“I also know you spent a little bit of time in a psychiatric hospital,” Zay continues. “Because, apparently, there was speculation that you killed your parents.”
Images flash through my mind, along with rage.
Blood on my hands.
Where am I?
Who are those bloody people lying on the floor in front of me?
What happened?
Where am I?
Why can’t I remember anything?
“Shut up,” I whisper in a shaky tone.
Tears sting my eyes, but I suck them back. Will them to get the fuck out of my eyes. I haven’t cried since that day, and I sure as hell am not going to start now, especially in front of these guys.
“Why?” His tone is all sorts of mocking. “Is it hurting your feelings?”
“No,” I reply flatly. “It’s pissing me off.”
“Pissing you off because it’s true?” he goads with a smirk.
As blood roars in my eardrums, I stab my fingernails deeper into my palms until I feel the flesh split open.
“If it is,” I say in a calm tone, “then you might want to be a little more careful around me.”
Jax looks back at me while Hunter glances at me through the rearview mirror. Neither pity nor fear reflect in their eyes like I expect. No, they look intrigued.
A low laugh reverberates from Zay’s chest, but not of drop of humor rings in the noise. “You know what I think?” he says. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about. And you want to know why? Because I don’t think you killed them.”
“Then I guess you’re an idiot,” I say. “Because I did.”
Eight
Raven
No one utters a word for about a minute after my declaration. And for a second, I think that maybe I’ve scared them enough that they’ll bail out of whatever they plan on doing to me. But then I realize I’m wrong as Hunter makes a turn off the main highway and down a side road that leads toward the hills that are dotted with snow.
“So, we’re going with option two then.” Jax bobs his head as his gaze skims the snowy hills and trees bordering the road. “Good call.”
“Don’t pretend like I made the call,” Hunter replies as he speeds up the SUV. “You know you always get the final say.”
Jax flicks his cigarette out the window then reclines in the seat and crosses his arms. “Because I’m the only rational one out of the three of us.”
To imply any of them are rational has me rolling my eyes.
Jax notices but doesn’t remark, looking away from me and staring out the window again. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t the only rational one. It’d make things a hell of a lot easier.”
“You could always just stop,” Zay suggests, using his free hand to dig a pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
While he’s distracted, I shift my position and move my hand into my pocket. A breath eases from my lips as my fingers brush against my phone. I wait for Zay to catch me, but he seems too distracted with lighting up his cigarette and taking a drag, so I keep going, slowly flipping my phone open. Then I slide my fingers along the buttons, pushing the one I believe is my aunt’s contact number—
“What’re you doing?” Zay snaps, jerking on my arm and yanking my hand out of my pocket.
My phone flies out and lands on the floor with a thud.
“Stop!” I shout, writhing around in a lame-ass attempt to escape. I’m not going to stop fighting until the end. It’s in my blood to fight.
“Whatever you do, never give up,” my dad once told me. “Hold your ground and fight. You got that, Raven. You fight until the very end,”
He did that a lot—taught me to defend myself—starting when I turned six, and we moved into a neighborhood that had a pretty high crime rate. And even though I know Zay is a huge dude and I probably don’t stand a chance, I keep on fighting.
Jax’s gaze snaps back to us. Then he leans over the console and scoops up my phone.
“Give me that!” I growl. “That’s mine!”
Jax ignores me, rolls down the window, and throws it out of the car.
“You’re an asshole,” I snap as Zay pins me against the seat again.
Jax gives a shrug. “I’ve been called worse.”
“I’m sure you have,” I snap, my pulse pounding and not just with fear. No, I’m more pissed off than anything else.
How dare they take me against my will.
How dare they taunt me.
How dare they read my personal files.
It’s just like with Dixie May, always controlling me. Everyone is always controlling me. I’m so pissed off. But I’m also tired. Really, really tired of always being pushed around, mocked, beaten down.
“How did you get ahold of those files about me?” I ask, sounding way too calm with how I feel inside.
“I have connections,” Zay replies simply. “All of us do. With the teachers, the cops. In fact, we have almost everyone in this town wrapped around our little fingers, which makes getting what we want pretty damn easy.”
“Good for you,” I say. “But whatever you’re about to try to make me do, it’s not gonna happen.”
“Is that so?” Zay questions. “Well, I guess we’re about to find out.”
Right as he says it, Hunter slows the car to a stop, and fear manages to prickle up through my anger.
We’re parked in front of an old, rickety bridge that stretches across a river. It’s cold enough up in the hills that patches of snow cover the area and chunks of ice stick out from the shore and stretch out across the water.
I swallow hard. “Why are we here?”
Zay doesn’t utter a word as he shoves the door open and climbs out. Hunter silences the engine and follows Zay’s lead. Jax is the one to linger inside as he rotates in the seat to face me.
“You know, part of me wishes you would’ve just given him his damn seat,” he tells me. “You seem like a nice enough girl. A bit feisty, but not really in a bad way.” He assesses me for a beat. “Why didn’t you just give him his seat?”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t like being told what to do. And I don’t like arrogant jerks who think they always get their way and can walk all over everyone. I’m tired of it … Tired of getting pushed around.”
He studies me unnervingly. “Have you been pushed around a lot in your life?”
For reals? He wants me to open up to him?
“Does it really matter?” I ask. “If I tell you my sob story, is it gonna make you pity me enough to let me go?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“Okay, then let’s get this over with.” Mustering up every ounce of courage I have, I scoot to the edge of the seat then hop outside.
The air is way chiller up here than it was in town, and the space of flesh between my knee-highs and the hem of my shorts instantly dots with goosebumps. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself.
“Holy balls, it’s cold up here,” I mutter, my breath puffing from my lips in a cloud of smoke.
“Funny you think that, because in just a second, you’re going to remember this moment and the warmth.” Zay smiles at me coldly then unnecessarily reaches around me to shut the door.