Break Me (Brayshaw High) - Meagan Brandy Page 0,41

the fuck out of here.”

“What—”

He throws his door open and jumps out.

He lifts the weapon, going straight for the guy, but he forgets to watch his back, and is quickly wrapped up and taken to the ground.

“Shit!”

I hop over the seat, locking the door right as another one is slamming his palms against it, tearing at the handle.

The guy’s head tilts like the freak from The Purge, and he slams a hand on the window, but then his arm disappears behind his back, and I blink rapidly, my pulse far too erratic to stop the blood flow to my brain.

His hand flies out, and on reflex, I flinch.

But that hand, it doesn’t hold a gun or knife or whatever I came up with in my head.

It holds a key.

I inhale, and then the lock pops open.

The door is yanked open, and he darts forward, but I lift the crowbar from my lap and thrust it forward as hard as I can, driving it into the person’s neck.

And that person?

He laughs.

Everything in me both freezes and melts, and I tear the mask off his head.

“Are you shitting me?” comes out as a harsh whisper.

The other three walk around, each pulling off their masks.

They grin wide, eyes trailing and while I can’t see the shades of them, I can see their figures, and I know who they are.

I blink several times, long and hard, and when my lids open again, things are a little clearer.

I stare into the shadowy eyes across from mine, feel the strong grip that wraps around my fingers to push the crowbar down, and a grin that tugs at the lips inches from mine.

A fourth car skids up beside us, and in my peripheral, I watch as the door is thrown open, a fifth person stepping out.

And then heated breaths meet my skin, just over my collarbone, and the devilishly delivered words whispered send a shiver down my spine. “Welcome to Brayshaw.”

Holy.

Shit.

I’m not sure how long I stare into the chocolate eyes before me, but then his lips lift, and right as the shapes around me regain their clarity.

My eyes fly from one figure to the other like a pinball, waiting to see more of each one, but at the same time, eager to see more from the next.

The infamous Brayshaw boys, and the rest of their family stare straight at me, a different expression on each of their faces, but I do my best to focus on one at a time

The boys, they’re so easy to tell apart, each with distinct features of their own.

Maddoc, who stands there with a blank face, has thick, dark hair, and caramel-colored skin which gives him away instantly. He’s every bit of a living Greek god. An angry, eerily emotionless one. From what I’ve gathered, he’s the one to watch. Not the leader, as they’re all thought of as equal, but there’s something about him that merits extra caution and meticulous care.

Captain stands beside him and offers a slight tip of his chin and a small smile. He’s as tall as Royce and Maddoc, but with wider shoulders, creamier colored skin, and blond hair—the most obvious contrast of his adoptive siblings. He’s got that all-American vibe going, but to be blinded by first glance is to miss the confidence in his wide stance, the tension in his shoulders—he’s pretty, but perilous.

A gorgeous girl with golden hair that meets her hips has her elbow propped on Captain’s shoulder, but I’m not sure who she is.

His BrayGirl, maybe?

A quick laugh comes from the left and my head jerks that way.

My breath lodges in my throat as my eyes land on Raven Carver.

Or I should say Raven Brayshaw.

Long, dark hair, ink black and shining, she tips her head with a grin.

The heir to the entire Brayshaw empire who nobody even knew existed until she showed up on the doorstep of the very group home I now live in, if what I’ve learned is true.

A product of rape in a war between the founding families of this town, raised by a vile mother, a whore in true form, every bit a trailer trash disaster, and abused as a young girl.

Yet here she stands.

Strong.

Bold.

Inspiring.

Very, very pregnant.

“That.” She jerks her head. “Is Victoria, and my sister. And yes, Cap’s BrayGirl.”

“Bitch.” Victoria draws my attention with a smile. “I’m his now, tomorrow, always... and you.” She nods with a smirk, her eyes falling to the crowbar in Royce’s hand, slowly coming back to mine. “Are off to a