Page 2 of Unmask (Crew of Elmwood Public #2)

“When you come crawling back for his help, I’ll be the first to remind you of this moment,” Maddox promised.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Maddox’s broad back heading into the night. Kreed and Nash were already gone. Only Mason lingered behind.

I didn’t think it would be easy, but I also hadn’t anticipated it being as hard as it was to watch Kreed walk out of the warehouse, leaving me alone. Had I expected him to fight harder for me? Was I disappointed?

The only thing I was sure of was what a fucking mess I was.

Mason shook his head at me, a well of sadness and remorse pooling in his light-green eyes, not a wink of his usual boyish humor. “I don’t want to leave you like this. It feels…wrong.”

“That’s because everything about what happened is wrong,” I murmured.

Mason shoved his hands into his pockets. “I thought we were friends.”

How could he make me feel like shit when I hadn’t done anything wrong? “So did I. I guess we were both wrong. There’s too much shit between us for a friendship to be possible.”

His gaze shifted to the four beefy guys standing in the warehouse corners, waiting and watching, before finding mine again. “Our parents’ shit isn’t our shit.”

There might be some truth to his statement. I wasn’t my father. Perhaps they weren’t their father either, but they’d still been compliant. “It doesn’t feel like that.”

“Maybe you’re right, but staying won’t bring them back. This isn’t the answer, and you know it, kitten.”

Not my little kitten but just kitten. I never thought I would want to hear their possessive nicknames ever again. Maybe I didn’t.

I hated the expression on Mason’s features and that we had an audience for what should be a private conversation.

A vulnerable Mason wasn’t something I was used to.

“Kreed doesn’t let people in. Ever. But he let you in.

You . Think about that while you’re alone tonight.

Whose bed will you sneak into? His?” Mason’s eyes shifted to Rusty’s as he snorted in disgust. Giving me one last suffering glance, Mason walked out.

Go after him!

Go after them!

I couldn’t figure out where the voice stemmed from. My wounded heart? Or my head?

Bending down, I picked up my phone, and this time, I didn’t look back despite the conflict pressing inside me.

I locked the office door behind me, pressing my spine against it, sucking in a breath that did absolutely nothing to steady the riot inside me. The walls were closing in. The world spiraled around me.

“What the fuck have I done?” I muttered under my breath. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard, curling into myself, trying to hold everything in, trying to contain the hurricane of emotions threatening to rip me apart from the inside out.

But I couldn’t.

A sob tore from my throat, raw and violent, my forehead dropping to my knees.

Then another. And another. Until I was screaming.

Silent at first, then louder, the sound clawing its way up, choking me, shaking me apart.

I wailed into the empty room and let out one long, tortured scream brimming with anger, agony, loss, loneliness, heartache, and betrayal.

I didn’t know how to process it. Any of it.

My father. My parents’ death. Kreed. His brothers. His father. The lies. The truth.

If I thought I had come close to dealing with a fraction of my grief, I was so wrong. My body trembled; my breath came too fast, too shallow. A high-pitched buzzing filled my ears, spreading to my fingers, making my hands feel both weightless and unbearably heavy at the same time.

Breathe. Just breathe.

I pressed my hands to my chest, trying to force air into my lungs, but it wasn’t working. My vision blurred, darkening at the edges.

I needed—God, I didn’t even know what I needed.

My phone.

I turned it over with shaking fingers, barely able to see the screen through my tears. Kenny. Carson. My best friends. The ones who had always been my go-to when my world was falling apart, but my thumb didn’t tap their names.

Instead, it hovered over one contact.

Kreed.

What the hell is wrong with me?

My stomach twisted. When had that changed? When had he become the person I wanted to call when I couldn’t breathe?

No. No, I can’t do this. Won’t.

I hated how my traitorous heart wanted him even as my mind screamed he was poison.

Trauma did that; it scrambled the compass until north looked like south, until danger felt like home.

Kreed was just as much a part of this mess as the rest of them.

I had to separate myself from the chaos so I could see clearly. Right now, everything was muddled.

With my jaw clamped, I swiped away from his name, pulling up Carson’s number instead. Before I pressed call, a knock echoed through the room.

My heart stopped.

For a second, I thought it might be Kreed. Had he come back? My throat worked as I swallowed. I started to shove away from the door.

“Kaylor?”

Shit. Rusty.

Disappointment dropped like a severed wrecking ball in my gut.

I’d nearly forgotten him, forgotten where I was.

Relief ribboned through me, but it didn’t last. Why was my first thought always Kreed?

He was gone, and I should be happy. I should be feeling anything but sad and broken. Anger, hell yes.

“You okay?” Rusty asked through the office door.

A bitter laugh bubbled up. “No.”

The shifting of his feet sounded from the other side of the door. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you out of here. It’s been a long day. You’ll feel better after you’ve rested.”

I swiped at my face, the black makeup I’d been wearing for the football game smeared over my still shaky fingers. The football game. It seemed like years ago I’d been sitting in the stands with Poppy. Oh God. Poppy . Was she okay? “Go where?” I squeaked, wiping at the snot dripping from my nose.

“Somewhere you can cool off for a bit. No one will bother you there.” His voice, that deep, gruff timbre, easily carried through the door.

That wasn’t exactly reassuring.

Unease twisted low in my stomach, but this was Rusty. Not a stranger. Not like when I had been thrown into the Corvos’ world, forced to navigate a house full of people who saw me as nothing more than a pawn in their twisted game.

That had been hell, but I had survived. I had to keep reminding myself. I was alive. I was lucky. I needed to keep living.

Forcing myself to my feet, I wiped my palms against my jeans before unlocking the door. Rusty stood there waiting in his oil-stained pants tucked into his dusty, untied, black combat boots. Behind his bushy beard, it was difficult to read what was going on, but that had always been Rusty.

“Can’t I just stay at my place?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

Rusty’s lips thinned behind his mustache, sympathy crossing his features.

He was a bigger and bulkier guy than my father had been, but he’d always been this gentle giant to me.

“It’s not yours anymore, kiddo. Donovan sold it.

” Contempt weighed heavily in his admission.

He didn’t like having to tell me any more than I liked hearing the hard truth.

My stomach bottomed out. “What?”

Rusty leaned a shoulder against the door, filling the entire entrance. “Some other family bought it and moved in about a week ago.”

The words barely registered. My house. The only thing I had left of my parents. Gone. Sold.

I swayed on my feet, my mind racing. How could Donovan do that?

And more importantly, why the hell hadn’t Kenny or Carson told me?