Break Me (Brayshaw High #5)(107)

I stood there, right in front of her, looked her in her eyes and she trusted my word.

I brought her into this shit, said she could handle it. That she was strong enough.

She’s got survival skills—she found something to protect herself when she thought she was being attacked that morning on the bridge.

She’s aware—didn’t blindly drink the beer she’d left unattended, unaware I slipped a pill inside it but cautious just in case, She’s daring and quick—put a plan together on her own and took care of Enoch without help.

She’s smart—knew what was needed for Taylor and how to handle her with care.

She’s brave—willing to walk into a lion’s den today... trusting I would be there.

I should have been and thirty seconds before promised.

No matter fucking what, I should have been.

I thought hanging back, staying out of sight so we didn’t raise questions was the smooth move, the one that would keep his guard down—everyone knows when we arrive, the charge in the air shifts, and he would have felt it.

I’m a piece of shit.

I fuck up.

I wreck.

So, wreck I fucking will.

I’ll start with Coach Von’s face... and then move onto something much fuckin’ harder. More devastating.

I refuse to paint her world black when she’s only begun to see the shades of the summer sun.

It’s with that thought I burst wide, running in a curved circle to gain momentum.

I don’t slow, think, or pause. I throw my arm up, my body forward, and bust through the fucking window. I catch his wide eyes the split second before I’m through the glass, and that’s all I remember, ‘cause in that same moment, mine are drawn to a frozen Brielle, clutching the arm of her chair, her eyes tight and, rapidly blinking, and on me.

She jumps up and dashes for me, but she bumps into a desk and stumbles a bit, catching herself on the chair.

I briefly register Mac’s slow and cautious voice from the other side of the door, urging me to open it for him and the others.

I don’t.

I notice Coach Von’s shirt is unbuttoned, his belt undone, and everything around me burns black.

I hear faint screams, they may even be mine, but I can’t say for sure.

And right now, I couldn’t care fucking less, ‘cause Brielle is safe, but this bitch is still breathing, and I’m not okay with that.

I lunge for him.





Brielle





Royce’s eyes flash, blackness taking over, and it’s as if he leaves his body completely.

He’s raging, but his face is scarily blank as his hand shoots out to grip on to Coach Von’s shoulder, the other slamming into his stomach and knocking the air from his lungs.

Coach Von groans but doesn’t crumple and begins to straighten. “We were just—”

Royce’s palm darts up, cupping the back of his head and jerking it down. His knee slams into his ribs, sending him stumbling in the opposite direction.

Beads of sweat form along my neck when Coach Von growls angrily and begins reaching into his back pocket.

I dart forward, but arms wrap around me, halting my advance.

I think I scream. I don’t remember anyone else entering, but when I look over my shoulder, it’s Captain’s eyes I find.

Mine widen, relief mixed with fear swimming in my core. “Captain, please. Get him and let’s go.”

“Never going to happen.” His expression holds an apology, but his grip is tight and sure. “There is no stopping him right now.”

Damn it!

My chest pounds heavy, pressure threatening to close my throat and meeting my temples.

Royce wraps Coach Von’s tie around his neck and tugs, dragging him to his tiptoes before swinging him around and tossing him into the wall behind him. He doesn’t let him catch his breath, but lifts him and slams him on top of the desk, his back crashing down on the computer monitor.

Coach Von cries out, attempting to scurry away, but Royce leaps up onto the desktop.

Royce’s pulse throbs in his neck, the veins in his arms protruding, pounding heavily, matching the rhythm of mine. He swings his foot around, kicking the man square in the jaw, the crack of bone echoing around the room, and the light begins to dull.

Coach Von groans, hits the wall and glides down it, his body giving out on him, but the idiot dares to make a point. “You’re a fool if you think I’m the only one who wants her,” he pants in a low gurgle, swallowing and choking on his own blood. “That there is isn’t someone else out there waiting, watching.”

Royce screams like a madman and hops down right in front of him, shouts and drags him to his feet, forcing him to stand so he can get in his face. Blood trickles down the coach’s face, his eyes near swollen shut. Royce headbutts him, releasing him as he does and down he goes again “Oh my god.” I struggle to get free, everything around me now free of color and beginning to cloud. “Captain, please, let go. He’s going to kill him.”

“I know,” his voice is a gentle whisper.

He gives up and begins to beg, pleading for forgiveness that falls on deaf ears.

Royce spins, picks up a chair and slams it into the wall. He bends, grabbing a broken piece of wood he can use as a bat and swings it between his palm.