She chuckles, wiping her hands.

A train starts by right then and we shift to look at it.

“Where’d the boys go again?”

To visit Zoey, but I can’t say that to her, so I give a look that says don’t ask so I don’t have to lie.

She changes the subject easy enough and we spend the rest of the day swapping stories about the funny shit we’ve seen and anything else we can think of that’s worth a solid laugh.

It’s a less than shitty day.

This is the worst day I’ve had since I forced myself to walk back into Brayshaw high, all twisted and fucked and wrong in every way.

Raven at Cap’s side, the Graven bitch at mine. Not that I bother talking to her, looking at her, or acknowledging her presence at all. She couldn’t care less, though. All she wanted in return for her few days spent was for word to get back to Graven Prep of how she sat comfortably at the Brayshaw table. Doubt she was any kind of comfortable, but it didn’t matter, it was all for show.

Shit, my entire life, my brothers, and my girls, is nothing but a fucking show right now. One I was done playing a role in, so I stopped fucking going. Again.

Now, here I am, wanting to enjoy my niece like my brothers are, but finding every excuse I can to walk away.

First it was to check the electrical fence, next to walk the property line and make sure there were no signs of forced entry or prep for it. After that, I went inside and checked all the windows, reset the alarm system and looked in the attic.

I couldn’t fucking think of anything else, so now my face is in my phone, but only for a second before little feet land in front of mine, big blue eyes looking up at me.

“Cheese!” she says, smiling, staring at my phone.

A laugh leaves me, and I take a small step back and take her picture like she wanted.

“I wanna see!” She reaches for it, so I bend down and turn the screen toward her.

She laughs at herself, pulls the phone from my hand, and then drops onto my bent knee.

I quickly adjust my balance so we don’t fall back, and her feet start to swing in front of me. She pushes a bunch of buttons, but when nothing happens, she hands it back and stands.

“Hu-mon!” she says, waving over her shoulder as she makes her way back to Captain and Royce, both who stare at me from only feet away.

I take a step forward, only to freeze the second Cap bends down to pick her up and hugs her close.

My mind places Raven at his side, his smile on her, and Zoey’s hand connected to them both.

I turn, get in my SUV and go.

This is why I drove myself today.

After a quick stop at the house, I pull up in front of the large gate of the warehouses and wait for it to be pushed open. I slowly back in, stopping when the head of my vehicle is right at the line. This way, neither Cap or Royce’s can fit behind me. Not that they’ll be coming.

Mac steps up, nodding his head with a frown so I push my door open, pulling the bottles from the passenger seat and waving them at him.

With a small chuckle, he shakes his head moving aside so I can step out.

I hit the button on my key fob and the back opens.

We both drop down, and I waste no time popping it open and take a few shots straight from the bottle.

I pass it to Mac as he says, “Guessing you being here without your brothers means they don’t know you’re here?”

“Nope.” I look out over the crowd.

They’re prepping for the fights, placing bets, and getting fucked up while doing it.

I look to the building at the edge of the property. “Get someone in there, gut the fucking thing and deck it out. Make it a place we can kick back, but out of sight. Put a room in there, too.”

Mac nods, pulling his phone out. “On it.”

I take another drink, shaking my head out when this one burns on its way down. “Who you got making the cards tonight?”

“Bass has it all handled. We send him names, he sends us the setup. Signs off on everything.”

I glare at the people partying, having fucking fun.

Bishop should be focused on one thing and one thing only, keeping his eyes glued to Raven.

I take another shot, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “Fight of the night, change it. I want in.”

My head snaps to Mac when he doesn’t say anything.

He eyes me a second but nods and walks off.

Every few minutes, more and more people file through the gates and soon the place is packed, security locked down and the music is cranked up. The alcohol has kicked in and my blood is running warm.

The crowd begins to gather in the back as the first few fights start, so I kick off the bumper and pull my shirt over my head. My hand subconsciously rubs across my tattoo, but the second I realize it I rip it away.

Fuck.

I run my hand down my face. I’m fucked up, and it’s having the opposite effect I want.

I need a blank fucking mind, I want my head and the organ in my chest to numb like my body. How is it I feel no physical pain, but on the inside it’s like someone’s taking a razor to me, slowly, methodically slicing across every fucking inch, leaving not a centimeter untouched, unmarked, unfucking punished.

That’s what this is, the sting in my gut.

My bitter and cruel reward.

Give away all you got, die with a beating heart.

Keep it, live with a heavy one.

I gave her away, and now I’m a walking fucking zombie.

Mac comes back, ready to tape my knuckles, but I shake him off, take one last shot for fuck-its sake, and move for the edge of the largest ring.

I stand there, swaying on my feet a bit, not moving from the front post as the fight ends with a quick knock out, and the next begins.

The smaller cards around us are over now, too, so the crowd here grows, wider and wider, deeper. Louder.

And me, I grow drunker, my body heavier, but I feel light as a fucking feather.

Dante, our crowd feeder, puts his megaphone at his side, and steps over to me. He slaps me on the back, his eyes on the two in the center, dancing around each other.

“What’s good, Brayshaw?”

I shake my head. “Shit,” I slur. “Ready to get in there.”

He nods. “Guy wants to know if he’s got a pass tonight or what you need from him?”

“I’ll never come in here looking for a fucking ego boost, D. Don’t need one. Tell him to go hard.” I look to him. “Tell him not to stop.”

Dante’s head pulls back slightly, but he nods, hits my back again, then swivels around the circle again, yelling into his megaphone for the two in the center to stop playing footsy or take it to the church.

Not sure how long their fight takes, or when I stepped to the center of the ring, but shouts echo in my ears and then a fist in my face.

I stumble back, a smile finding my lips and I right myself.

I throw my hands out, taunting the guy with my fingers.

Closer, bitch.

Another hit to my head, but I manage to shuffle my feet to stay steady. I give a hard blink, and the gorilla motherfucker comes into view, so I swing, hitting him in the ribs, only to catch a knee to mine.

I laugh, spitting what must be blood from my mouth and go in again, but suddenly I’m staring at the fucking sky, flat on my back and weight drops on top of me.

My body jolts with each hit, but I keep grinning.

When I laugh, the dude’s head comes down on mine.