“You expect us to let that little bitch run in our halls?” Royce questions. “Run on our fucking court?”

“Yes,” our dad’s answer is instant, but he pauses a moment before adding, “Make no mistake, Collins Graven has changed the game. I’m afraid it’s not about you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Royce asks, his eyes hitting mine.

Captain’s features grow dark and he slowly looks between the two of us. “Raven.”

Why would he go after her other than to get to us?

“Boys,” our dad stresses. “Do not lose her to them.”

“She’s not exactly easy to control,” Captain barks.

“And she just played us, could have been this entire time. We can’t trust her,” Royce spits. “She’s a liability at this point.”

There’s a deep sigh through the phone and then, “Do what you must, sons. Hold tight. Everything is in the works.”

The line goes dead.

“The fuck does that mean?” Royce hits the seat and drops back against his own.

“I don’t know.” Captain puts the SUV in drive and we’re back on the road in seconds. “Guess we’ll find out.”

I turn to look out the window.

If she thinks she can fuck us over, she’s got another thing coming. They both do.

She wants to fuck with my head? It’s worked.

She wants to prove a point? She’s done it.

She thinks I’ll back down? She’s fucking wrong.

My jaw clenches, a heated poison burning in my veins at the thought of her with him.

Don’t lose her to them, he said.

I’ll lose her to no one.

Raven Carver is mine whether she wants to be now or not. Period.

She wants to pretend she doesn’t see me the same, I’ll force her fucking hand, in time. Problem is, I’m far from patient.

Go on, play your games, baby. I’ve got more moves than you can handle.

“Don’t look so glum, Rae.”

“Fuck you, Collins.”

“Begging again? So soon?” He stuffs his phone in his pocket. “It’s only been two days since you fucked up their world on their own turf, sweetness.”

“You’re a fucking fool.”

“But I’m your fool, right?” He laughs and drops down across from me. “Great job, by the way, not sure I told you that yet. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t so sure you’d follow through.”

“I said I would.”

“People say a lot of things, but you know that.” He grins and I want to slap it off his face. “You see how quick they gave up on you? Bet you didn’t expect that. You probably thought they’d tear you right back, right away, yet here you sit, wearing the same shit you did two days ago and still ... no Brayshaw to the rescue. Not even one out of three.”

I clench my teeth as discreetly as possible.

I don’t know what I expected, but I won’t show this chump my regret or the pathetic ache his words cause. Not that he’d read it right, he’s too blinded by his need to win a war he’s nowhere near equipped for. I’m almost curious if he wants it or if it’s simply because he craves notoriety.

Or maybe it’s acceptance?

Makes me wonder what he saw and heard as a kid.

I break our stare off and glance around the room.

This is a big ass house both empty and cold, more of a showroom of sorts. No color or real sign of living other than the ring around the coaster on the coffee table. Stone colored statues and ugly ass art fills the place.

Maids likely come in each day and out each night, cleaning up after the parties he throws almost on the daily – his need to have people close – and leaving him food to reheat in the fridge.

Maddoc had said, other than Collins, it was only his mother and grandfather, the last Gravens standing outside their men around town, but there’s no sign of them anywhere.

“Your dad really dead?”

His glass tumbler freezes at his lips – yeah, he’s that guy, does the whole ritzy shit, bourbon on the rocks like a typical rich boy trying to play like his pops. Sipping on it like a bitch.

He can’t shoot a shot like mine do.

Another twinge hits in my chest at the thought, but I shift my body to hide it.

Collins sets his glass beside him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, eyeing me.

He’s far from a bad looking guy, I’ve admitted this before. He’s found attractive to even the pickiest of females, I’m sure, with the typical preppy boy look – too perfect hair and textbook teeth. His face is clean and sharp, never a sign of yesterday’s shave or shadow even. No small cuts or scars to be found – bet he uses wrinkle cream already, too. Of course, he’s also fit like a basketball player, trim frame and decent height, sculpted to ego feeding perfection.

“I assume you know the story of how Rolland and his boys became Brayshaw, how their families were brought in before they were born?”

I’m well aware none of the boys are blood Brayshaw, and that Rolland, Maddoc’s biological dad, was brought into the family when he was younger. I know damn well that after Rolland’s best friends were killed, he adopted their sons to raise as his own, giving each his earned Brayshaw name.

Three boys, not one blood related, but brothers by choice.

I know who the fuck they are.

“Yeah, you must,” he continues when I say nothing. “But what is it you think you know about my family?” He eyes me. “About my name?”

A laugh bubbles out of me instantly, and I roll my eyes. “Please, pretty boy. Tell me you’re not dumb enough to think I’d answer that?” I lean forward to meet his glare. “I may be sitting on your couch, but don’t fool yourself into believing it’s where I want to be.”

“You might wanna work on changing that, it’s where you should be.”

“Hard pass.”

He laughs lightly, his chin lowering. “Did you know it was a Graven lawyer who got Rolland Brayshaw convicted?”

I give him nothing, but even still, he nods.

“Yeah, you did. But did you know that lawyer was my father?”

I force an impassive expression when every muscle inside me locks. “Nope.”

Holy shit. Not just any Graven put their dad away, but Collins’ dad himself?

“Case didn’t even go to trial.” He smirks at my frown – so much for a blank face. “Daddy Brayshaw denied, denied, denied up until the very last second. Then, right before he was set for court, he changed his tune, pled guilty and took the deal.”

“Maybe he grew a conscience.”

“Or maybe he had a completely different reason to admit to a crime he swore he didn’t commit.” He arches a brow.

I force myself not to swallow but color me intrigued. “And what might that be?”

He simpers like he’s privy to something I’m not, picks up his glass and tosses it back in one gulp. He stands. “Now you’re the fool if you think I’ll tell you, but maybe, in time, Rae. That depends on you. Get up and let’s go.”

“Where?” I snap.

“Shopping.” He lets his eyes run over my form. “Can’t have my woman looking like she stepped out of a low budget music video.”