Page 1 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

Prologue

Victoria

The light knock of knuckles against old wood has my eyes popping open to meet the cracked ceiling, but my focus quickly snaps toward the doorway.

Maybell, the woman who runs the group home I’ve spent the last three years of my life in, enters, the wrinkles on her forehead growing deeper with every step she takes inside. She pauses beside the second bed in the room, tapping her shoe against the wood to get my roommate’s attention.

She looks up from her magazine, pulling her headphones from her ears.

“Nira, why don’t you take a walk, hm?” Maybell drops the hint, letting her know to get lost without having to tell her to.

It’s her subtle way of avoiding the backlash of rebellious teenage girls who don’t do well with orders.

Nira glances from her to me, and with an overdramatic huff, rolls her eyes and walks out.

A scoffed exhale escapes Maybell as she drops beside me on the mattress. “All these girls, they’ll be the death of me.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “But would you walk away from this place if you could?”

“Oh, trust me, child.” She grins, her age showing in the heavy creases around her eyes. “I could go if I wanted, ain’t nobody forcing me here, but to answer your question, no. I wouldn’t walk away.” She’s quiet for a moment, a low, hopeful thought spoken in the next. “I’d like to help care for the next generation while I’ve still got it in me.”

Next generation.

Right.

The boys of Brayshaw, the power behind this town. Brothers who share no DNA but are connected in every way that counts. The boys Maybell has spent the last eighteen years caring for, and their fathers before them.

The ‘next generation’ Maybell is referring to, though, isn’t the three she’s already helped raise, but the newest members to the Brayshaw family, one not yet born but healthy, growing inside his or her mother, and the other, just shy of three years old.

A little girl who, as of this moment, only a handful of people know exists—the daughter of Captain Brayshaw. The little girl who was not only hidden from the world she belonged in, but from Captain himself. He learned of her months after she was born and went on a mission to find her.

He did, but their world is not a simple one, and threats too high to ignore kept her from coming home the moment he met her, but nobody could keep a Bray from their child forever. And after several decades worth of battles between power families—the Brayshaws and the Gravens—the right one won.

Zoey Brayshaw is finally home, where she belongs. Permanently.

But I’m not supposed to know any of this.

Not that she exists or is home or the struggles it took to get her here.

Not yet anyway.

Not until later today when Maddoc and his new bride, the true, long lost blood heir to the Brayshaw name, Raven Carver, get home.

Raven, who just learned she has a sister.

Me.

A secret that was given to me when I was a little girl, and only because I had no one to share the knowledge with, but then I did.

I found my sister, met her, spoke to her, lived in a group home alongside her, and chose not to say a word, but six weeks ago, and with a little help, Raven discovered the hidden truth on her own.

Her and I, we share a father, one neither of us would ever claim, the enemy to all who proudly represent the Brayshaw name and the head of another, Donley Graven of the Gravens. A bastard of a man who tried to ruin this town and the people in it, people who once trusted in his name.

Eighteen years ago, he raped our mothers with purpose, but decided they weren’t worth the trouble when neither baby he’d worked so sickeningly hard for was to be a male who could later take his place.

Donley tried to force them both into abortions, but each had run away before he could be sure they’d followed through. Their disappearances were still a win for him as nobody would learn the truth.

A lot has happened since then, though. His lies have been exposed, and with his end, both his name and empire have fallen.

Everyone pays when they piss off a Brayshaw.

Cross one, cross all.

A heavy sigh leaves me.

I’m expected to move out of this group home today and into the Brayshaw Mansion at the back of the property line, hidden and protected by thousands of tall, shadowed trees, a blanket of darkness to shield the black in their souls, or maybe it serves an opposite purpose—to hide the light they don’t want others to witness.

There is light, tenderness, and care, but nobody would ever guess so as they don’t share it with the world.

It’s, in part, why their home is reserved for them and them alone. Those on the outside aren’t allowed near, can’t see, and could never enter.