Page 24 of Be My Brayshaw (Brayshaw High 4)

“So play me like your favorite toy.”

“You couldn’t handle if I did.”

“There is nothing you could do that could cut deep enough to make me bleed. I’m hollow, Cap. Torn apart, depleted, and re-stitched with a whole lot of nothing.”

He’s slow in his movement, brushing his chest across mine as he lifts my chin. “How fun it will be to prove you wrong.” He steps around me. “Go inside, brush your hair, and be on the porch in fifteen minutes. We’re leaving and you’re coming.”

“Where?”

“Fourteen minutes.”

Ass.A familiar heat burns against my skin, but I pretend not to notice for as long as my body allows, which happens to be no more than a minute or two.

I meet his eyes.

Captain gives no expression but pointedly looks in the direction I was staring, where Chloe and Mac sit chatting with Tisha, and back to me with a raised brow.

Of course, no words follow, so I look away.

He hasn’t said a single thing to me since we got here an hour ago, not that he’s spoken at all, but still.

He wants attention, he needs to give it. I’m not playing his staring games tonight.

I take a long drink of water, and stand, walking closer to the entrance of this place, and lean against the inner frame. There are crowds of people all around, from one end of the warehouses to the next.

Nothing but giant iron rods surround this place, large sheets of tin woven between them to keep those on the outside from peeking in—if they don’t want you to see, you never will. There are guards out front and scattered all around to make sure of it. Being on the outer edge of town, closest to nothing, it leaves no excuse for passersby who don’t belong having ‘just been in the area.’

It’s growing louder by the minute out there, several people now crowded around the smaller makeshift rings, watching the opening match while others wait by the larger one, securing their spots for the fight of the night.

A small smile finds the corner of my mouth as I glance around.

My kind, their kind, all together for some late-night debauchery, not that it’s any different than normal out here, but I haven’t had a night out or away in a long ass time. It’s rowdy and wild, yeah, but it’s a good ass place to chill out, people watch.

A great place to find leverage.

My features tighten at the thought.

That’s the kind of shit that got me into the trouble I’m currently in, but my brain won’t stop. It’s what I’m good at.

Movement to my right catches my eye, and I shift to find Royce stepping up.

He winks, but it’s ugly and malicious as he pushes the sliding sheet metal doors open all the way, allowing those outside to see into the newly remodeled building.

Only months ago, all that was in here were a couple chairs and crates lining the walls. After bets took place, the guy who used to run this place, Bass Bishop, would slip in here. Maybe to count or store the money, I don’t know, but it was a wasted space for sure—dust and cobwebs, unused.

Maddoc, though, he knew how much Raven liked this place and wasn’t okay with her being out in the open constantly, so he had it redone.

While the outside is still old and beat down looking, stepping inside is like entering some sort of black cards club.

Walls have been put up, thick, black and white stripes covering three of them, a large wolf head painted across the center, black where the white stripe is, white where the black is.

The fourth, the longest back part of the building, is rich, royal blue, thick white lettering above it reading The Wolves Den.

There’s a bar stretching along it, leaving about five feet at each end, where matte black curtains are hung. They curve outward, forming a crescent-like shape, hiding whatever is beyond them.

Each corner of this place holds something different, couches that match the color of the back wall are grouped to the farthest right, surrounding a giant TV mounted high, ESPN playing across it while the outer left has a poker table set up and ready to go—Captain sits at one of the tables, must be where he plans to spend his night.

The front left is plush leather chairs and mini tables, another TV, while the front right, where I’m standing by the door, is a long row of lockers. Where they expect people to leave their shit maybe?

I glance back when I notice Raven stand, an oversized jacket swallowing her small frame, to hide her stomach still, I’m guessing. Maddoc is already on his feet, leading her behind the hidden area on the left.

Royce’s phone pings in his pocket and his eyes slide back to mine. “That’s the church bell, VicVee. Time to be kings for peasants.”