Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, #2)(22)

Captain chuckles, shoving him away.

“For real, though, brother.” Royce goes in for a bro hug and handshake. “We’ve known this whole time. Would have expected nothing less.”

Captain looks to me like he’s ashamed and I shake my head.

“Man, this is different, and you know it. There’re some things that don’t need to be said, Cap, and there’s nothing wrong with that. And the fact that you just came in here and told us, means now you have a reason to talk about it. We knew you would come straight to us if there was something needing said. Quit feeling fucking guilty about it.”

He nods, his eyes dropping to the floor, and when they pop up, they’re focused. Determined and a little amused.

His lips pinch to the side. “Mallory got roughed up.”

My forehead furrows.

Cap’s eyes flick to mine. “Seems she ran into a fist last night.”

Royce and my eyes jump to each other’s, quickly moving back to Captain.

The organ in my chest starts hammering. “Cap.”

“Raven rushed her, got in her face, smacked her around a bit. She went fucking easy from what I heard, but—”

“But why the fuck would she do that?” Royce rushes out.

“Exactly.” Cap nods.

I spin around, biting on the skin between my thumb and pointer finger.

What’s your game, baby?

With him, but hurting for us.

Giving us nothing but fighting for us.

For us.

I jerk my head, my chin low. They’re fucking right. “Why would she do that?”

My brothers and I look between each other, a small nod passing between us.

That’s the fucking question.

“Let’s go to practice, boys.” Royce grins, already pulling out his phone to make plans for tonight when we had agreed not to celebrate. “We need a venue.” “Yo, Buck!” He laughs into his phone as he heads outside. “It’s Royce.”

Cap’s eyes follow him out before he turns back to me. “Think he’s good?”

“You ever seen him care for anyone, Cap?” I ask him but keep my eyes on Royce who’s laughing on the phone in the driveway.

“Nobody but her. He liked having someone to talk to outside us. He felt comfortable being himself with her.”

I nod. “Pretty fucking sure she was the center of his world.”

“And then she was ripped away,” he finishes, then looks back to me. “But we’ll get her back.”

Damn straight we will.

“Come on, fuckers!” Royce shouts from the front. “Quicker we’re done the quicker night will come!”

We laugh and meet him in the car, but the mood shifts on the short drive to the park court knowing we’ll share it with a Graven today.

Like we figured he would be, Collins is already jogging the court in warm-up gear.

“We should run his ass over,” Royce grumbles. “Bet his knees have never hit gravel before. Pansy ass motherfucker.”

Cap turns off the engine and shifts toward me.

“What?” I snap.

“We don’t know what’s really going on between them two,” Cap worries. “He’s gonna fuck with your head, man.”

“Let him. Make him think he’s winning.” I turn my glare out the window. “I told you guys before, I’ll lose her to no one, now let’s go.”

Cap sighs. “We need to make sure someone mentions the party in front of him.”

“Already handled, brothaman.” Royce claps a hand on his shoulder. “Mac and Leo are on it.”

Walking toward the field, Collins pauses at the far end, eyeing us with his hands on his hips as he tries to catch his breath – Graven Prep clearly doesn’t work on cardio.

“‘Sup, bitch?” Royce grins at him, dropping his bag on the bench.

Collins rolls his shoulders and starts jogging again.

We take our time getting our shit out and switching into our street shoes.

Right when I stand back up, the rest of the team and Coach arrive.

Coach Brail eyes us. “Brayshaw, early as always.” His stare cuts to Collins, who makes his way toward us.

“Always, Coach.” I roll the ball in my hand, eyes on Graven.

“All right, we’re gonna get rained out, so a quick lap and then we’ll go straight into a scrimmage.”

The team waits for my lead, then follows us around the court, stopping in the center as Coach asked.

He separates us into more even teams, each a mix of starters and second string. When he adds Graven to a team, everyone takes a step back, every fucking eye landing on me.

Coach glares. “I said play,” he snaps.

Still, they wait.

I walk toward Graven, slow and fucking steady, and he squares his shoulders, a slight tip to his lips, but I’m a fuckin’ Wolf, I can smell his fear. Under that pasty ass skin and pretty-boy hair, he’s trembling like a bitch.

He thinks he’s showing strength, that his standing here puts us on edge and makes us and those around us see him as brave.

His fake ass, cocky attitude says a lot more than that to us, though.

He’s making a mistake and he’s too fucking dumb to realize it.

No Graven would set foot here like this, not unless they knew they had a safety halo hanging around their head, one we’d later use to noose their asses if and when needed.