“Baby girl.” He pushes closer. “You know nothin’ about my soul, and if you call that trouble, your little world here must be as lame as it looks.”

“If you’re not a fan of this little world.” I give a small shrug. “Go back to your own.”

He silently stares but there’s a question floating around in those dark eyes of his, one he refuses to ask.

He makes no move, so I add, “Seriously, you should go, at least off campus.”

“Rushin’ me, little Bishop?” he tsks. “Not a fan of quickies.”

I frown. “If one-liners like that are what the girls you spend your time with find cute or even a little bit appealing, then I feel bad for you.”

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?”

“Because that would mean you know nothing about actual effort, and that’s a shame. Someone with the world at their fingertips should be far more than a bag of jokes and heavy fists.”

The way he watches me is intense, it’s as if he’s trying to see inside my head, but what’s worse, it’s as if he can. As if he’s realizing all the things I wish he wouldn’t.

The things I don’t talk about or share.

Not that I have people lining up who care to know.

Not that I allow anyone close enough to.

His eyes narrow farther, and I go to step by him, but he slides with me.

A heavy sigh escapes me and I shake my head. “I need to go. I have class,” I stress, knowing the cost—literally—of being late, and the need to get away from him. Fast.

His glare is so heavy now, so calculating, I can hardly see the brown of his eyes. He doesn’t take his focus off of me as he pulls a rolled-up stack of twenties from his pocket and holds it up.

I glance from it to him. “What’s that for?”

He grips my hand, slaps it inside, and stalks off.

“Royce—”

“Take that to the teachers’ lounge,” he cuts me off in a tone void of emotion as he glances at me over his shoulder. “Might wanna be quick about it.”

Teachers’ lounge?

“For what?!”

My question goes unanswered as he disappears.

Curiosity is the only reason I turn on my heels and make my way to the main hall, which is on the complete other side of the school from where my next class is.

Ibuprofen will be my foot’s best friend tonight.

I step inside and George spots me right away, rushing over.

My shoulders fall.

Great!

So the jerk set me up to get in trouble?

“George, I...”

I what?

What can I even say?

The guy who slipped onto campus and went all Damon Salvatore, started whooping on people because of me is a stranger to me?

I don’t get a chance to say anything, though. George beats me to it.

“Ms. Bishop.” He grins, his eyes falling to the money in my palm. “That for me?”

My gaze drops to the wad of Ben Franklins. “Uh—”

I cut off when loud bangs sound against the large metal door of the teachers’ lounge.

George reaches for the cash, so I hand it over, and he quickly shoves it in his pocket. Tugging his keys from his belt loop, he slips one in the lock and smiles. “You might want to start walking away now, Ms. Bishop. Staff meeting gone wrong.” He chuckles.

I nod, slowly doing as he says, and then the click of the lock sounds, teacher after teacher piling out, heavy complaints falling from their lips.

“Whoa now. How the heck did you folks get locked in there?” George asks, meeting my eyes one last time for a small wink.

What... he locked them inside?

I spin around, quickly moving toward my next class, but as I grow closer, I realize Royce had it all covered from the start, and not for his benefit.

For mine.

I mean, in a weird, messed-up kind of way that also allowed him to do his thing, draw attention and get a read on my reality.

A laugh makes its way up my throat.

A good, true laugh.

Not loud or bubbling, but one that allows a little bit of light inside.

I should fear the airy sensation that’s evaded me for so long now, but instead I hold on to it.

Because while the sun and the moon light our lives with a single glance, to feel that light is rare, and something that can’t be robbed from you before it should.

Because a feeling comes from the inside, not the out.

Chapter 4

Royce

 

Blue.

No, not blue, teal.

Fuck, not teal...

A little deeper, a mix of both, but crisp and clear with an icy center.

Turquoise.

But what up with the swollen eyes and why’d her bitch cousin call her out like that?

She seemed like a tiny pushover, but then she straight pushed the cousin over.

Didn’t expect that from the tiny one.

“You good over there?”

My head snaps toward Mac and he chuckles. “Day dreamin’?”

“Bro, fuck you.”

He laughs harder, shaking his head. “For real, what’s up?”

I lick my lips, facing forward.

I don’t talk shit through with anyone but my brothers or Raven, but it’s just us here, so fuck it, yeah?

“The chick who showed up out there?”

He nods.

“That’s her cousin. Notice how she looks a helluva lot more like Bishop than the other one, pale as fuck, dark hair, problem with the world?”

“I did.” He shifts his body to face me better, fully aware there’s a lot more coming.

“Couple days before Bass moved into the group home, Brielle was sent out here, meaning she wasn’t a part of our world anymore. A week after that, he came asking for her file, offering to work for free for the first two years in our world if we handed it over and let him get rid of it.”

“Smart on his end.” He nods. “Got her out, waited, then asked knowing it would make no difference to you guys at that point.”

I lean back. “Exactly. And it didn’t. As far as we were concerned, we did our part, the girl was set for a better life than the one she had, so we handed him what he wanted. We might have even respected the prick’s loyalty to his sister for his willingness to have less if it meant doing what he thought was right for her, keep her safe and away, or what-the-fuck-ever.”

“And you still paid the guy ‘cause you wanted him to push himself.” He nods.

Exactly.

Mac gets it, he’s moving up in Brayshaw and learning the ins and outs, the strength of our pull in the circle around us.

I lay it all out since he’ll be our main man soon, even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“The thing about our files?” I shake my head. “They ain’t copies. They’re straight from the fucking county servers, deleted from record the second they touch our hands. Hospital visits, police reports, school fuck-ups. Poof, shit doesn’t exist, never happened.”

He studies me, slowly dropping back against the door. “And when the Bishops’ files came to you guys, you were only freshmen, so you took your dad’s word after a quick look inside. You didn’t read them.”

I nod. “Only read one, a report on assault charges against Bass to get an idea of how good his hands were.”