Break Me (Brayshaw High 5)

I cut a quick glance at the clock.

Royce said he’d bust in at the nine-minute mark.

It’s been eight.

My mind begins to race, several scenarios playing out in my mind of how this is about to go down, but just as my smile grows and I take that seat as he asked, the clock ticks past the twelve.

The door isn’t thrown open.

To make it worse, Coach Von drops into the seat beside me, urging me to bite from the brownie in my palm.

I swallow, curling my toes in my shoes to try and keep calm, but I know my body, and I know it’s no use.

I lift a tiny piece to my mouth to appease him, my heart rate kicks up instantly. I know what comes next, and damn it, I’m not so sure I can stop it.

Where the hell are you, Royce?Chapter 31Royce“Two minutes, let’s go.” I stuff my phone in my pocket, and all at once, me, Mac, Micah, and Captain step from Micah’s car. We rush up the back steps of the school and go to push through the gate, our momentum driving us backward when we push against it and it doesn’t budge.

My stomach falls to my feet, alarm threatening to send vomit up my throat.

“What the fuck!” I yank on it.

They yank on it.

Nothing fucking happens.

I take a few steps back, run, and scale the fucking thing, the others right behind me.

My shirt gets caught on the sharp metal, tearing slightly when I drop down and run forward, but as we reach the double doors, those fucking things are locked too.

We chose the back for a reason—their students aren’t allowed to exit this way, we wouldn’t raise eyebrows, but nothing should ever be locked like this. Ever.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Captain shouts, already rushing around to the front, Micah and Mac on his tail, but Mac skids, losing his footing, and turns back to me when he notices I haven’t moved.

“Royce,” he snaps.

I shake my head and jerk right, opposite of them. “This ain’t right. Go with Cap.”

He doesn’t argue, and I’m gone, jumping the garden fence and running down the green strip.

The gate and door was locked, bet the fucking classroom is too, and I’m willing to bet the fucker wouldn’t dare open it on his own, which means they’ll have to bust through.

He’ll know he’s a fucking dead man, and dead men run. He’ll have one option at that point and one option only. I need to take that away, because I’ll be fucking damned if the son of a bitch gets away.

Not from me.

People see me run by, but nothing registers, all I hear is her soft voice calling me, wondering where I am and why I’m not there like I told her I would be.

I stood there, right in front of her, looked her in her eyes and she trusted my word.

I brought her into this shit, said she could handle it. That she was strong enough.

She’s got survival skills—she found something to protect herself when she thought she was being attacked that morning on the bridge.

She’s aware—didn’t blindly drink the beer she’d left unattended, unaware I slipped a pill inside it but cautious just in case,

She’s daring and quick—put a plan together on her own and took care of Enoch without help.

She’s smart—knew what was needed for Taylor and how to handle her with care.

She’s brave—willing to walk into a lion’s den today... trusting I would be there.

I should have been and thirty seconds before promised.

No matter fucking what, I should have been.

I thought hanging back, staying out of sight so we didn’t raise questions was the smooth move, the one that would keep his guard down—everyone knows when we arrive, the charge in the air shifts, and he would have felt it.

I’m a piece of shit.

I fuck up.

I wreck.

So, wreck I fucking will.

I’ll start with Coach Von’s face... and then move onto something much fuckin’ harder. More devastating.

I refuse to paint her world black when she’s only begun to see the shades of the summer sun.

It’s with that thought I burst wide, running in a curved circle to gain momentum.

I don’t slow, think, or pause. I throw my arm up, my body forward, and bust through the fucking window. I catch his wide eyes the split second before I’m through the glass, and that’s all I remember, ‘cause in that same moment, mine are drawn to a frozen Brielle, clutching the arm of her chair, her eyes tight and, rapidly blinking, and on me.

She jumps up and dashes for me, but she bumps into a desk and stumbles a bit, catching herself on the chair.

I briefly register Mac’s slow and cautious voice from the other side of the door, urging me to open it for him and the others.

I don’t.