So, no. Sex wasn’t something I wanted.

For a long time I saw sex as a tool for manipulation, and I had no reason to use it. It wasn’t until I was desperate to erase what I knew sex to be, dirty and shameful, painful, that I was interested.

Crazy thing about all the shit popping up, my mom trading me for money in her pocket doesn’t surprise me in the least. There were tons of times I thought she would, and honestly, if it didn’t offend her when her men would make sleazy comments about me, she probably would have.

Or maybe not since I was technically already owned by another – bought by a rich man who posed as a commoner, who used to bring me ice cream and movies to keep me busy while he spent an hour in my mother’s room, supposedly talking about me. A man I knew to be good as far as good went in my world, who gave me my knife for protection before he was gone, only to make his way back into my life as my man’s dad eleven years later.

How much more twisted can this shit get?

With a sigh, I sit up and reach for the body wash, but the second I pop it open, my senses are assaulted with the overpowering aroma of coconut and something else as equally disgusting.

I quickly shift to my knees, open the shower door, and lean over the toilet.

My stomach is damn near empty, so liquids and dry heaving it is. A chill runs through my body as sweat beads form at the crown of my head.

Fuck!

I hate this. The shit Donley had Vienna inject me with is taking its day-after toll – one of the many reasons I touch nothing harder than the green.

As soon as I wipe my mouth, I submerge myself underwater and run my hands over my hair, using the bubbles in the water to wash my body off – thank hell the shampoo and conditioner were unscented.

I drag myself from the tub and dress as quick as I can without getting sick again, then drop onto the toilet to brush out my wet hair.

I feel like I got hit by a fucking truck. Still, conversations must be had today.

 

I swear to God you can hear the hard hit of our pulses echoing against the high ceiling and bouncing back, wrapping around our throats and cutting off our airways.

Give them Zoey instead.

What. The. Fuck.

My chest aches and I can’t even fucking force myself to look at my brother, but I do when he stumbles a bit, falling back and dropping to his ass on the leather ottoman.

His hands slide through his blond hair, coming back to drag down his face. His skin is pulled tight, hands still covering half his face as his tortured eyes hit mine.

My lungs fucking fold, not an ounce of oxygen left to feed my body.

Cap isn’t breathing either, his face starting to turn colors, and Royce cusses, quickly dropping in front of him.

He shakes his shoulders, but Cap never breaks my stare.

“Breathe, brother,” Royce tells him, his head snapping my way, worry in his eyes when Cap refuses.

Doubt he’s hearing Royce right now, he may not even be seeing me, even with his gaze locked on mine.

“Cap,” I rasp, and unsure if it was loud enough for him to hear, but suddenly his hands fall, his arms flopping to his sides as his chin meets his chest.

He knows.

He knows, never in a million years would we turn our backs on our niece, my brother’s daughter, for anything.

For anyone?

My chest stings. I’m pretty fucking sure a knife right through it would hurt less than the realization of what’s in front of me.

My baby... or his.

I drag my eyes back to my dad, who now sits forward in his chair, eyes taut and face pained.

“I’m sorry, son. I was hoping you were still simply my boys who would take my word as gold and let me make the move, then allow me to be here for you during the aftermath. I never wanted this to hang over your heads. This is not how it was supposed to be.”

“But this is what you planned when you brought her here.”

He hesitates, but only for a second before giving a curt nod.

“So why not take her straight to them?” I ask.

If he had, we wouldn’t know her as we do, wouldn’t care who she was or the reason behind any of this shit. It wouldn’t matter, Zoey wouldn’t be at risk. We wouldn’t be standing here cracking on the inside, facing decisions we could never make.

Acid lining my tongue as I say, “I wish you never dropped her here.”

“Maddoc!” Royce snaps. “The fuck, man?”

I ignore him. “What’s the reason behind all this? Why wasn’t she with Graven the second you found out she existed?”

“I was waiting, hoping Collins would find someone else and we’d be clear until the next generation came, worry about it then, bring her home without telling her who she was, watch out for her, offer her a place here, but then...” He trails off, looking toward Captain.

I follow his line of sight, finding Cap staring right at him.

“But then Zoey was born,” Cap rasps. “The first female Brayshaw in decades, or so they would have thought.”

“Yes, son,” our dad whispers. “Everything changed in that moment.”

“Tell me the fucking truth,” Cap speaks, but his words don’t match the defeat in his tone. “Did you do this? Did you have a hand in Mallory giving her away, hiding her from me? Are you the reason I almost lost my daughter completely?”

My head snaps toward our dad.

“No, son.” He shakes his head slowly. “I knew nothing about her until you hired our men to watch out for her. As soon as I learned, I brought in Maria. I made sure she was the one who would care for her. I knew she was the only person whom I could trust with my granddaughter, if not us or Maybell.”

Cap shoots to his feet. “Maria Vega, you know her? She’s good? She’s... she’s safe?”

“You had her checked out, have had her watched. You know this, Captain,” he tells him.

Cap slams his palm against his desk, dipping into his face. “I know what I’m told. I don’t know the truth. We know better than anyone, anything could happen behind closed doors.”

“If you really believed that, son, you never would have put her back in her car.”

“Say it,” Captain demands.

He relents. “She is safe, loved, and will be very much missed by that woman once we bring her home.”

“And when will that be?” Cap pushes.

Our dad winces, his eyes hitting mine briefly and I drop my chin to my chest before meeting Cap’s stare.

This is why the decorator thought she’d be preparing the room across from Captain’s for Zoey – it would be empty for her.

“Madman,” Royce whispers and Cap’s eyes tighten.

“No...” he whispers, shaking his head, eyes pleading and completely fucking wrecked.

He loves her like I do. They both do.

I give a small nod, gut twisted and tight. “She can come home when Raven is delivered.”

No one speaks for several minutes, but it’s the loudest silence we’ve ever suffered.

Our dad is the first to break it.

“Do you understand now, why she must go? Why I had to bring her here now? Why I could no longer protect her by keeping her away?” our dad asks.

Royce scoffs. “Man, don’t start with the protecting her bullshit. If you really cared, you’d have sent someone there to guard her.”