He walks away.
Captain
I’m sitting on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees when my brothers walk into my room.
“Zoey fell asleep?” Royce drops his shoulders against the wall.
I nod, frowning at the floor. “Dad home?”
“Yup,” Maddoc answers.
Good.
I lift my head, locking eyes with Royce.
“I need a body tonight.”
His smirk is slow, his phone already in hand. “Warehouses?”
Maddoc nods with a frown. “The new inside spot’s all set up now, too. Raven’s been wanting to go check it out.”
“Fuck, bro. You sure you want her out there?” Royce’s eyes widen.
“What’s she gonna do,” Maddoc snaps. “Jump in the ring with my kid in her stomach?”
“She might.” He laughs. “She only needs a solid right hook.”
Maddoc reaches out, punching him in the arm, making Royce grin. “She’s good. We’ll have them clear a path, so she don’t get bumped and shit by the crowd walking through.”
“Fuck yes!” Raven comes around the corner right then, huge grin in place.
I chuckle, sitting back. “So we’re good, then?”
“Oh hell yeah. One Bray Girl buffet coming up.” Royce pauses a moment before adding with a hint of a grin, “Should we stick to brunettes?”
Raven and Maddoc chuckle, and I can’t help but join.
Fucker.
Chapter 6
Victoria
As if he knew exactly where I’d be, Captain’s glare finds me instantly, quickly traveling over my body as I lie here in the grass with my head at the edge of the flowers.
“What are you doing?” he questions.
I shrug against the ground. “Waiting for Monday.”
The corner of his mouth twists. “Why?”
“Because I hate being here like this.”
At least at the school I don’t have to hide anymore.
His eyes widen the slightest bit.
Why does that surprise him?
“If you hate it here, why the fuck are you?” he snaps.
With a sigh, I push to my feet so we’re standing face to face, but still a few feet apart.
“I said I hate being here like this, not that I don’t want to be, but don’t forget I was ‘ordered’ to stay.”
He pushes closer, so I square my shoulders.
He’s angry, but so am I.
Why won’t he ask me what he wants to know already?
“Yeah,” he rumbles. “And what if you weren’t? Would you have left?”
“Why ask if you don’t care, Cap?”
His lips clamp shut, the cords in his neck bulging as he watches me with hard, heated eyes.
Always so closed off.
I wish he’d scream and yell, demand or force me to do something I don’t want.
Anything to get him to surrender to whatever is going on inside him.
Maybe that’s what I have to do, piss him off, bring him to his breaking point.
Does he have a breaking point?
“I wouldn’t have left,” I admit and his eyes slim. “Even if you tried to make me.”
They narrow even more as he tries to gauge me. “You’d disobey a banishment from a Brayshaw?”
“Yes.”
“There’re punishments for that.”
“Not one worse than having to go when I want to stay.”
Another step closer.
“Stay where?” His chin lowers.
Mine raises.
“Stay here.”
“Why?”
“Because I belong.”
His knuckles come up, and I hold perfectly still as he brushes my hair from my face. “Belong... to who?”
A hushed chuckle escapes, and I shake my head, looking to the grass. “You want me to say it out loud and for what, so you can throw it in my face in some way?” My eyes pop back up to his. “I don’t think so. Only when you’re ready to hear it.”
Not until you’re brave enough to ask.
His entire face morphs, nothing but rage to be found as he encroaches. “You think I give a shit about anything that could possibly come from your mouth?” he questions, disgust tightening his words, mockery woven within them. “You’re nothing but an added figurine.”
“So play me like your favorite toy.”
“You couldn’t handle if I did.”
“There is nothing you could do that could cut deep enough to make me bleed. I’m hollow, Cap. Torn apart, depleted, and re-stitched with a whole lot of nothing.”
He’s slow in his movement, brushing his chest across mine as he lifts my chin. “How fun it will be to prove you wrong.” He steps around me. “Go inside, brush your hair, and be on the porch in fifteen minutes. We’re leaving and you’re coming.”
“Where?”
“Fourteen minutes.”
Ass.
A familiar heat burns against my skin, but I pretend not to notice for as long as my body allows, which happens to be no more than a minute or two.
I meet his eyes.
Captain gives no expression but pointedly looks in the direction I was staring, where Chloe and Mac sit chatting with Tisha, and back to me with a raised brow.
Of course, no words follow, so I look away.
He hasn’t said a single thing to me since we got here an hour ago, not that he’s spoken at all, but still.
He wants attention, he needs to give it. I’m not playing his staring games tonight.
I take a long drink of water, and stand, walking closer to the entrance of this place, and lean against the inner frame. There are crowds of people all around, from one end of the warehouses to the next.
Nothing but giant iron rods surround this place, large sheets of tin woven between them to keep those on the outside from peeking in—if they don’t want you to see, you never will. There are guards out front and scattered all around to make sure of it. Being on the outer edge of town, closest to nothing, it leaves no excuse for passersby who don’t belong having ‘just been in the area.’
It’s growing louder by the minute out there, several people now crowded around the smaller makeshift rings, watching the opening match while others wait by the larger one, securing their spots for the fight of the night.
A small smile finds the corner of my mouth as I glance around.
My kind, their kind, all together for some late-night debauchery, not that it’s any different than normal out here, but I haven’t had a night out or away in a long ass time. It’s rowdy and wild, yeah, but it’s a good ass place to chill out, people watch.
A great place to find leverage.
My features tighten at the thought.
That’s the kind of shit that got me into the trouble I’m currently in, but my brain won’t stop. It’s what I’m good at.
Movement to my right catches my eye, and I shift to find Royce stepping up.
He winks, but it’s ugly and malicious as he pushes the sliding sheet metal doors open all the way, allowing those outside to see into the newly remodeled building.
Only months ago, all that was in here were a couple chairs and crates lining the walls. After bets took place, the guy who used to run this place, Bass Bishop, would slip in here. Maybe to count or store the money, I don’t know, but it was a wasted space for sure—dust and cobwebs, unused.