.

“Help me up, brother.”

My eyes move to Captain as he shifts in the bed, dropping his legs to one side.

Both Maddoc and Royce rush to him, standing close as he pushes to his feet and grips the rolling IV machine.

He starts for the door, and reluctantly, they follow.

Victoria stands when they exit, glancing back at me once more before leaving with them.

My eyes move back to the nurse. “There, I’m alone.”

She reaches up, turning back on the machine, and then reaches for all the little clips and monitors I took off. “May I put these back on?”

I drop back against the pillow slapping my arms out like an obnoxious asshole. “Whatever.”

“Raven—”

“Don’t,” I hiss, closing my eyes. “No talking, do what you need, give me whatever you want, but no talking.”



“I have something you guys need to see.”

All eyes fly to Bishop.

“Fuck you just say?” Royce creeps toward him.

Bishop doesn’t spare him a glance, his eyes moving to Rolland. “Leo and Vienna weren’t as na?ve as we thought.” He pulls a rolled-up paper from his pocket, holding it out to my dad. “I don’t know what they hoped to gain in attacking her, if anything, but I assume this” —he shakes the roll— “was intended for blackmail somewhere down the line.”

“What is that?” I ask, walking closer.

Our dad unrolls it, reading over the paperwork in his hand.

“Proof,” he says.

“Proof of what, exactly?” our dad asks him.

“Ravina Brayshaw didn’t run to run.” Bishop looks to me. “She ran because she was afraid, of Donley himself.”

“Surprised you didn’t give it straight to her,” Royce spits.

“Almost did.” Bishop shrugs. “But don’t wanna see her hurt worse.”

“How do we even know if this is true?” Royce shouts.