by Tijan
It buzzed again.
I ignored it.
It started ringing, and I shifted my hand to my clutch and silenced it. I did it with as little movement as possible.
“Alex,” I urged. He had to keep going.
“Crew Princess. That’s you. You’re the glue.”
My eyebrows bunched. “What does that mean?”
“That party when everyone was arrested? They only wanted one person.”
His eyes were gleaming, suddenly sober, though I knew he wasn’t.
“They only wanted one person, but they couldn’t find you, so they took everyone else.”
“The District Weekend party? But—”
“Plan B.” He hiccupped, swinging the Jim Beam around before tipping back and taking a long drag. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he added, “That was plan B. Arrest everyone else, make ’em sign that sheet. The cameras were plan B, but you were plan A. You were first priority.”
“How do you…” My head was swimming. It wasn’t making sense, any of it. “How do you know this? Why did they want to arrest me?”
“So they could lock you up, hurt the crews. You stabbed Neeon. He got vengeful, started hating you, your crew. His daughter had a breakdown. She’s in some mental facility now. That added to Neeon’s anger, enough to make him motivated.” Alex started out hot, but slowed down, his words getting lost.
“Alex! Snap out of it. Tell me the rest.”
God, please. Tell me the rest.
His eyes blinked, bulged, and then settled back. “Yeah. Um...yeah.” He was thinking, remembering. “You’re the glue. You. Channing’s the king. You’re his sister. They wanted to hurt you, put you away, hurt your brother.” He stopped again, flinching from some invisible pain. “Hurt your dad.”
“What?” My dad?
“Red Demons took over in Frisco. They can’t sell in Frisco if the Demons are there.”
Who was they?
The Red Demons were a motorcycle club, and my brother had battled them not long ago. We’d been a part of it. Our dad joined their club, but he was in prison—had been this whole time. All of this was coming out of nowhere. I knew it had happened, but Channing protected Roussou. I never thought any of that life would come into school, into my school.
“I thought the documentary was about putting the spotlight on the crews?”
“Plan B. They want to wipe the crews out, get rid of them, bring in dealers and start selling here, the only place your brother isn’t policing ’cause he knows your crew is here, dogging it. Like I said, hurt you, hurt your brother, hurt your dad. It all spreads out. Your brother would be distracted, your dad too. They wouldn’t be focused on what was happening in your school, just focused on saving you, ’cause they both want you to have a future.”
He started to slump, his back hitting the wall, and down he went, all the way to the floor. He mumbled, his words slurring, “Drake’s their point guy. They brought him in, forced him in, and he knows all about it. His job? Make our crew go away, which he did. And his other job…” He looked up, opening his eyes with some effort. “You. Set you up.”
“Set me up?”
Alex nodded again, but his head hung lower, and when he didn’t look up again, I raced to him. “Alex!”
I shook him.
He didn’t move.
I jostled him.
Nothing.
“Alex!”
And then it happened.
What he’d been here to warn me about.
The doors burst open as flash bombs were thrown. Tear gas. Smoke filled the hallway, and I could hear their footsteps. It was a stampede.
I couldn’t move, but I had to.
They’d have night vision goggles.
But fuck it. I had to try.
I pushed off the wall, surging to my feet, and I kept my eyes closed. I moved across the hall, my arms stretched out, until I hit the opposite wall. It tore my skin, but I bit my lip, holding in the cry. They were coming in the doors, down the main hallway too. They were circling me, but there was a side door. It wasn’t far, and I just had to get there.
Everything inside of me was screaming to give in. Sit down. Wait.
I couldn’t do that.
Inch by inch, I moved along, feeling the wall until it gave way. My hands touched glass and moved down to the door handle.
Success!
I pushed on it. It was locked.
I wanted to cry out again, scream, but I kept it in. Rearing back, trying not to breathe in the smoke and gas, I threw my body at the door, kicking it with everything I had, and it opened. Then I was on my knees, outside, and I pulled in air until lights shone down on me.
Legs.
There were legs upon legs, lights shining behind them until one stepped forward. A woman with her gun drawn.
She came over, knelt down, and sheathed her gun. “Bren Monroe?”
Really? Could I lie at this point? Even try to pretend I wasn’t?
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have time because another cop came to the door. He spoke without emotion, like he’d just stepped on an ant.
“Body is Alex Ryerson.”
Body!
Body?!
“DOA?” she asked.
“It just happened,” he said.
“Resuscitation?”
“Unsuccessful.”
DOA.
Alex.
Dead on arrival. He was dead.
I couldn’t process that. We had saved his life months ago and now...
And then those cold eyes turned my way, and she pulled her hand from her side. She held a pair of zip ties.
“Bren Monroe, you are under arrest.”
Cross
The front door to the police station flew open.
I knew he was coming. I’d made the call, knowing this was no longer a fucking high school thing. Cops were involved, and that meant there were bigger fucking things in play, and I wasn’t messing around. Seeing Bren led to that squad car, her hands in zip ties, by some fucking stone-cold bitch was one of my nightmares come to life.
Fuck that.
I mean it.
Fuuuuck that.
I was done playing by the rules, playing nice, doing shit so the least amount of damage was inflicted. I was ready to throw a bomb, grab Bren, and haul ass after that.
Jordan and Zellman held me back. Race had gotten involved, and the three of them were still standing guard.
I. Was. Furious.
I was seeing red.
Blood.
I wanted to fucking taste it, and as soon as that door flew open, I was ready. I was more than ready.
Channing came in like a fucking lightning storm, not even wearing a shirt. That’s how fucking badass Bren’s brother was, and he was my goddamn salvation in that moment.
Scanning. Finding me. He pinned me in place and stalked toward me.
Everyone knew Channing was there. It was like a wave swept the building, and everyone came to attention. The cops behind their desks were watching, wariness building. It’d been there since they brought Bren in, since we’d stormed in, since I’d tried to deck the first cop who told me to “Take a seat.”
I was hauled back before I could make contact, but fuck that. I was tempted to get arrested, just so I could go back there and see Bren.
It was only Race telling me to chill out and that Bren was probably already in an interrogation room that penetrated. The only goddamn fucking thing.
I needed Bren. I needed to save her, whatever it fucking cost. I didn’t care. Me for her. I was ready to offer the switch, but Channing was here. He had pull. Or he did with the Roussou department.
His jaw was clenched, and rage simmered just under his surface. “Why the fuck are we in Fallen Crest? She was arrested at the school?”
I clipped a nod. That was all I could get out because the need to hurt someone raged in me. Seeing Channing, someone who loved her almost as much as I did, ready to do whatever he needed to do had
unleashed a fucking monster inside of me. I literally wanted to peel someone’s head off, and I had to force a calming breath. It wasn’t working.
Channing’s eyes narrowed. “Get a handle on yourself. You can’t help Bren if you’re like this.”
“Fucking easy for you to say,” I seethed. “You didn’t see her walked out to that cop car.”
Shit. The image was searing my mind again. I flinched, unable to unsee it. “They gassed her. They smoke bombed her. They went at her with SWAT, in SWAT gear, holding their fucking guns at her.” My voice rose. “They pointed their guns at her!”
Channing swore under his breath, then motioned for the door. “Take a walk. Tear something up. I don’t give a shit what you have to do, but do it. I need the Wolf Crew leader with a clear head in about an hour.”
“Why an hour?”
“Because they’re not going to let us get to her before that, and I have the cavalry coming in for this.”
He turned away and headed for the front desk like he was squaring off against the opposing team’s goalie, score was tied, and he was skating to win the gold medal. No. Not even that. He was heading for them like they were between him and his sister.
I felt a smidgen of pity… No, I didn’t. That was a goddamn lie, one I was trying to tell myself so I’d calm the fuck down, but it wasn’t working. I growled. I didn’t even realize it until Channing twisted back to look at me.
He scowled, snapping his fingers at Jordan and Zellman. “Get him out of here. He needs to calm down.”
They nodded, but Race was there before either of them could touch me.
He started to push me for the door, but I resisted, planting my feet.
“Cross. Come on.”
“We got him.”
Jordan and Zellman were here, but I still wasn’t fucking going. I couldn’t. Everything inside of me was screaming to stay, be here for Bren, just in case they walked her past the desk. I had to be here. I just had to be—but the guys had a different thought.
“Take him out,” Channing yelled. “Now!”
All three of them were on me, and I was up and in the air. Throwing myself backward, I clambered over Zellman, shoving off of Jordan’s shoulder, but then two more guys were there, grabbing me. They fucking carried me out. Twisting, wrenching, vowing I’d kick all their asses—they ignored me until we were back in the parking lot.
They set me on my feet, and Jordan grunted, “Hold him down until he can think clearly. He’s goddamn nuts right now.”
I waved my arms. Bren needed me. I had a primal need to be back in there, as close to her as I could. I was almost rabid. I couldn’t see straight. The air was humid, weighing me down. I had to get free. I had to fight bac—
“SETTLE THE FUCK DOWN!”
That was Jordan. Screaming in my face.
“Cross! Oh my God!”
That was Taz. My sister. Her voice got through, but I couldn’t stop. I just couldn’t.
“Holy fuck.”
Someone grunted in surprise. A car door slammed shut.
I was fighting. I didn’t care who I was hitting. I could taste tears, sweat, blood. Mine. Someone else’s. I. Did. Not. Care.
Bren was all that mattered.
Then footsteps pounded, and I was shoved down to the cement. A two-ton truck was on top of me, and I couldn’t move. There were hands on my arms and legs, pinning me down.
But
I
Was
Still
Fucking
Fighting!
My head scraped against the cement. More blood. It was the only thing in my nostrils now, the only thing I could smell.
“Shit,” someone breathed.
“Oh, Cross.” My sister. I recognized her voice. She was crying. “I got him. I got him. Let me…”
They shifted around. The feet blocking my vision moved, and Taz was there, kneeling down to look right at me.
“Cross.” Tears streamed down her face. Snot too. She wasn’t paying any attention. She was pale, so pale.
She was scared.
It started to sink in then.
My sister was scared. For me. Of me.
Because I was acting like a rabid animal.
“Cross,” she said softly, soothing me.
She reached out, slowly, until she had my hand in her grasp. She linked our fingers. And then she began to speak, but she didn’t get it.
I’d never felt this monster in me, but he was here. He was angry. He was threatened. He wasn’t human. That was me now, and I could still think, recognize what was happening, and I was scaring myself. But I needed to know Bren was okay. I couldn’t breathe. She was the only thing that would make him go away.
Taz didn’t know this. I couldn’t tell her because I couldn’t talk.
I had to—
“That’s it, brother,” she said, still soothing.
She took in a breath.
I felt myself doing the same, going with her. Syncing.
“Another.”
Together, we breathed.
In and out. Holding. Exhaling, still slowly.
And after a long while, I started to taste my fear. No one had told me that could happen. It was revolting, and my stomach cramped up in protest.
“Cross,” Taz whispered, squeezing my hand and pressing it to her cheek. “I need you to calm down. I’m scared too, but I need my brother. I need him. Remember when we were little? We’d lay like this, side by side, watching each other until one of us broke and started laughing. Let’s do it again. But let’s calm down. Okay? Just calm. That’s all.”
I couldn’t be calm.
She didn’t get it. No one was getting it.
Bren.
It was all about Bren.
Panic burned my chest, searing me.
“Cross. Please.” She was crying again.
I tried to shake my head. I tried to signal her, because I still couldn’t talk.
White-hot, blind panic was taking me over, and I began to fight again. I needed them off of me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t—I could only rage in my head, and they weren’t helping me.
“He’s scared.” Taz said it like she was just realizing something. She pushed to her feet. “Get off him. Get off him! He needs to move around. He needs it. I can feel it in him! Get OFF HIM NOW!”
Things began moving.
There was a sudden push down on me, and it was gone, but I still couldn’t move. Not at first.
I had to get my bearings.
Then I jerked upright and gasped for breath. Taz threw her arms around me, her head buried in my shoulder and neck.
“Please,” she murmured. “You gotta calm down. You gotta calm down.”
I moved my head up and down, or tried to.
She was still crying into me, and I lifted my hand. It was all bloodied, but I tried to pat her back. Feeling it, a whole new wave of sobs took her over.
“Babe.”
That was Race. He reached for her, trying to take her away from me, but I looked up with a warning in my eyes. Back off. Back off now.
Seeing it, he nodded and edged back a step. But he didn’t go far.
I could lift my arms now. The feeling had come back, and I wrapped both around her. Feeling the other arm, Taz broke down. She wasn’t trying to soothe me anymore. She was breaking down and cursing.
All my shit started to clear.
This was my sister, and she needed me. I began soothing her, comforting her.
I rested my head on her shoulder as she continued to sob.
“What the hell?” someone wondered.
I knew. I didn’t have to wonder. This was about my family, her family. We’d lost it, and I hadn’t been there for her. Fuck. Shit. Goddamn. I hadn’t been there for my sister.
“Taz, I’m so sorry.”
She curled into herself, forming a ball as her arms slid away from my neck.
I felt Race coming back, and I nodded this time. I looked up and saw
a cut on his face, blood running down his cheek. I winced because I knew I’d been the cause of that, but that was for later. He started to bend for her, but paused, waiting for me.
I nodded. “Yeah. She needs you now.”
His arms slid underneath her, and he picked her up, cradling her to his chest. I expected him to take her away, but he didn’t. He just sat down beside me, holding her, and she reached for me.
I took her hand, lacing our fingers, and she seemed to settle a little from the contact.
She had her head resting against his chest now.
“Sorry,” I told him.
He raised a shoulder. “Can’t say I wouldn’t lose it if it were Taz in there.”
True. Still, I should’ve had a better handle on myself.
I finally looked around, feeling my eyebrows rise.
Jordan, Zellman—and they weren’t alone. I knew some of the Normal guys had come out to help, but so had four members of Channing’s crew. Moose—the big fucker who’d been sitting on me. Seeing my glare, he just grinned. Congo, Lincoln, and Chad, the big red-headed asshole. I scowled at all of them, but the only one who reacted was Lincoln.
His face impassive, he said, “Relax. You were psychotic. Chan said to contain you, so we contained you.”
“Fuck off.” That prick had been part of trying to squash me. I didn’t give a shit about the semantics of it. My chest still felt it had been deflated inside of me.
He grinned, just like fucking Moose.
But then there was another surprise, because behind our crowd was another one. They were standing toward the end of the lot, and I couldn’t think of a reason they’d be here unless they’d been part of setting Bren up.
Shoving to my feet, I felt my blood spiking again.
“Hey, hey!” Jordan was in front of me. His hand against my chest. Z was right next to him.
“What the fuck are they doing here?”
Zeke Allen and his jerkoffs were down there, their bitch girls next to them, and I didn’t give a shit if they weren’t looking ready to fight. I was ready. I was more than ready, and they were the perfect target—until Blaise stepped out from behind them, a whole different look than the last time on his face.
