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Chapter Twenty Two
Bray
Iwatch her move up the stairs, leisurely, as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, but her back is hunched in pain and anger, her hands are fisted at her sides... and I saw her face.
Devastated, hurt, scared.
It reminded me of my own, reminded me of just what we used to go through with our mother. Maybe that’s why I move towards the kitchen, escaping Cyrus’s arm as he tries to stop me. I find her there drinking wine. Meredith, Dad’s new plaything. The gold digger, as Blair calls her. Is she right? She seems like the type, and she wouldn’t be the first to try to sleep her way to my dad’s money. Fuck, even our mum did. It doesn’t help that the fool will fall for anyone with a nice smile and a pair of tits.
She sneers as she scans me. “What the fuck do you want?”
My eyebrow arches at that. “You are awfully cocky for someone living in my house.”
“Your house?” She snorts, standing taller. “Kid, this is your dad’s—”
“No, it really isn’t.” I grin. “We bought it off him once we realised he couldn’t be trusted to protect his own investments. So, you see, you are standing in my house and insulting me.”
“Rather rude, don’t you think, brother?” Asher calls, striding into the room and looking her over, his lips turned down in displeasure. He hates when women are upset, and he seems to have a fondness for our stepsister, not that I can blame him. He likes to play the hero, likes to protect them.
“You’re lying,” she hisses and knocks back her wine, grabbing the bottle to top it up. “Now get the fuck out of my face before I tell your father about your spoiled, rich asses.”
Cyrus is there then, grabbing the wine bottle and holding it so quickly she doesn’t even have time to move. Her eyes widen as he leans into her, his intimidating eyes dark and angry. Cyrus towers above her as she teeters on her high heels and fancy clothes. Her expensive guise can’t cover the rot inside of her. It leaks from her in waves, no wonder Blair hates her. It does make me question what happened though. Her mother said something about her past.
Not that it’s any of my business, or my brothers’ either, but we aren’t letting the insults to our new stepsister slip by. Not in our own house. It seems we have chosen a side, and it happens to be hers, which makes Meredith our new enemy.
“I would watch your tone,” Cyrus purrs, “and remember your place. You are nothing more than a hole for our father to stick his dick into. Once he grows tired of you, he will toss you right back onto your fake plastic ass, and you’ll have to return to tricking men for money again. Don’t get comfortable.”
She shivers under the menace and stumbles away, but Asher is there, his arms crossed, blocking her path. “And leave Blair alone. You clearly hate her, so just stay away.”
“You’re protecting her?” She laughs hysterically, turning to face us. “You are protecting that cunt of a daughter of mine?”
“Tone,” I remind her. “I don’t take kindly to those insulting family.”
“She’s not family!” Meredith screams. “You don’t even fucking know her.” She shakes her head. “I should have guessed she would fuck all three of you for protection and money. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—”
That’s when Cyrus moves. It’s a controlled movement, a quick slap that has her recoiling into the nearest counter. He barely used any force, his hands clenched as he steps back.
It was a warning, a threat.
“If you want to survive us, Meredith,” I sneer, pushing away from the counter and stopping before her, “then follow our rules, or the only place you will find yourself is legs up in a shallow grave.” Leaning in, I bring my mouth to her ear, and disgust fills me at being so close to the poisonous bitch. “We’ll be watching. Play nice, won’t you?” I turn, and Cyrus smashes the bottle in the sink as we all leave, trooping up the stairs. She can stew and think on our words.
They were not empty promises.
They were facts.
We’ve just claimed Blair as ours to protect, and we protect ferociously and permanently.
* * *
Once upstairs, we split into our rooms. Cyrus is undoubtedly wondering why he went along with our act. Asher is no doubt drawing Blair from tonight or jerking off to her. Me, I hesitate in the hallway after changing into some comfy shorts. I stare at her closed door. She clearly doesn’t want to talk to us or even be near us...
But everyone needs someone at some point. Maybe it’s the fact that the look in her eyes as she ran up those stairs is burned into my brain. Maybe it’s the fact that I know that pain, that I might just know Blair better than anyone after seeing those ghosts in her eyes... I place my hand on the handle and take a deep breath.
If I go in there, if I cross that line, there is no going back. I’m letting her in, comforting her. It’s something Crew doesn’t do, but we just claimed her in front of Meredith. That means something to me. It means this might have started as some fun or even a game, but now, Blair is our responsibility. She’s hurting, so despite the fact I would never usually give a fuck, I swing the door open and step inside, shutting it behind me.
The room is dark, the only light provided by some streetlights coming in through the open curtains. I spot her in her bed, curled into a ball.
“I swear to God, Bray, get the fuck out of my room,” she snaps.
