“I hate this,” he says on a shuttered whisper.

“I know.” I pause to look at Captain then meet Royce’s eyes again. “I’ll be back.”

“You better be.” He frowns. “Or we all die today.”

The elevator doors open, and I step onto the cement, my eyes finding Bass a few feet out, Victoria at his side. He slips a cigarette between his lips, nodding his chin as he brings his lighter up.

I glance the way he’s motioned and jerk to an immediate stop.

Rolland sits against the side wall, tie undone, head in his hands. Not one of his security around, his driver not perched near waiting.

It’s just him.

I walk over, stopping right in front of him, kicking his shoe when he doesn’t move a single muscle.

He jolts, glare flying to mine, only for panic to flare the second he sees me. He jumps to his feet. “Is he okay?”

I bite into my cheek, glaring at him. “Not yet, he’s not.”

His heavy inhale causes my chest to ache, even more so when his eyes morph into the ones I used to know, concern laced through them. For me. “Where are you going, Raven?”

“To make a point. To let them know I’ll fuck their world harder than they’ve fucked mine and without hesitation.”

His lips pinch and I know he wants to argue, but he keeps them locked tight, as he should.

“Go up.”

Rolland’s eyes slice to mine.

“Be there for your sons, especially the one on the verge of flipping out, he’s up there and feeling more alone than ever. Be a fucking dad and nothing else, for once. Stare at Captain and replay all the wrong decisions you made, but first I need something from you.”

“Anything,” he relents.

“I need to get in touch with the Riveras.”

“Gio?” he guesses, but I don’t bother confirming.

With his forehead drawn tight, he pulls a random card from his wallet and a pen from his dress shirt pocket, quickly scribbling a number on the back of it.

I stare at the number, then meet his eyes.

“He’ll come home, Raven. It might take time, but he will.” His tone is more hopeful than confident.

“What makes you say that?”

“He knows nothing else.”

“You’re wrong.” I shake my head, looking off. “He knows pain.” I force my eyes back to his. “And that’s enough to keep anyone away.”

I tilt my head, glancing up at the glass building, knowing eyes are on me even though I can’t see them. I give a nod, and then step back and Rolland grabs his suit jacket off the ground, moving toward the elevator as it begins to slide open.

“You can trust the others, too,” he says. “Trick, Alec, they’re good people. Honest, noble.”

“Trust only those who earn it,” I repeat the words of a Brayshaw.

I’d swear his lip twitches. “Smart girl.” With a deep inhale, he says, “You’re looking for answers.” My eyes move to his as he steps into the elevator. “Start with her.”

Rolland looks over my shoulder right as the door clicks shut, and then there I stand, staring at a reflection of myself, but movement behind me has my eyes lifting.

My hands fall to my sides as I slowly turn around.

Victoria.

Everyone here serves a purpose of some kind...

Her brown eyes intensify, flying between mine.

No...

“Raven...” Her voice echoes around me, bouncing off the wall, creating a deep ringing in my ears.

I step toward her.

She doesn’t cower.

“Raven.” Her hands lift.

Bass looks between us, his spine shooting straight.

He flicks his cigarette and takes quick steps toward her. Gripping her arm, he turns her to face him. “What’d you do?” he demands.

I reach them in the same second, my hand shooting out to clasp her throat and her head snaps my way, her fingers coming up to latch against my wrists. I squeeze, but she doesn’t fight me. She nods, accepting, which makes my breaths come in shorter spurts.

Fight me.

“I told you, you might hate me,” she gasps, her throat bobbing against my palm.

I blink rapidly to keep myself in check.

Maddoc is gone, Captain is hurt, my mother is dead.

Maddoc is gone.

I’m crumbling.

Bass lets her go and I get in her face, closing my fist as much as I can until not a sound can squeeze past her lips. “You. Are going. To fucking talk,” I force past clenched teeth, fighting the tremble threatening to take over every inch of me.

She tries to nod, eyes pleading, but not for me to release her, for me to believe in her.

I shove her away, and she starts coughing, her hand shooting up to rub her reddened skin, but I don’t give her the space to calm, I push her again, until her back slams against a parked car.

“Captain was shot,” I tell her. “That’s why he’s here, and by my own fucking mom. My mom who planted more seeds than I have time to grow. I’m out of time and out of choices.”

Alarm fills her eyes, but she blinks it away. “What did she tell you?”

“Not enough before she stopped breathing.”

She freezes, her eyes sliding between mine and Bass’.

“Talk.”

A tortured sigh leaves her. “I don’t want to tell you.”

“I don’t care. Talk.”

She glances at Bass as if she wants him to walk away, but he only leans back against a random van, crossing his arms and one leg over the other.

With a shake of her head, her stare moves back to me.

“I was a tool,” she starts after a minute of silence. “My role was always the same – the naïve little girl with stars in her eyes for the target of the night. A shoulder for them to boost themselves up on, not attached to their worlds, or so they thought. After a few drinks, they loved to tell me how brave they were, who they screwed over, and how easily it worked.”

“Dirty laundry.”

“At its filthiest,” she mumbles, her eyes focused over my shoulder. “Since alcohol was what we used to get them loose-lipped, Mero, that was his name, refused to touch it, but after a few years with me, he grew comfortable, less careful. He started having a few here and there.” Her eyes slide back to mine. “I had to play extra nice to get what I was looking for, but it worked. He practically sang when I stopped playing dead in his bed and pretended to be the girl he bargained for.”

Mero...

My mind spins trying to place the name.

She nods like she can read my mind. “Mero.” She repeats the name.

“Who is he?”

“The man this town erased – the fourth man in the yearbook photo.” Her eyes bounce between mine. “The man who gave a secret in exchange for me. The man your mom tracked down five years ago with a shoebox full of unopened envelopes.”

No...

“Envelopes full of what?” I rasp.

“Cash,” she whispers. “With a Brayshaw stamp sealing each one.”

My stomach muscles tighten. “Five years ago...”

She holds my eyes. “It’s how I found them, the house.”

Five years ago... in the dark...

“It’s how I found out about you. Who you were and what you were worth. Clearly, much more than me since the knowledge of your existence is what earned him his rag doll. Me.”