Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

“Why you fighting?” This comes from Maddoc.

“Because it’s just so much fun.” I roll my eyes, glancing from left to right to make sure there’s no one watching, then slip through the broken fence and start through the parking lot.

“Money,” Cap guesses as if there would be any other reason.

I cut my eyes toward him and he nods like he understands.

He doesn’t understand shit.

I thought these boys were like me, but they’re not. I don’t know for sure what conditions they were raised in, how hard or easy they had it when push came to shove, but one thing’s for sure, they were never poor boys from my kind of ghetto where you had to beg or steal to eat. I’m no thief and I refused to beg. It didn’t take me long to find another way.

“Stop fucking walking,” Maddoc complains and I stop all right, spinning to face him with a glare.

“Back the fuck off. Why are you guys even here? Shouldn’t you be at your little party making sure no peasants make it through the door in the kings’ absence?”

Royce grins at that and I roll my eyes. Idiot.

“Thanks to your bullshit, the school thinks you’re one of ours. You—”

“No, big man,” I cut him off with a mocking laugh and his jaw ticks. “They think I’m ‘one of yours,’ because you let them. Not my problem.”

He gets in my face and I hold my breath. “Our boys are questioning us. You show up to school with random cuts and bruises and it’s making people talk. We may be a lot of things, bastards in every way, but putting our hands on a woman when it’s not part of fucking her, isn’t our forte.”

“Is that supposed to make me cream?” I whisper like a slut. “Listening to you talk about how strong you are, how bad you are, how your hands are meant for pleasure, not pain?”

His eyes harden.

“’Cause guess what, you’re not the first boy to promise a prize at the end of the night who delivered a punch instead.”

His brows snap at the center and he grabs my upper arm, but before he can open his mouth, voices float from the other side of the parking lot.

I jerk from his hold and start forward, but he yanks me back.

They drop down to hide between the cars and I frown.

“This is private property,” Captain tells me as Maddoc yanks me down beside them.

I gape at them. “There’s literally like three dozen people not fifty feet away, yelling and screaming, and duh ... illegally fighting.” I widen my eyes like a brat. “It’s no fucking secret there are people walking all around here.”

The voice grows closer and Maddoc’s head snaps toward the sound, his forehead wrinkling.

He recognizes the voices.

He meets Captain’s stare before sliding it to Royce, who curses and props his head against the car door beside us, and it hits me.

They don’t want to be seen out here. But why?

Maddoc glances around, but I can tell he already knows – there’s no other way out of here.

Cap glares at me.

“What?”

“This is your fault.”

My mouth drops open. “My fault?” I hiss. “You fuckers pretend to play nice, insert yourself in everything I do, tracked my ass down, and this is my fucking fault? Like the joint being in Maddoc’s hand was ‘my fault’ or your followers thinking I’m with you because I noosed a girl for five seconds? You guys need to wake up and realize how weak you really are and fix it before someone who wants what you have comes in ready to take it. Can’t even own up to your own bullshit ‘cause it’s just so much easier to lay blame on everyone else, huh?”

“Enough.” Maddoc’s voice booms in a hush.

I shift my glare to his. “It’s enough when I say it’s enough!”

The voices trail closer and all three of the boys’ features tighten.

This, being here and being seen by these men, whoever the hell they are, is a problem for them.

Cap slips on his brass knuckles, Royce pops his and big man tips his chin.

Fuck.

I look down at my outfit – track pants, ripped up tennies, and a baggy sweater.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

This isn’t my problem.

But I mean, if I’m seen, oh fucking well. I was on the cards tonight, meaning if I were questioned by security or who the fuck ever questions people at an underground fighting ring, I’d have reason to be here.

But what happens if they’re seen?

Ugh, not your problem, Rae...

I bob my knee a minute before I shift to stand but bend so my height isn’t over the car beside us. “Fuck it.”

I start pulling off my battered shoes and socks and stuff them in my bag.

“The fuck...” Royce trails off.

My sweater is yanked off next and the boys’ necks pull back.