Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw High 1)

I owe them nothing, have no loyalties to honor. Nothing at all ties me to these boys and the stupid shit they do.

Yet something has my feet creeping along the house until the hose is in my hands. I use my knife to slice through it at a little bigger than arm’s length. And again, something has me tiptoeing out wide to round the cars lining the left of the driveway so I can come up behind the party crashers.

With my hands on the ends, I create a loop and quickly and easily slip the rubber around the girl’s neck and pull.

She yelps, but it’s cut short when I kick her legs from under her and she falls on her ass, the phone flying from her hand.

The guys she’s with spin quickly, but I haul her back a few steps and they pause.

After that first moment of shock, one decides to charge me but Maddoc catches him by the collar, tossing him backward with little effort.

I tighten my hold as the girl flails around, widening my eyes at the guys. “Uh, hello. Grab her phone!”

Royce darts for it as Captain steps in the center with his brass knuckles on and ready, daring them to make a move for his boy who has his back turned.

Royce snatches the phone from the girl’s feet and demands the password.

When she hesitates, I yank tighter and she cries out the code.

Royce pushes some buttons on the screen and then glares, before snapping it in half and stuffing it in his pocket. “Hope you weren’t attached to anything in your cloud. It’s all gone now.”

When she starts to kick, I tighten my hold even more. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, creating a natural – dangerous – high that grows stronger the more she gags. Her hands coming up to claw at my forearms, and I look down, following the small beads of blood running down my wrist, having felt nothing.

“Let her go now, Raven,” Maddoc tells me.

There’s a gentle, almost hesitance to his tone that has my ribs compressing.

I don’t want to let her go...

Blood drips onto my shoe.

“Raven.”

My head snaps up at the rough command and I freeze.

The party has come to the lawn for the show.

Shit.

I let her go, and slowly push to stand.

Wide eyes and whispers surround me, and I take a half a step back.

I spin on my heels, speed walking down the dirt path.

I ignore their yells when they call me back and keep moving forward.

I spin my arms around, taking deep breaths to try and settle my erratic heart.

This is the least I’ve fought in the last two years and shit’s building up inside me. Anger and resentment I hide until I can’t, a numbness I crave but can’t find without rage to kick start it. And they just saw it.

Fuck.

I groan and glance around.

There’s fucking nothing this way, and thankfully the stars light up the road, but no way in hell will I go back to the party so all those people can look at me like some wannabee groupie fighting for their attention or forgiveness or what-the-fuck-ever.

That’s not what this was.

I was there, those people were playing foul, and it irritated me.

There’s nothing that gets me going worse than a vindictive piece of shit willing to sell someone out, ruin shit for someone else, for personal gain.

It’s weak and pathetic.

Even if these boys are from some privileged family like I’m hearing, if half of what Victoria said was true, they’ve got to have mad underlying issues, and for them to want something for themselves, even if it’s just to win some high school basketball games, is dope. I can get behind that.

Do they go about it wrong? Fuck yeah, they do. But still, they work hard, fight for what they want and no way in hell was some social climbing serpent going to ruin it for the fuck of it. Not without a solid reason or need for revenge – not that that’s the best way to handle things, but in a world like mine, that’s how it works.

If they lose what they’re working toward, it needs to be because they stole it from themselves. Not at the hands of anyone else.

It doesn’t take long for one of those familiar SUVs to pull up beside me.

The door is pushed open, revealing Vienna sitting there with wide eyes, so I slip in.

All three boys are inside as well, but nobody says a damn word. The drive is dead silent.

A little while later, when they park in front of the group home, Captain speaks.

“Go through the front door, don’t worry about being seen.”

I don’t question him and neither does Vienna. We simply do what he says.

And it works.I’m in the land of Oz right now, I swear to God.

As I step around the corner, I’m stopped yet again by another damn stranger. Each one has some bogus ass compliment or faux interest question about how my weekend was or something else as equally lame. Too bad for this chick, I’ve braved through a solid hundred phonies and I just can’t right now.