Royally Broken by Elle Boon Page 0,12

show up to school, get his degree and he was out. He’d already turned eighteen a few months back, signed up for the Navy without telling a soul, and passed all the tests he needed. Now all he had to do was graduate and get the one answer he’d waited for.

A month later...

“You said you’d tell me who my parents were,” he gritted out, staring at the bitch on the front porch.

Silas held the cap he’d worn during graduation. One of his teachers had surprised him with the ensemble, telling him no student with straight A’s should have to walk across the stage without the proper attire. Silas didn’t care about all that. Hell, he didn’t give two shits about walking across the stage. All he cared about was getting to the recruiters’ office and signing that final piece of paper so he could get out of the shithole he lived in.

“Where’d you get that get up, steal it?” she spat a stream of brown liquid into a can.

He didn’t answer knowing she’d believe he did or wouldn’t care either way.

“What, now that you got your degree yous thinking you better than us, boya?” Blaire Langley asked from behind the screen door.

Shit, he’d thought the brothers were gone. He looked around for the truck, wondering where the other asshole was.

“You dumb? Cat got your tongue. I asks yous a question. Need me to remind you what happens when you step outta line, boya?” Blaire asked, his words slurred.

“I’ll just be on my way.” He kept his eyes on Blaire, listening for the other brother. If one was home the other was probably near.

The screen screeched as Blaire pushed it open. “Now, don’t be hasty. We ain’t got to give you a proper party, ain’t that right, Mama?”

Silas looked from the drunk shithead to the woman who was also a drunk. Her husband had been alive when Silas had first come to live with them, but he’d fallen into the Mississippi River when Silas was a toddler, or so they’d said. Silas wasn’t so sure after the things he’d heard them say, but even still, he didn’t have any memories of him. Looking around the yard, he could only guess the asshole got away from a life of misery.

He narrowed his eyes as Blaire stumbled and fell down the steps, his groan ending in a hacking cough.

“Help him up, boy,” Claire snarled.

A quick glance down, Silas saw Blaire’s hunting knife protruding from his abdomen, with blood pooling beneath him. Fuck, what the hell should he do. “Miss Claire, you need to call an ambulance. He’s landed on his knife there.” Silas didn’t move any closer.

“You don’t call me by my name, boy. It’s ma’am.” She tried to push up, failing as her hands wouldn’t hold her weight.

Silas took a step back then another. This family had damn near killed him every chance they’d had. She’d promised him the only thing he’d ever wanted, but he’d known she had lied, holding out on the only piece of hope he’d had. He kept walking backward, never taking his eyes off the spectacle before him.

Ma’am, as she expected him to call her called out to him, yelling for him to help. Silas turned at the driveway, letting his feet lead him back toward the road. They weren’t his family, not his problem. When he hit the street, he kept walking, holding his cap that didn’t mean shit to him but held so much hope. The next town over, where the Navy office was located, was his destination. Thirty miles. He could make it. He had to make it. Luckily for him, he was in shape thanks to all the walking he’d had to do in his life.

The sound of a diesel engine had him moving farther into the grass. Not that he feared he’d be hit in broad daylight; however, it was best to be safe than sorry.

He watched the big rig’s taillights turn red. His fight or flight instincts had him looking toward the woods to his right. Shit, he needed to make it to the next town over before they closed at seven.

“Hey, kid, you need a lift?”

Silas took a deep breath, deciding to take a leap of faith for once. If he had to, he’d jump out of the truck if the dude got stupid, or...he’d do what he had to survive. Killing a man would wreck his plans but he was done being a punching bag.

“Thanks, man.” He hauled himself