Simplify, right.

As if ‘abusive home’ and ‘absent parents’ even comes close.

I watch for a sign of a lie as I ask, “Do you have a real file on me, Rolland?”

He shakes his head. “Not for the lack of searching,” he admits. “You’re not in the system, Victoria. You don’t even have a birth certificate on file, it’s how I suspected there was more to you than you shared. Technically, you don’t exist, but we can change that, if you’d like.”

A long moment of silence stretches between us, and when he realizes I have no comment on his last statement, Rolland inhales deeply, dejection clear as crystal in his tone. “I knew the risk I was taking allowing you into the Bray house. You came as a secret, that meant you must have had more. I assume we’ve only brushed the surface.”

“You only learned what I’ve allowed you to, and nothing more,” I tell him bluntly, my eyes connecting with his and holding. “Many of the things I know have no weight on this place... but many do.”

There is so much the boys don’t know, things the Brayshaws likely thought they’d long buried, but that’s the thing about secrets, it takes two to have one.

Or so the naïve believe.

The only way to bury the truth is to bury the man, the manipulator, and the predecessor.

How they forget, I don’t know, but...

For every burning king, there’s a boy who rises from the ash.

That’s how kingdoms work.

That is the exact reason I haven’t dropped to my knees and let all my secrets pour from my mouth.

This family’s strength, while unwavering and unparalleled, wasn’t built on loyalty as most believe.

It was built on blood and betrayal.

My truths will hurt some, break many, and might just lead one Brayshaw to the grave, but greed is a cunning bastard, and I’m its newest victim.

I could leave and take my secrets with me, but I won’t.

I want in, and not just for Captain, for me, too.

I’ll tell them when they’re ready for more and let the consequences fall where they may.

I drop my head back. “Did your PI really find nothing on me?”

He fights a smirk. “Nothing. I had thought Mero died long ago, so I never would have thought to look for clues that could lead to him. They hid you well. Both my brother and your father.”

I nod. “Mero was careful, sure, but it was Donley who gets most of the credit. I would spot people trailing or watching us, and I knew who they were sent by. Mero knew too, but he didn’t care. To him it was like free security. He pretended never to notice, but he saw everything. Donley pretty much cleaned up any crumb he might have left behind. He allowed no room for chances.”

Rolland regards me a long moment. “There was a price.”

“There’s always a price, Rolland, and his was high. Wanna know what it was?”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“Raven’s life,” I rush out, having never shared this before, and a heavy ache twists in my ribs. “If Mero lost me, no matter how it happened, he would kill her. If I stayed his, stayed hidden, she got to live.”

Deep lines form at the edge of his eyes and he shifts his body to face me better. “Victoria—”

“The threat wasn’t even meant for me, but for Donley. What kind of girl would care to protect some random girl who shared her blood, right? After all, family ran deeper than blood...”

Rolland’s eyes narrow. “He shared that with you?”

“More like drilled it into me, made sure I’d never forget them, never turn my back on him for my father. Guess he had some fear I might care for the man.”

“Those words are sacred in my family.” Rolland’s lips press into a firm line.

I shrug, knowing full well the weight the Brayshaw sentiment holds on your soul, and refocus the conversation.

“Mero tossed out the threat on Raven’s life knowing Donley planned to leave Raven right where she was—the last thing he wanted was for her to end up here and people to find out what he had done, raped the virgin that was promised to his own successor out of greed and need for a male heir. He brought his own family down, but it took an eighteen-year-old, five-foot-three chick’s fearlessness for him to realize it.”

“He was a weak man in more ways than one,” Rolland studies me.

“I could have walked away,” I tell him. “So many times, I could have left, just… ran. It would have been so easy.”

“Yet you stayed with a monster.”

A sad scoff leaves me, and while I keep my head facing forward, I shift my eyes to Rolland. “To protect a sister I didn’t even know.”

“Why?”

“Because even though I’d never met her, never saw her, my gut told me her purpose was bigger than mine,” I answer instantly. “I was right.”

Rolland inhales as he stands, and when he offers me his hand, I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

He stands there, staring straight on with his shoulders high and eyes bright, a vibrant green like his only biological son.

“That is honor,” he says. “That is loyalty without purpose or personal gain. That, Victoria Vega, is Brayshaw.”

Warmth wrapped guilt starts under my ribs, slowly spreading throughout my chest as unease drives my eyes to a second floor of the Brayshaw Mansion, to the window that leads to a certain little girl’s room, and what do you know...

He’s watching.

Chapter 3

Captain

 

She releases my dad’s hand, her eyes remaining locked with mine.

Her existence is infuriating.

Intoxicating.

Fucking troubling.

I don’t know what it is or why it’s there, but there’s a fiery pull between us, one that’s been brewing since the beginning, and with her under the same roof as me now, I can only suspect it’ll grow.

My eyes narrow on their own accord and she tips her head, not willing to look away first.

I hate how my body senses hers, but worse, I hate what the little fact confirms.

She drives me fucking mad, but goddamn how mad I could drive her—

“Whatcha lookin’ at, Pacman?” Raven cuts into my thoughts.

I glare at the girl in our yard. “She looks nothing like you, polar opposite, in fact.”

I glance behind me, taking in Raven’s long, sleek, jet black hair with purple-colored strips, and stony gray eyes. Even her skin tone is different, a lighter, creaminess, a contrast of her curved, pink lips.

Victoria is more bronze-toned, a flawless summer tan she carries all year long, dark eyes and plumper lips, like she keeps them constantly pursed.

Their styles, though, are slightly similar—thick black liner stays on their eyes and they both sway toward a hood-like rocker chick with a wild side, but where Raven screams recklessness, Victoria’s straight cynicism.

Raven doesn’t think, she acts, and Victoria forever has something working through her mind.

Raven laughs. “That’s because I was cursed to look like my mom, may the devil keep her soul burning in Hell.”

I scoff, shifting to face her better.

It was only months ago she dumped her mother’s ashes in the creek out at our family cabin, giving the vile woman a familiar place to rest, even though Raven didn’t even think she deserved one.