by K. M. Raya
A phone ringing ruins everything.
I curse myself inwardly. I knew I was on borrowed time, and yet I let myself get carried away. I feel her body stiffen beneath me and hate myself for what I’m about to do.
It's my cousin on the other end of this call, and if I ignore him, I’ll be in a world of hurt.
Leaning backwards, I rest on my heels, watching as she tries to catch her breath below me. Her eyes are suspicious and she has every right to be. I shouldn’t have kissed her like that.
Bringing my phone up to my ear, my eyes never leave hers, even as Micah’s words bark into my ear. He’s a crazy bastard and sometimes I feel like he takes after Giles even more than Cap does.
“Where the fuck are you?” he asks. I cringe, knowing he’s not a patient man.
“I got held up, but I'm almost there now—give me five,” I assure him but he knows it's bullshit.
“Just get here, Ellis, we have work to do.”
The phone goes dead.
‘Fuck.’
I knew my brief reprieve couldn’t last forever, but as I lift myself off of her, regret slithers through me. I don’t regret what we did—not in the literal sense. I regret the way things have to be. I go to leave, stepping off the bed and straightening my shirt, not saying a word when she calls out to me.
“Just like that?” she asks, disbelief lacing her tone.
I adjust my pants, sliding my cell back into the pocket before meeting her eyes. I force myself to seem indifferent while I’m anything but.
“What did you think this was, you tell me your life story and we go steady? Sorry babe, but I’ve gotta bounce.”
Her mouth drops in shock for a second.
Making my way to her bedroom door, I hold my breath, hoping she doesn’t reply.
Luck has never really been on my side.
“Fuck you, Ellis. This was a mistake—I never should have let you in my house,” she practically hisses.
Turning around with my hand clutching her doorknob, our eyes clash and the hollow darkness there steals my breath.
I hate it.
I hate what I’m doing to her.
I’m treating her the way her father treats her— like she’s expendable. But it has to be this way. Nothing can happen between the two of us, no matter how much I crave her. I’d let myself slip for a minute there, but it can’t ever happen again.
She needs to hate me.
“I’d already be gone if you’d stop talking,” I snap, inwardly kicking myself.
My brain chants at me to shut the fuck up . . . to go to her and beg her to forgive me. My heart wants me to crawl back in that bed and ignore Micah.
My heart can never win.
The stillness in her face at that moment makes me want to crawl into a hole. I turn from her and leave the room, not even bothering to close the door behind me.
The farther away from her I get, the more my heart shrivels away into that cold dark place I’d kept it in for so long now.
Chapter Seventeen
Angel
Tapping on my window wakes me from a fitful sleep.
It's been a week since Ellis left me without another word and I haven’t returned to school. It's not because I’m afraid of them, it’s because I’m afraid of myself. Around those boys I can’t seem to behave. I lose myself and become someone I don’t even recognize. Avoiding them for the time being will be good for me.
I slip out of my bed and creep towards my balcony. I have a sliding glass door there and can easily see the outline of a person, perched on the other side. They knock again, prompting me to grab my gun from my bedside drawer and make my way over. I flick the outside light on, only to see the very last person I’d been expecting on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Finley as I open the door and he pushes his way inside. He blows warm air into his palms before rubbing them together. It must be freezing out there.
“Well I don’t have your number, now do I? How else was I supposed to get you to talk to me?”
I scoff, peeking my head out and flitting my eyes from side to side, hoping nobody saw him scale my trellis.
“You do realize I have a front door right? It comes equipped with a handy little doorbell, try it next time,” I mutter as I walk to my armoire and yank on a black silk robe to cover my lack of clothing.
“And risk being spotted by your goons? Not likely,” he laughs bitterly.
Finley looks good tonight—polished as always even though it has to be close to two in the morning. His brown hair is windblown and tucked beneath his ears. A flush covers his cheeks and his lips are a little blue, but otherwise he appears in good spirits.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” I ask him, taking a seat on the edge of my bed and stuffing the gun back into the bedside drawer. I know the guys have told me that the Cassinis are bad news, but for some reason I just don't get the danger vibes from Finley.
He takes a seat at the chair that sits in front of my vanity mirror. His long legs stretch out before him, making him look almost comically tall on that small stool.
“Can’t I just drop in for a chat?” he spins the chair around in a circle playfully but I’m getting tired—too tired for his shit.
“Cut the crap, Cassini, what do you want?”
He stops spinning, facing me with a stony expression that doesn’t fit his pretty boy face.
“What have they told you about me?” he asks, catching me off guard.
Playing dumb, I ask, “Who?”
He smirks. “You know who. What lies have they been filling that beautiful brain of yours with, hmm?” He stands up, moving closer to the bed. “Don’t play coy with me, baby girl.”
“I really can’t get into this with you right now. Whatever beef you have with the Brothers is between you guys, you need to keep me out of it.” I warn him.
I hate being put on the spot.
He perches himself on the end of my bed, making my muscles coil and tense. I don’t know this guy very well and we’re alone in my house. Sure, there are men posted outside, but if they failed to catch a fully grown man sneaking into my bedroom at two in the morning, I really don't have any faith in their ability to save me from anything.
Idly, I consider putting a call into Papa about that.
Finley notices the change in my posture and rolls his eyes.
“Baby girl, let me get this out there before you have an aneurysm. I'm not interested in anything you have to offer. I’m as gay as they come,” he lays it out while my mouth hangs open in shock.
“You're shitting me . . .”
He grins, “Nope, afraid not. I like cock just as much as you do, just don’t go spreading that around. I told you out of courtesy after freaking you out like this, but it's not exactly public knowledge.”
Holding my hands up in surrender I assure him, “Dude, your sexual preference is none of my business, but uh, thanks for clarifying. I don’t really have a great . . . history with guy’s being in my bedroom—” I trail off, not wanting to elaborate, but something dark flickers over Finley's eyes.
“What are you talking about, did someone hurt you?” he prods. He looks like he’s ready to hit someone. His reaction is surprising.
I wave away his concern, “It was a long time ago, trust me. So back to you . . . what exactly is it you think they told me?”
He huffs, rolling his eyes and runs a hand through his messy dark hair.
“Shit, anything I guess. The most famous lie so far is the nasty rumor that I killed Ellis’ mom.” He points at me, “Which isn't true, I'll tell you that much right now.”
The guys have danced around this for a while now and it doesn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.
“They may have mentioned something along those lines. But if it's not true, then why do they believe it?
“Oh Angel, so naive . . .” he teases, shaking his head.
“I’m not naive, I just don’t understand. They must r
eally think you killed Charlotte. I saw it in Ellis’ eyes, he wants you dead. What could have put that idea in his head?” I ask him.
Finley moves up the bed, turning so that his back rests against the headboard next to mine. For some reason, his presence doesn’t threaten me. I feel strangely comfortable around him, despite the rumors. Even though I barely know him, I just can’t picture him as a murderer. Surely Ellis is mistaken.
“Long story, but the short of it is my father used to be partners with Giles Montgomery and Cole Faux down at the Black Building, have you heard of it?” he asks and I nod, letting him continue.
“They’d all been friends since grammar school but they had some sort of falling out around the time I graduated my senior year of highschool. It ripped this town in half. Those men were like uncles to me. That was three years ago, and I have no idea what happened, but about a week later, Charlotte was found dead in her car at the Faux estate. She had bruising on her neck, proving she’d been strangled to death, but whoever did it must have been wearing gloves. There were no fingerprints on anything.”
My heart squeezes in my chest, my mind drifting back to Ellis. That was only three years ago. How horrible had it been for him? His own mother strangled in her car . . . just a few yards away from the home he still lives in.
“Cole lost his mind when they found her. He blamed my dad for it, naturally. But dad’s alibi checked out and security footage showed him and my uncle at a restaurant that evening—clearing his name completely. After that, the guys who used to be my friends turned their backs on me, claiming I’d done my dad's dirty work and killed Charlotte myself.”
Finley's eyes look so sad. I had no idea he and the Brothers used to be close. I’d just assumed their families had some sort of rich person rivalry going on—never would I have suspected things to go this deep.
“If you and your dad had nothing to do with it, then who killed Ellis’ mom? I don’t get it, did she have enemies? Does Cole have enemies?” I ask.
None of it adds up.
Why would anybody want to murder a housewife?
He shakes his head, breathing in deeply.
“Fuck if I know, but it never mattered . . . Ellis and the guys think I killed her and covered it up for dad. Nothing I say will change their minds.”
“And what, you came here hoping I might be able to help?” I watch his face as his eyes flicker to mine guiltily. “That’s it isn’t it? You want me to help clear your name . . . why me? Why would I be able to help you?”
“I know who you are, Angel. I know who your father is. You have connections—resources that I don’t have. I’m begging you . . . please.”
I stare at him in bewilderment. Of all the requests . . .
“I want to help you, Fin, but I’m not sure I can, I have no clue where to even start. Also, my Papa’s men aren’t exactly on my personal payroll.” I tell him honestly.
I really do wish I could help him. We may have gotten off to a rocky beginning, but none of it was personal and I think we both know that.
“I just need someone on my side, that's all. I need someone on my side who has their ear.”
That makes me laugh out loud.
“Who do you think you're talking to? Those guys hate me, they’re more likely to accuse me of the murder than confide in me,” I can’t stop the giggles.
The thought of any one of them seeking me out for comfort is a fantasy.
“That's not true and you know it. I have people watching. Those guys follow you around like loyal puppies, always watching you—threatening any guy who even looks at you wrong.” He pauses when he sees the bafflement on my face.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
He looks dubious. “You're shitting me right? You haven't noticed the way the guys in this city avoid you like a bad plague? I’m gay as hell and even I can see that you're a beautiful girl . . . and just how many guys have approached you so far? Go ahead, I’ll wait.”
He scoots down, making himself comfortable as I gape at him.
Come to think of it, he’s absolutely right. Nobody talks to me here. Back in New York, I’d get propositioned almost daily. Now, I'm not conceited or anything, but I know I'm not fugly. Guys tend to notice me, but so far it's like I don’t even exist to the guys of Draven Prep.
Anger fills my whole body as the pieces click together.
“Bastardos . . .” I mutter, making Finley chuckle.
“You think this is funny? Those assholes don't even like me, they just like to fuck with me, ugh!”
Fin looks smug.
“Like I said—naive,” he teases, but I punch him lightly on the shoulder.
His face sobers.
“So will you help me?” he asks hopefully and I groan, slapping a hand to my forehead and dragging it down my face.
“If I say yes will you leave my room and go home?”
“I dunno, your bed is quite comfortable—”
I snap my eyes to him but he’s already leaping off the mattress.
“Thanks in advance, baby girl. I owe you one,” he says as he slides open my balcony door.
“You can at least use the fron—”
But he’s already gone.
Chapter Eighteen
Angel
A week goes by and I’m back at school on Monday.
This place is really starting to wear me down. I turn nineteen in a few more days, but I’m stuck here until graduation. Despite my need to up and leave this whole life behind, I have my heart set on accepting that diploma before I bounce. After that, this place and everyone in it can suck it. I’m legally an adult and I can do what I want when the time comes.
It's lunchtime and I’m sitting at my usual table with Beth, Kara and Les as they gossip about cheer practice and other things I tend to tune out. I love hanging with them, but sometimes I have a hard time really connecting. It's difficult for me to really immerse myself in their daily banter and conversations when I don't really have anything to contribute. Our lives are opposites in every way. Sometimes I actually find myself envying them and the simplicity of their existence. Sometimes I think I’d give anything to live just a single day as a normal teenage girl for once.
The doors to the cafeteria open and in walks Captain and Carter. Usually, Sunshine would be the first to draw my eye with all that glorious golden hair of his—especially after what happened between us the other day. But not today. All I can see is Cap, with his eye practically swollen shut and a large bandage holding his fingers together.
I grit my teeth and ball my fists tightly as anger surges through my body like a white hot flame. I know Giles did this to him. Captain limps ever so slightly but his face is as impassive as ever. His clothes are glaringly at odds with his health. That pressed shirt and tailored slacks don't hide what's beneath the finery.
“Would you stop staring already?” Beth murmurs under her breath, nudging my foot under the table.
I pry my eyes off of the blonde boy and meet her stare.
“None of this is okay, Beth. Someone needs to say something,” I tell her, and her eyes widen a fraction.
“That someone is not you. Stay out of Brotherhood business unless you want to get hurt. He won’t want your help anyways . . . trust me, many teachers have tried and failed. It's best to let them handle it alone.”
Kara and Les nod in agreement, though I can see traces of sadness and pity in their eyes. Everyone knows about Captain. It would be next to impossible to cover up wounds like that without missing school for months on end, but nobody says a goddamn word.
My appetite is gone.
Standing up from the table, I turn to leave when Beth grabs my sleeve.
“Don’t be stupid,” she warns and I just nod briskly before pulling away and dumping my tray in the trash.
✽✽✽
I can't bring myself to go to my last few classes and instead I take my time wandering the halls of this old school.
I’m so fucking worked up. Every
time I pass Captain in the halls I have to look away. Looking at him reminds me of days I’d rather go on forgetting. Being tutored by people in the Mafia isn’t all books and learning. I had my fair share of combat classes and self defense, enough to get my ass kicked a time or two. My childhood wasn’t an easy one and things only got worse after Sofia was sent away.
After everything happened with Paulo, Papa made sure my training was amped up a notch. I barely had a childhood after that and a part of my heart goes out to Captain and the other guys. Sometimes I can see the hopelessness in their eyes too. It’s all too familiar to me. Growing up with powerful fathers takes a toll.
After school I have nothing to do, so I content myself with walking around town, studying the neighborhood and enjoying the sea breeze that floats over the rolling hills.
I’ve had hours to wallow in my own anger and it passed as soon as I was free from the confines of that damn school. This place is doing strange things to me. I can feel myself being sucked into the toxic atmosphere here and just know I’ll end up regretting it in the end. I can’t let myself become attached to these people.
Especially these infuriating guys.
But my brain won't stop whirring. All I can think about are those bruises I saw on Captain’s face. Sure, he’s a cocky asshole, but nobody deserves to be manhandled like that—especially by their own parents.
Papa may not give any shits about me, but he’d never lay a finger on me. He’s old fashioned that way. Giles Montgomery is a vile man. It always baffles me to realize that it's the bad ones who end up owning the universe. It's very rare to see a benevolent millionaire. They never do make it to the top without spilling some blood on the way up there—but never their own.
Before I can tell myself to stop, I’m standing in his front yard. Captain’s car is in the driveway so I know he’s here. I feel stupid for showing up like this, but I can’t help it. I need to talk to him. After what I saw today, being alone is the last thing he needs. Now whether or not it's me he wants to talk to remains to be seen.
