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“That asshole better not be coming back,” Asher growls, so Cyrus turns us so we can stare out of the window again. But it’s not the cop. No, it’s an Aston Martin rolling up to our drive. The gates open and it drives up the middle. The windows are blacked out, so we can’t see who it is until the lights turn on when the passenger side door opens.
“Meredith,” Bray snarls.
But sitting at her side is a random, rich-looking bastard, and I actually groan when she leans in and kisses him. “Not a surprise,” I mutter. “But damn if I didn’t wish we recorded this to show your dad. He deserves better, and honestly, I want revenge.”
“We could get it,” Asher offers and then turns to Bray. “The cameras cover that section, right?”
“They sure do.”
“Wait... you have cameras out there? So you watch me?” I demand, glaring down at Cyrus because he’s the closest.
“Damn right we do. I particularly like it when you bend over to clean your car,” he rumbles, making me smirk even as I try to remain mad at them, but it’s hard. They are like naughty little boys... just, erm, full-grown men.
Cyrus takes my hand, ignoring Meredith, and guides me through the house to a room I never noticed before. There’s a keypad where he scans his hand, and when we step inside, I gawk. It’s like a security room from a TV show, with screens covering a full wall and a desk before it with a computer. There are bright neon lights around it, and a small fridge in the corner—proof that someone is in here monitoring the feeds sometimes. It makes me wonder what they have seen of me, and I can’t help but grin wider. Cyrus grabs the huge leather chair and slumps into it before pulling me into his lap. His hands grip my hips and pull me back until I feel his hardness pressed against my ass.
It’s a reminder of what he wants to do to me at all times. Something I’m perfectly fine with.
“Asher,” he commands with a wink as Asher logs into the computer. “He’s better at this than us. I bet if you ask, he would admit to watching you through the cameras when you didn’t know. Especially in the shower, showing off those impressive curves. I wish I had thought of it,” he murmurs into my ear. His voice is like a smooth whisky, going straight to my clit and making it throb as I shift on his lap. He chuckles at my movement.
Placing a kiss on my jumping pulse, he begins playing with my hair as we wait, as if he didn’t just get me wet and ready as I stare at Asher, wondering if he really has watched me... and if he liked it.
Focus, Blair. Revenge time.
Ignoring Cyrus’s very hard reminder of what I could be doing instead, I concentrate on the screens that flash to cameras, all focused on every inch inside and outside of the property. “Paranoid much?” I laugh.
“Prepared so no one hurts what’s ours. This is just a deterrent. If they get inside, the cameras are the least of their worries, especially if we turn them off so no one will ever know what happened to them.” Bray smirks, and there’s a dark look in his gaze I would usually associate with Cyrus. It makes my eyes widen, even as my pussy clenches at the promise of violence.
Fuck me, these Crew boys don’t play around.
It makes me wonder what they have gotten away with, but it also makes me sad. I could have used them... before. Maybe they could have saved the old me, saved all of us from what happened. But then I wouldn’t be here with them. I wouldn’t have met Faye or got my job—and that’s when I realise for the first time that my past had to happen so I could be here, could be me.
I grieve what occurred and wish it could have gone down differently—it was a tragic waste of life—but it wasn’t my fault, and sometimes life throws you things you don’t think you can survive just to prove you can. It doesn’t mean I don’t miss them or I’m not heartbroken and messed up over what happened…
It just means I’m finally starting to heal.
Thanks to them.
“Okay, how much evidence do we want? Just from today or as much as we can get?”
“Today, then we can go from there,” Cyrus suggests, making the decision for me. I nod, and Asher returns to the footage. On the screen is a frozen image of Meredith coming in the front door. He rewinds it a bit but goes too far and the screen turns black.
“What happened?” I ask, leaning forward.
Frowning, Asher types in a few things. “It’s a hole in the recordings. Strange, only we should be able to do that.”
“Maybe it was Meredith,” I joke, and Bray laughs. Asher nods, but he seems uncertain. With a mumble and a shake of his head, he forwards it to the car coming into the driveway and downloads it.
“Okay, one second, then it should be in your email,” he says, typing away.
“What are you going to do with it?” Cyrus queries.
“I might tell her I have it and see what she says. If she’s an asshole, I might just send it to your dad.” I shrug.
“She’ll be an asshole, you know that.” Cyrus snorts, kissing my neck again. “Just send it now. You don’t owe her anything, Blair.”
He’s right, I don’t. She never protected me, not from the prying, persecuting eyes, the judgement, the harassment. She never comforted me or gave me a choice, moving me across the fucking country to escape it. She’s never given a fuck about me, even when my dad died. No, all I am to her is a nuisance, and she makes that blatantly obvious. I could be the better person and give her a chance, but she already showed her hand when she brought my past up at the table. No, we are already deep in the game, and I just fucking got checkmate.
Raising my phone, I watch the footage before forwarding it to their dad’s email with Asher included with the video. “There.” I smirk. She deserves this, I know, after all the terrible things she’s done to me and others. But as I sit back, I wonder if revenge is really the way. It won’t change anything, and she might try to leave again, but this time, I wouldn’t be going.
