Reign of Brayshaw (Brayshaw High #3) Read online

  Copyright © 2019 Meagan Brandy

  Reign of Brayshaw

  Brayshaw Series, Book Three

  Release Date: October 3rd, 2019

  All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No copyright infringement intended. No claims have been made over songs and/or lyrics written. All credit goes to original owner.

  Edited by: Ellie McLove, My Brother’s Editor

  Proofread by: Rosa Sharon, iScream Proofreading Services

  Cover Designer: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art

  Table of Contents

  Copyright © 2019 Meagan Brandy

  Dedication

  Synopsis:

  Dear Reader,

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Quick Note From The Author

  Stay Connected

  More by Meagan Brandy

  Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Dedication:

  To the weak, to the strong, to the hopeful.

  We are the same.

  Thank you for being you.

  Synopsis:

  “Trust only those who earn it.”

  A sentiment I follow without direction but holds more consequence than ever before.

  One decision, five lives, three futures.

  This is what’s at stake.

  One night, one choice, four broken Brayshaws.

  That is where we’re headed.

  Unless I stop it.

  I have to stop it.

  I have to remind him of what he’s chosen to forget.

  My town. My choice. My ending.

  Dear Reader,

  Reign of Brayshaw is book three in my Brayshaw series. In order to follow and enjoy this story, you must have read book one, Boys of Brayshaw High, and book two, Trouble at Brayshaw High, as this will pick up where the other left off. Thank you so much for reading!

  Find book one and two here:

  Boys of Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, book one)

  Trouble at Brayshaw High (Brayshaw, book two)

  “Boy,” Ms. Maybell calls, patting the seat beside her on the porch. “Come. Sit.”

  I listen. I always listen when she asks me to do something, if I don’t, she might decide she doesn’t want to stay here with us and go away like our moms did, like Dad says he has to soon.

  She pulls some candy from her sweater pocket, handing me a piece.

  She grins, moving her fingers to her lips. “Don’t tell your brothers.”

  I smile at her and quietly unwrap the caramel, popping it in my mouth.

  When Ms. Maybell’s smile slowly goes away, she turns, looking out at the big trees all around our home.

  We asked Dad if we could cut them down once so we could see if there were other kids around who might want to play with us, but he said no, that the trees were there for our protection. Like the high walls to a king’s castle, they protect us from others.

  Nobody ever comes here.

  It was us, our dad, Ms. Maybell, and the guy that loves to drive us around.

  Maybe after tomorrow, our first day at a real school, that would be different. We could make more friends and ask them to come over. We could swim or teach them how to play basketball.

  When Ms. Maybell sighs beside me, I look up at her.

  “Boy,” she says quietly. “Have you ever heard the tale of the Wolves?”

  I shake my head and she glances my way.

  She smiles a little. “You want to?”

  “Yes.”

  She stares at me for a few seconds and I almost wonder if I somehow got candy on my face, but then she starts talking.

  “Wolves are fast and strong, they hunt and eat creatures three times their size. In their world, they’re the predator.” Her eyes slide between mine. “And all others, bigger or smaller, are their prey.”

  “Really?” I ask, turning all the way toward her. “Did you know we’re gonna be wolves, Ms. Maybell? When we get to our school, at Brayshaw High, we’ll be wolves!”

  “You will,” she says quietly, lowering her head to mine.

  “Wait, Ms. Maybell, if wolves are predators, and if they’re faster and stronger than others who are bigger, does that mean people fear them?” I ask. “Will they fear us when we’re wolves?”

  “Yes, boy.” She nods. “They will, but not all will fear you.”

  “Even though we’re the strongest?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because wolves? They don’t work alone. They have a helper, one who leads them, helps them to their prey.”

  “Really?!”

  She smiles again but brings her finger to her lips and I clamp my hand over my mouth. “Yes.”

  “Who?!” I shout in a whisper.

  “A bird.”

  My head pulls back, my nose scrunching. “A bird?” I laugh.

  But Maybell doesn’t laugh. She nods. “A beautiful, black bird.”

  “A black bird...” I think out loud, snapping my finger when it comes to me. I look back to Maybell.

  “A raven.”

  “Yes,” she whispers. “A raven.”

  “But... why wouldn’t a raven be afraid of a wolf?”

  “A wolf may be stronger than a raven, but they need each other. The raven will call on the wolves. Where she flies, the wolves will follow. What she can’t touch, the wolves can. Where she’s too weak, the wolves are strong.”

  “So... they’re a team?”

  “They are.” Maybell looks to the sky. “Ravens are very special.”

  “How?”

  “Some say they’re godlike creatures.”

  “That’s weird.”

  She laughs, bumping her arm against me. “Maybe to you, child, but you’ll understand it one day.” She turns to me then. “One thing to remember about a raven, is they only have one mate in life.”

  “A mate?” My face scrunches up. “Like a husband or a wife?”

  “Yes.” Ms. Maybell nods. “Just like that. Once they choose, that’s it, for the rest of the raven’s life. Then, the two pick a territory where they stay and defend, fighting off all those who are seen as a threat to
their home.”

  “Just like Dad says we will defend ours when we’re big.”

  Ms. Maybell’s smile is sad. “Yes, boy, just like that.”

  “I can’t wait to tell my brothers. They’ll like this story.”

  “Oh, I bet they will.” She pats my knee, turning to look at me again. “But, it’s no story. It’s fate, just you wait and see.”

  My father’s eyes turn a shade of dark I’ve never seen.

  All these years we have followed his every move, stood tall with his presence in mind and fought for all he taught us to believe in.

  Family are the ones we chose.

  Loyalty is given where gotten.

  Trust only those who earn it.

  His words were engraved into our bones before we even understood the meaning, and we’ve lived and breathed them ever fucking since.

  Only one free pass was ever given, and without realization.

  To him.

  Instinctively, fully. With every fucking inch of who we are we believe in the man standing in front of us.

  Bad move on us?

  As if sensing my thoughts, our father’s eyes tighten with his form.

  I swear we stare at each other for a solid five minutes before he so much as blinks.

  Finally, he speaks.

  “No?” he repeats my last word. Slowly. Cautiously.

  Good, he’s getting it now.

  I don’t bother responding. He said Raven is the end, and no damn doubt about it, she is.

  But she’s my end.

  My everything.

  Above all. Before fucking all.

  Raven Carver, or shit, Raven Brayshaw will forever be at my side. Period.

  “I’m afraid this isn’t up for negotiation.” He eyes us carefully.

  “I’m afraid you’re dead fucking wrong.” Royce pushes forward.

  Our dad’s eyes slide to him, only to move directly back to me.

  “You’d go against me, for the girl?” He gives a mask of anger, but we’re his sons, so we see the truth. Nothing but distress and uncertainty stares back.

  He has no fucking clue. None. And, how could he? He hasn’t been here.

  “I don’t know what you expected to happen.” I give a slow shrug, shaking my head. “We feel like you know who we are, you say you do, but if that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” I level him with a hard look. “You may not have known what she became to us, I get none of your watchers could break it down for you in a way to make you understand, it’s some next level shit you have to witness up close to fully comprehend. Thing is, though, you’ve been up close, and you have seen, Dad. I know you have.

  “You’ve studied, dissected really, our every fucking move with her. You’ve caught all of Captain’s subtle shifts toward her when he senses she needs to feel him. You see how Royce clings to her, how his anger and need for a real connection drives him where she’s concerned, helping him to open parts none of us thought we’d see. We don’t even need to talk about me. You’re just like I am, you know a possessive asshole when you see one.

  “All the shit over the last few months, the way we grew as a unit. Stronger, bolder, fucking braver. She did this. She came in and reminded us without even speaking why we want this world. Why this town and lifestyle is important to us. We want what we were born for, Dad, what you groomed us for, the life you earned and promised to us, and we will have it.”

  “We told you.” Cap steps forward. “She’s not just some girl, never was, and now we know she was never meant to be.” He confirms the answer to our dad’s initial question – Raven comes first.

  “There’s a way around this,” I say what I’m one hundred fucking percent sure of. “And I’m bettin’ it’s a lot less messy than the route we’ll take.” I look to my brothers a moment before turning back to him. “Tell us what you know. If you don’t, we’ll find the answers ourselves, even if it means walking through you to do it.”

  “And you think you’re ready to hear it, hm?” he edges, and Royce cuts me a quick glance. “What if it’s more than you can handle?”

  “We can handle anything,” I answer.

  He nods, his eyes dropping to the floor before slowly returning to ours.

  “There is a way.” He speaks slow, a hint of resentment laced in his words. His features harden. “But I can promise you this, when I tell you, it will not serve as motivation. It will be a knowledge you wish you never asked for. The thought of it alone will haunt you at night, I swear it.”

  The conviction in his voice has the three of us pausing, our eyes briefly meeting before resolve is all that’s left.

  We’re ready.

  “Raven stays with us,” Royce declares. “Now, tell us what we need to do to make sure this happens.”

  Our dad pushes to his full height and leisurely walks around his desk. He lowers himself into the leather seat, casually leaning back.

  His eyes hold a hardened glare, but his hands lift as if to say simple. His words that follow are anything but.

  “Give them Zoey instead.”

  I groan, rolling over and slowly peel my eyes open.

  The sun has finally set and I blink to refocus.

  Slapping my hand beside me, I find Victoria is gone and Maddoc has yet to make his way in.

  The second I push up on my elbows, my head starts to pound, my stomach both growling and turning at the same time.

  Alcohol and being drugged by a dumb bitch doesn’t mix.

  I lick my dry lips, cringing at the bad taste in my mouth.

  “Uh, fuck.”

  I toss my blankets off and strip my bed bare – I was sweating like crazy. Thank God Maddoc’s not in here, I’m fucking disgusting.

  Clammy and queasy, probably have puke in my hair.

  Clothes in hand, I drag myself into the hall bathroom, locking the door behind me just in case Daddy Bray is still home and for some reason comes back this way.

  Why was he in Maddoc’s room?

  I sigh as the steaming water hits me, but my body is still so heavy, so I quickly wash my hair, leaving the conditioner in it, and plug the tub.

  I’ve never taken a bath before, but this oversized one is calling my name right now.

  The water on my feet is too hot when it’s pouring like it is, so I turn down the heat, grab some shampoo and pour it against the running water like you would in a bucket for a carwash. Instantly, the bubbles start forming.

  A small grin takes over my lips as I watch it fill, and finally, I lower myself into the warm water.

  I reach over, grab a towel from the rack and roll it up behind my head like a pillow.

  After a few minutes, the tub is full, so I turn off the water and close my eyes.

  Wow. This is the shit.

  My muscles instantly start to calm, the tautness vomiting created finally soothing out.

  It’s simple things like this people from my neighborhood will never experience. Not that this tub is any kind of simple, but still.

  Bathtubs, in general, aren’t something you find in low-grade trailers. We were lucky to have running water, let alone a working water heater.

  A few blocks from the trailer park, where the railroad tracks meet the highway, there’s a small truck stop with showers.

  The city keeps the water running for the sinks and toilets and things, so a cold shower is free, but you can pay extra for heat. A lot of the people from the park go there to clean up and fill jugs for drinking. Wheeling it back is a pain in the fucking ass, but most have shopping carts or beat up strollers stashed behind their places for shit like that. Of course, cans or random shit found along the way that could potentially bring in money was priority over water.

  I smile to myself at the thought of Gio making it out of there.

  He was good to me, would hang out in the broken train carts until my mom’s louder clients would leave. I would never invite him in, though.

  He may have only been older than me by a few years, but that didn
’t stop her from trying to entice him.

  I told her he was gay once when she wouldn’t let up, kept trying to convince me it was time for me to ‘grow up’ – she wanted me fucking my friend at eleven years old – but she said his sexual preference didn’t matter, that he was still a horny boy who would love the feel of his dick inside a “fresh vagina.” Sick bitch.

  Wait...

  I try and shake off the thought, but it’s useless and already growing deeper.

  Ever since the day I started my period in fifth grade, my mother would push and push and push, constantly hounding me about being a prude.

  She’d tell me to “get it over with already” talking about my virginity, said hanging on to it so tight would only cause me problems later.

  She failed to see I wasn’t holding on to anything – I was simply a fucking kid who wanted no part of the things I hated her for.

  I knew what she was doing, saw people fucking on movies and even on picnic tables or in backseats of cars in our lot.

  Grown men would walk out of her room naked, not sparing me a glance – if I was lucky – as they’d come fish a beer or what the fuck ever from the mini-fridge, so I’d seen dick before, pussy, too, for that matter.

  I was disgusted by it.

  The sounds they’d make, the smells. The way they acted as if my mother was a fucking queen while their wives or husbands sat at home probably wondering where the fuck their partners were. Betrayal and disregard for any and everything around.

  So, no. Sex wasn’t something I wanted.

  For a long time I saw sex as a tool for manipulation, and I had no reason to use it. It wasn’t until I was desperate to erase what I knew sex to be, dirty and shameful, painful, that I was interested.

  Crazy thing about all the shit popping up, my mom trading me for money in her pocket doesn’t surprise me in the least. There were tons of times I thought she would, and honestly, if it didn’t offend her when her men would make sleazy comments about me, she probably would have.

  Or maybe not since I was technically already owned by another – bought by a rich man who posed as a commoner, who used to bring me ice cream and movies to keep me busy while he spent an hour in my mother’s room, supposedly talking about me. A man I knew to be good as far as good went in my world, who gave me my knife for protection before he was gone, only to make his way back into my life as my man’s dad eleven years later.