Cap and Royce start laughing when Maddoc hops out and rounds the front of the SUV, but cut it off quick when the back, passenger door flies open.

Royce slides out without a word, wearing a huge grin, but Maddoc’s only move is lifting his head to look at Cap, who then also hops out.

Once Royce is behind the wheel and Captain is seated beside him, Maddoc slides in next to me.

I shoot across the seat and reach for the handle but just before I can grip it, a large hand slips between my legs to grip my thigh and I’m yanked back.

With a shriek, I spin and shove my elbow into his neck, but just as quick, I’m maneuvered so I’m forced to straddle him, my hands now locked behind my back and the car starts moving again.

“Chill the fuck out,” he tells me, his voice sounding bored while I’m heated.

“Let me the fuck out.”

“No.”

“What in the hell is your issue?”

“Quit fucking talking.”

His uninterested tone is pissing me off. Especially since his actions tell me he’s pissed or annoyed or something.

“And if I don’t?” I question, popping a brow like a brat, trying to wiggle free from his hold.

His forearms quickly press down on my thighs to keep me from squirming around and I freeze realizing what I was doing.

And now, with his little move to keep himself from enjoying my ass moving against him, his mouth is damn close to my heaving chest.

He licks his lips, eyes forever hidden behind dark frames, and whispers, “I said stop fucking moving. That means, your hands, your ass, your mouth.” He pauses a moment. “I’d tell you to stop breathing just to keep your tits outta my face if I thought you could control it.”

I bow my back outta spite. “Better, big man?”

“You better watch it, Snow.”

“Or what?”

The guys in the front start to chuckle and when I attempt to glare their way one of Maddoc’s hands shoots up to keep my eyes on him alone, before clasping my arm again.

The car comes to a stop and both boys jump out, closing their doors behind them, leaving me and Maddoc alone in the back.

With a groan, I shake my head.

This is beyond ridiculous.

“What do you want? Let go of me.” I attempt yanking free again.

“No.”

“This ‘no’ shit is getting real old real fucking quick.”

“You’re testing my patience.”

“As if I care.”

Suddenly, he shifts us, pushing off the seat some, he brings my chest flush to his, locking his arms in place around me so I can’t lean away.

I pull my lips between my teeth, watching as his pulse hits against the tan skin of his neck.

“I don’t trust you,” he spits.

A laugh bubbles out of me. “I don’t need you to.”

He ignores me. “Why were you at that Graven Prep party?”

“I was bored.”

“And today, why were you with Collins?”

“How is any of this your business?” I struggle against him and his grip tightens.

“People think you’re with us. We can’t allow you to be seen with Graven assholes.”

“Allow.”

“Yeah, allow. This is Brayshaw’s town, our fucking town. You live at a Bray house, go to our school. You belong to us. Stay away from them.” His chest raises rapidly against me and I grow curious.

He licks his lips, his mouth taking on a firm line.

I lift my chin, quickly snatching his sunglasses between my teeth, yank them off and spit them to the side before he has a chance to grab them.

I lock my stare with his.

Caged and covered by a sheet of armor his green eyes turn the color of a night’s jungle right in front of me.

That’s when I notice the cut under his left eye. “The fight,” I remember, my eyes shifting back to his.

He says nothing, but when I slowly twist my hand, he lets it slip from his grip.

I bring the pad of my thumb up to swipe across the broken, purpled skin and the hand that still holds onto my other tightens. “Why’d you fight in the first place?”

“Because he sent the girl.”

“Why?”

“I said I don’t trust you.”

My lips twitch at that. “Right.”

He stares a moment before releasing my other hand and sitting back. “Get out.”

With a roll of my eyes, I move to push open the door as I awkwardly climb off of him. I glance around, finding we’re back at the group home, but before I can take a step out of the vehicle, Maddoc grabs my arm and whispers one last thing, “Stay away from Royce.”

A taunting smirk slowly finds my lips and I wink, earning a menacing scowl. “Sure thing, big man.”

With a peace sign thrown over my head, I walk toward the house.

I drop into the old wooden chair and pull out my binder. Maybell enforces this bogus ass group homework rule where we’re all required to sit around each other and get our work done. And lucky me, I’m stuck at the cards table with Victoria this week.

She side-eyes me several times before she turns her head to gain my attention fully.

“What?” I ask, not bothering to look at her.

“Do you even know the history with the Brayshaw boys or is that not necessary to push your thighs open?”

“Not necessary at all,” I respond, uninterested in her gossip session. Rumors are close to never true.

“If you don’t like people assuming you’re easy, maybe you should stop responding to things like you do.”

I slap my pencil on the table and look up at her. “I could swear up and down I wasn’t, argue with every person who accused and still get nowhere. I’m not going to waste my breath on judgy assholes. People are gonna believe what they want, period. No point in trying to change a perception that’s engraved already.”

“So you let everyone else win?”

“No. They lose, like you did just now.”

When her forehead creases I keep going.

“Your entire purpose with all that was to try and get a rise out of me. You wanted me to push or fight back and you didn’t get it. Therefore, I win.”

She rolls her eyes, going back to her work.

And just like I expected, she starts rambling not five minutes later.

“The boys aren’t actually brothers, but they might as well be. Were raised together since they were infants, by Maybell herself, on this property even.”

I try to keep writing but she hooked me, and her sneer tells me she knows it.

She glances around to make sure nobody is listening before turning back to me. “Their dads were all best friends, grew up together, same society and power bullshit – the Brays of their time. The moms, though, they were nomads. Not from any of the elite families. Money hungry whores maybe, who knows.” She gives a nasty grin. “You know all about that.”

“Fuck you. And what do you mean elite families?”

She gawks at me. “The Gravens and the Brayshaws, the founding families of this town.” Her brows lift and when I give a small shrug, she shakes her head. “Do you pay attention to anything around here?”

“I guess not. I just thought they hated each other. Fucked each other’s girls or something.” No need to mention what Vienna told me. She likely already knows.