He looks ready to say something, but I couldn’t guess as to what. His eyes give nothing. The second the ice within them begins to thaw, he jerks away, stepping from the trees before turning to me once more.

“Welcome home, Beauty.” His words are delivered in a cold and unfitting manner.

Maybe I pushed the rational brother too far?

Captain spreads his arms out wide, the Brayshaw mansion taunting me in the distance behind him. “Might wanna sleep with one eye open.”

My forehead tightens as my pulse spikes.

Does this make me the enemy?

The tension written across his face screams no, that he doesn’t want me to be, but he’s gone before I can be sure.

In the next moment, I consider running, disappearing, only the thought is gone as soon as it hits, because the cost of leaving this place is too high.

If I run, I lose everything I never had and always wanted, risk having the only people who’d ever made me feel as if being myself was enough, in turn hating me forever.

Allow them to push me away when I’ve only just grown closer?

I don’t fucking think so.

They pulled me from my hiding places, and I’m glad.

I’m tired of dark corners, tired of the background.

Tired of losing before I’ve gotten to compete.

It won’t be easy, and I’ll have to claw my way in when he—when they—try to force me out, but I know them enough to understand if there was a chance to gain their trust, that that’s the way they’d want it.

They’d never respect someone who would roll over and take it, change who they are and allow the broken parts inside to win.

They want the challenge, proof I want it.

They want the strong, proof I can handle it.

They want the truth, confirmation I belong.

I do belong.

They’ll see.

Raven is my sister, this is my new home.

It won’t be easy, but I’m ready to fight for everything that comes with it.

If I’m lucky, a blond Brayshaw included.

Chapter 1

Captain

I should have known.

My last name is Brayshaw, and while those on the outside looking in may believe being a member of this family means all things come easy, the reality doesn’t come close.

More than anything in our lives, we fight.

Me, my brothers, Raven. Shit, anyone who is tied to our name, really.

We fight for our people, what we believe in and what we want, what we feel we’re deserved. Outside of the love and loyalty for them, not a damn thing has ever even come close to easy.

That right there is exactly why, when a long-legged, strong-willed, stubborn ass blonde with pouty lips, and bratty little blink slid into our world I should have taken four steps back for every one she drew me forward.

And fuck me, did she draw me forward.

I resisted.

I fought against her.

I caved.

I took her mouth like I’d wanted to for months, tasting what became my newfound favorite flavor.

But our town is a twisted place and no move is as simple as making it, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when not two minutes after, I learned of a lie.

A lie too big to forgive.

Two and a half years ago I found out I had a daughter who was already born and hidden from me, she was two months old by the time I discovered her.

Today, I learned the blonde I planned to keep for myself knew of my little girl before I did and never said a word.

This blonde, she was a stranger to me then, so did she owe me any loyalty? Not even a little bit and I want nothing I haven’t earned.

That’s the solid truth.

So why the fuck does her betrayal sting like a cut to the chest as if she already holds a place there?

She doesn’t.

She won’t.

Because while she might not have owed me then, she sure as fuck does now.

I slam my notebook shut and toss it to the floor with a huff, my glare flying to the dark, empty hallway. The hallway that now leads to her new bedroom.

At first, she was afraid to move in—only a fool would lay where the wolves sleep, especially when one has been left starved and angry, right?

At least, that’s what common sense would tell you.

So why did the little liar take the stairs two at a time, and how, after being warned to keep one eye open, did she fall asleep with ease?

Running my hands down my face, I let my head fall to the headboard, blindly reaching over for my Brayshaw item—heavy brass knuckles given to me by my father at the age of seven.

I pull them close to my face, inspecting the anchor symbol etched along the curves, a perfect match to the ones tattooed across my knuckles, and read the words scrolled beside them.

Family runs deeper than blood.

Words all Brayshaws live and breathe by, another way of saying never trust blind or give loyalty to those who haven’t earned it. You don’t have to come from the same line to form a solid and strong one.

If only the treacherous blonde understood such a thing.

I close my eyes, pulling in a deep breath to try and relax, but not two seconds later the quiet click of a knob turning has them flying open. I focus, listening to the silence stretching across this wing of the mansion, and for a moment I think I imagined it—three a.m. will do that to you—but then soft thumps sound.

Footsteps.

I bring my eyelids as low as I can without shutting them completely and not a moment later, she tips her head around the corner, only one of her eyes showing as she hides as much of herself as possible.

She was expecting me to be lying down, sleeping, or absent altogether, so the sight of my body sitting up against the headboard has her freezing in place.

I hold as still as a hunter while she searches for a sign of lucidness.

She finds none, and tiptoes a foot farther, peeking into the open room across from mine.

Peeking in on my daughter as if she has any right to go near her.

Brave or stupid?

She leans forward, her hand resting loosely on Zoey’s doorframe.

I jump up as swiftly and silently as possible, and right before she tries to take a step inside, I cage her in, my body forcing hers flat against the wall.

Her gasp is quiet and quickly swallowed.

She knows who’s behind her, which is why she doesn’t bother looking to confirm.

Her grip on the white molding tightens, even more so when I place my right hand beneath hers, my left planting on the opposite side.

I don’t say anything and neither does she.

Tension builds around us, thickening the air as heat and hatred meet.

She as aware as I am.

Her shoulders rise higher, fall faster, her quick breaths fanning across my hand and causing my jaw to clench.

I shift closer, not missing the curl of her toes against the floor.

Is she scared? Nervous?

Turned on?

My dick twitches without permission.

She should be uneasy at the very least.

We opened the door for her, something we don’t normally do, and she stepped right through, hard lies buried beneath a baggy hoodie.

She was a master of hiding—herself, her thoughts, her truths.

I bring my lips close to her ear.

She’s maybe five-five to my six-two, so I have to dip my head to get where I want.

I let out a slow exhale, a sick satisfaction flaring in my groin when her fingers twitch.