Page 7 of Unmask (Crew of Elmwood Public #2)

KAYLOR

T he low crunch of tires against gravel and snow sent a spike of adrenaline through my veins. I moved toward the window, peering out through the dusty glass just as a sleek black Land Rover rolled to a stop outside the cabin. Brock. And he hadn’t come alone.

Grayson stepped out of the passenger seat, scanning the area like he had too much experience in shady situations.

He was bundled in a puffer coat and had a beanie pulled over his head.

The Elite in general were extraordinarily good-looking, but I’d always thought Grayson the sexiest, and becoming a dad hadn’t changed his appeal.

If anything, it made him weirdly hotter.

His gaze assessed the cabin before he turned toward the front door.

Brock, on the other hand, took a less cautious approach, stalking right for the cabin, finding me the only thing on his mind, knowing Grayson had his back. Classic Brock, scowling, unfazed, as if nothing rattled him, but I knew better.

I’d always envied the friendship my cousin had with Grayson, Micah, and Fynn.

The Elite. It was more than a name. It meant something.

To each other. To everyone in this town.

To the girls lucky enough to call them theirs.

Some bonds went deeper than just friendship.

The four of them were tied together in ways I would never know.

Probably for the best.

I’d learned that sometimes ignorance could be bliss.

The image of my father had been forever altered by the truth.

Not wasting another second, I flung open the door and rushed toward the car. Grayson’s gaze locked on to me immediately, his head tilting slightly. “Anyone inside we need to worry about?”

I shook my head as I opened the back seat door, eager to get out of here. “Rusty left. I don’t know where he is. Probably at the shop.”

“Let’s go. I don’t want to be here if he comes back,” Brock said, still frowning at me. His gaze was too intense, and I felt him studying me as he and Grayson climbed back into the car.

Neither of them spoke right away, but as soon as I slammed the door shut, Brock shifted the SUV into drive and pulled back onto the path.

The tires kicked up snow as we wound through the dense trees, bumping over uneven ground.

The farther we got from the cabin, the more I realized just how deep in the woods Rusty had taken me.

The path was barely visible, the snow-draped trees pressing in on either side, thick and unyielding.

I hadn’t noticed last night. I’d been too damn exhausted, too numb, but now?

It made my stomach twist. If Rusty had wanted to keep me hidden, he could have.

Kreed wouldn’t have found me. No one would have, and yet, here I was, willingly walking right back into the Ravens’ lair.

I turned my head to stare out the window, my throat thick. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I should’ve stayed in that cabin, gone off-grid until I turned eighteen, but the thought of being alone, of hiding, made my chest squeeze with panic. And Brock… My cousin was safe. He always had been.

When we finally reached the massive iron gates leading to Taylor’s mansion, I rubbed the heel of my hand over my heart.

The estate loomed ahead, glistening under the late February sun, with its Greek and Roman influences, sitting on more land than any normal person would know what to do with.

It wasn’t my home, but it was familiar, and that was enough.

Brock pulled into the driveway, killing the engine before twisting in his seat to look at me.

His aqua eyes gave nothing away, but the flicker in his jaw betrayed him, a sure sign he was holding something back.

“My parents are out of the country for the next few months,” he said, nodding toward the house.

“You won’t have to worry about them showing up unexpectedly. ”

His parents’ absence was nothing new. Brock spent most of his life alone, being raised by a nanny or the staff.

My aunt and uncle weren’t bad people; they just weren’t hands-on and were very focused on their careers.

I had so many memories of coming here when we were younger, popping in when Uncle Sutton and Aunt Char were back in town.

They’d always brought me little trinkets from wherever they’d been overseas.

I tried to give Brock a smile of gratitude, but it fell short. “Thanks. Seriously. I mean it. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’re family. Now let’s go inside so you can tell me what kind of trouble we’re dealing with,” he said, reaching for the door.

I climbed out, clutching my phone as Grayson followed behind.

As soon as I stepped through the front door, Brock shut it with a quiet click before turning to face me.

His eyes were brimming with concern. “Have you eaten?”

“I had a piece of toast,” I admitted to my pathetic food intake. I hadn’t had a decent meal in what felt like days.

He nodded toward the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Grayson will fix us something to eat.”

Brock’s best friend snorted. “Since when did I become your chef?”

My cousin hooked an arm around my neck, giving me a quick squeeze before he answered Grayson. “Since you’re the only one of the three of us who can make something edible. Dad life has taught you a few things.”

Grayson rolled his eyes. “Do you even have any food here?” he asked, raising a brow.

My cousin’s lips thinned as he went to the fridge, me tailing behind. “Definitely not.”

“I’ll order us something,” Grayson grumbled, digging out his phone as he went to sit at the table.

Brock grabbed three drinks, handing me one as he passed by, and sat across from Grayson. He slid the can down the table, and Grayson snagged it before it went sailing off the edge. “Tell me what happened yesterday,” Brock said, popping the top on his can, the carbonation hissing.

Sitting in an empty seat, I gave Brock and Grayson the rundown of events while we waited for our food to arrive.

When I finished, the kitchen was quiet, except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional scrape of Brock’s fingers against the wooden table.

As Brock and Grayson digested everything, my fingers gripped the edge of my chair.

I thought unburdening the secret would take away some of the pressure pressing on my chest, but my pulse still hadn’t settled after spilling everything, the lies, the manipulation, the fucking betrayal.

I expected Brock to be pissed, but the storm brewing in his eyes was something else entirely.

“So let me get this straight.” Each syllable dropped like a threat, fury braided into every breath.

“Donovan Corvo didn’t just manipulate his way into getting guardianship of you.

He rigged your father’s will to make sure it happened? ”

I nodded, my throat tight. “Yeah. And his sons were in on it. Kreed was in on it.”

Brock muttered a curse under his breath, pushing back from the table so abruptly that his chair scraped against the tile.

He got up, pacing, shaking his head like he was trying to make sense of it.

“I knew it was weird when your father gave him, of all people, guardianship. It didn’t make any sense to me.

They’re gonna fucking pay for this,” he growled.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“They messed with the wrong family. I gave him one shot. He won’t get a second. Not from us.”

My chest squeezed at the possessiveness in his voice. Brock had always been protective. “I just want to forget they exist,” I admitted.

“Do you think Kreed or Donovan will let you walk away?” Grayson asked, voice deceptively calm, giving Brock a moment to collect himself. He didn’t need to press the question. It already clawed at the back of my mind.

“I don’t know why they’d want me to begin with.” I wrapped my arms around myself, the chill in the room suddenly more noticeable. “My parents are gone. They got their revenge. What importance could I have now?”

Grayson didn’t blink. “Control.”

The word hit harder than I expected. “I don’t understand.”

“You know about the Vipers Nest now,” he said slowly, watching me like he wasn’t sure how much I could handle. “You know your father was the head of the crew.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, don’t remind me. I still haven’t come to terms with that side of my dad yet.”

Brock and Grayson exchanged a brief glance, but it was enough to set uneasiness squirming in my chest.

“With you under their thumb, they can use you as leverage. A bargaining chip. They can force the Vipers’ hand and make them surrender what your father spent his life building.

” Grayson’s gaze sharpened, voice dropping low.

“Your dad didn’t just build the Nest, Kay.

He hid things in it, things bigger than drugs, bigger than money. ”

I swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”

“Ledgers. Records. Names,” Brock cut in.

“Politicians, cops, businessmen—all the assholes who kept the city in his pocket. He wrote it all down. Insurance. Blackmail. Enough dirt to bury half of Elmwood alive if it ever saw the light of day. Where do you think we get half of our intel?” Brock’s brows lifted.

“That’s what Donovan’s after. Not just you.

Not just revenge for his wife. If he controls you, he controls that legacy.

He can use you to unlock everything your dad left behind. ”

I shook my head, my stomach twisting. “I don’t have any of that. I don’t know where it is.”

Grayson leaned forward, his elbows braced on his knees, his eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t have to know. You are the key. The bloodline. The heir. As long as you’re breathing, you’re leverage to be used to give up this information, and every crew in this city knows it.”