Break Me Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Meagan Brandy

  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: My Brother’s Editor

  Proofread by: My Brother’s Editor Team

  Proofread by: Lisa Salvucci

  Cover Designer: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art

  Photographer: Miguel Chazo

  Cover Model: Sergio Carvajal

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  Contents

  Playlist

  Synopsis

  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

  Keep reading for…

  Note From The Author

  Free First Chapter

  More by Meagan Brandy

  Acknowledgments

  Stay Connected

  About the Author

  Playlist

  Small Doses – Bebe Rexha

  Like That – Bea Miller

  Paralyzed – NF

  Sweet Little Lies – Bulow

  Yes Girl – Bea Miller

  Half a Man – Dean Lewis

  You’re Special – NF

  Power Over Me – Dermot Kennedy

  Back To The Start – SoMo

  TiO – ZAYN

  Consequences (orchestra) – Camila Cabello

  Heaven – Julia Michaels

  Addicted – Saving Abel

  Listen today on Spotify:

  https://geni.us/BreakMePlaylist

  Dedication

  To those walking in darkness, may you find your North Star, and one day feel the light.

  Synopsis

  I had a plan, and it was solid.

  Track down what was hidden away and take pleasure in toying with it.

  Toying with her.

  It worked like a charm.

  Until it didn’t.

  Turned out, the feisty little thing I found was far from what I hoped for.

  She was different from all I knew and more than I expected.

  She was light, and I’m the bastard who led her into darkness.

  But this girl... she followed with a smile.

  I told her I break pretty things.

  She asked me to promise.

  —

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  Prologue

  Tension lines my forehead, a heavy throbbing taking over not only my head, but my entire body. I try for a full, deep breath, but my lungs refuse my desperate plea.

  The fiercely pumping blood and heavy pounding heart should clue me in to what’s coming, but I ignore the warning, stuck in a nightmare of my own making.

  Someone’s scream roars around us, but I can’t say who it comes from. It’s a deep, cavernous sound that sends panic across the room and ice through my every vein.

  I’m stuck, frozen, knowing the move to follow before it’s even made.

  It’s the last-ditch effort, the one that leads to the end, right here in this very spot.

  Everyone else understands it, too.

  The body behind me grows rigid, the shadow to the right now creeping closer, a dark and haunting chill charging the air around us.

  I’m suddenly spun, rushed toward the door and shoved through it.

  I pretend to go easily, but slip away, sliding on my feet and darting around the far side of the room.

  The eyes trailing me shoot wide, and I’m lunged at, but I’m already too far gone.

  I intend to approach them from the side, to bring life back to the dead eyes bound to find mine, but as I get closer, no more than two spaces away, the inevitable sears my soul.

  It hurts, stings, but only for a second and then ...

  Nothing.

  Chapter 1

  Brielle

  He thinks he’s sly, laying back in the seat of a car that can’t possibly be his, playing PI, and sucking at it.

  I mean, come on. He sits in plain sight, laughing and chatting with the guy behind the wheel, smoking on something he definitely didn’t buy here, while he waits for what, me?

  For some sort of grand exit where I’ll flip my hair over my shoulder and push my chest out, paint my lips bright and do my best dirty work to draw him right in, all the while he’ll be laughing in his mind, planning the move he’ll then make on his friends little sister.

  No, that’s not it.

  He’s parked directly in front of my aunt’s house with the windows rolled down and doing nothing to hide the sound or smell coming from the vehicle.

  He doesn’t think he’s sly.

  He simply doesn’t care, because he knows he’s untouchable, it’s written in the way he pushes the passenger door open and steps out into the murky air with the ease of a rogue rebel.

  This guy, he comes from a place so far from this one it’s not even funny.

  Here, teenagers get drunk on tailgates on dirty riversides. They camp out and are welcomed home the morning after by loving mothers and fathers with smiles and biscuits and gravy. They fight over girls or guys or whose fault it was for the points scored by their rival teams from the night before’s game. Simple, everyday stuff.

  The world he comes from, teenagers are a thing of the past, the parties at mansions, parents irrelevant, and the fights far crueler. It’s a town founded and ran by an ethically challenged power family, void of a justice system.

  No, that’s wrong, too.

  There is a justice system, and it consists of three rough and ruthless eighteen-year-olds.

  Three adopted siblings born for a purpose greater than those on the outside could ever understand.

  The brothers of Brayshaw.

  One of which is sitting outside my house this very instant, waiting.

  It won’t kill him to wait a little longer...

  Royce

  Scanning the fenceless houses of the tattered block, I step into the large open grassy area, and bring myself closer to the one with the rickety back door and busted ass blinds.

  There’s a random bench dropped in the center of the yard, so I plant my ass onto the old, splintered wood.

&
nbsp; “Why are you sitting in my back yard staring at my house?”

  I hop right the fuck back up, spinning to glare at the mini-chick raising her brows at me.

  I don’t say shit as I eye her, and she crosses her arms, popping a hip out while she waits. The girl can’t be more than, fuck, I don’t know. Five-foot max. Maybe.

  Fucking tiny.

  Kinda mousy, sunglasses hiding her eyes from sight.

  I hop over the bench, pushing toward her, and her chin lifts to the sky—the only way she’s able to keep hers on mine—but she doesn’t inch away.

  “Why are there no fences around to keep people like me out? To stop me from staring at your house?” I counter.

  “Because this place is as safe as safe can be.”

  “No such thing, baby girl.”

  “The worst that happens here is Tom Marvel down the street waters his yard on even days instead of odd.” Her mouth gapes as she mocks shock, tilting her head.

  So she’s a brat.

  I glare. “Sounds like a good time.”

  “Bunches.”

  “You said you live here?”

  She slips her thumb around the straps of her backpack. “I did.”

  I flick my gaze over her form. “All five-foot of you?”

  She straightens her spine, gaining a whole extra inch, but before anything else can be said, the heavy creak of old metal, followed by a quick slam of a screen has both our heads snapping toward the sound.

  A slow smirk spreads across my lips as I take in the sight.

  Thick, dark hair, long and lengthy with pasty-ass skin.

  There she is.

  The picture of payback.

  A perfect knockoff of her punk-ass brother.

  “Ah, now it makes sense,” the short chick says.

  “What, how you’re cramping my style, wasting my time and your breath?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the target as she lights a cigarette, bringing it to her red painted lips.

  Her head turns this way the second she pulls it from her mouth, and slowly she blows out a long line of smoke, zeroing in on me and the mouse.

  She waits, but so do I.

  Here kitty, kitty...

  She pretends to be chill, but can’t handle it, and forces herself to take slow strides this way.

  “You can go now,” I tell the girl at my side, but she doesn’t move, and quickly my mark is stepping in front of me.

  “Cousin,” she drags out, but neither of us bother looking her way. “Who’s your friend?”

  Her sexy smirk makes its appearance.

  It’s a good one, too. Little too confident, but it’s all good.

  I can kill that, easy. Besides, this would be a lot more difficult if she were unsure about herself—groundwork would have to be laid before the girl could be.

  “Not my friend,” short girl shares, her tone all peppy and shit as she adds, “He’s here for you, actually.”

  At that, a saucy grin grows as if she already figured so.

  This shit will be too fucking easy.

  I shouldn’t play with my food, but what am I to do when it so clearly wants to play back?

  I push closer, coming almost eye level with her and her focus falls to the tattoos on my neck. “I got an hour before reality comes crashing down, Brielle. What are you gonna do with it?”

  She studies me a long moment and then turns to the cockblocker.

  Her demeanor shifts, a small twist edging her lips. “Think you can keep yourself outside a little longer?”

  The animosity isn’t missed.

  “Do I ever come in when you take over?” short chick replies.

  Brielle grins, and just like that, leads me right where she wants me.

  Toward her bedroom.

  The house is neat, almost sterile, and a huge fuckin’ contrast to her room, which is a damn mess. There’s shit all over, and the bed’s unmade.

  I glare at the mattress sitting on the floor, about ready to walk out and drag her ass with me, but then the girl starts to strip.

  So, I plant my ass, and I let her put on a little show.

  I may be a guy, one who loves to fuck, gives as good as he gets and all that, but I don’t do desperate, and it seems she’s borderline just that.

  I came here for a reason, though, so I lean back on my hands and let her do as she pleases, which happens to be me.

  With her breasts hanging bare, tight-ass pants still on, she steps toward me, and drops to her knees. She frees my cock from my jeans and wastes no time pulling me deep into her throat.

  It’s not the way I like it, I need a little lead-up, like to build that heavy tension that gets my blood pumpin’, cock twitchin’, and mind racing. Need my girl wet and ready, desperate for the first touch of the night and ready for more, fuckin’ needy. Greedy.

  This girl allowed time for none of that, so all I can do is watch her work.

  A minute or two ticks by and then she’s moaning around my shaft. Finally, my hard-on grows just shy of a full salute.

  I tether my hands in her hair to give her a bit more drive, and it works. She picks up some speed, tightens her lips around me more, and I tip my head back a bit, trying to fall into the moment more, but as my eyes glide by the window, I fucking freeze.

  The cousin, as she called her, peeks through the torn blinds, her head dropping when she realizes she’s been caught and suddenly she’s gone.

  A heavy crash and quiet yelp follows.

  “The fuck?” I snap, freeing myself and jumping to my feet.

  I’m soft in an instant, quickly shoving myself into my jeans, and rush out the door. “She better not have been recording.”

  Footsteps pound the linoleum floor at my back.

  “Please,” Brielle scoffs, hiding her naked chest with her hands as we push out onto the porch.

  The girl is hopping from the ground as we step out, limping on her foot a little as she hurries around the house.

  “You better chase after her,” Brielle pipes up.

  I cut my head over my shoulder, glaring at her. “And why the fuck would I do that?”

  She smirks, walking backward into the house. “Because that... is Brielle. I’m her cousin, Ciara.”

  My muscles lock, and she laughs, shaking her head as she closes the door in my face.

  Motherfucker!

  I leap over the railing, running after the little sneak.

  “Yo!” I shout.

  The real Brielle picks up her pace, bouncing all around as she tries to keep weight off of her left foot, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m already right behind her.

  “Why’d you let me think she was you?”

  She scoffs. “It’s not my fault you assumed I was the taller, hotter, easier of the two of us.”

  I grip her by the arm, halting her movement and she tips her head back, eyes still hidden behind her big-ass shades.

  I glare, opening my mouth to tell her, I don’t know the fuck what, when she crosses her arms again, catching me off guard.

  “I know who you are.”

  I shoot up straight. “Yeah, and who am I?”

  “Royce Brayshaw, of the Brayshaw family.” She doesn’t miss a beat.

  I run my tongue along the backs of my teeth. “And who are you, so we’re clear?”

  She reaches a hand out and I frown from it to her.

  “Oh sorry, right. You’re silver-spooned.” She tips her head. “This is called a pleasantry; many people use them.”

  “Your name, smart-ass.”

  Her hip pops out. “Shake my hand.”

  I hold in a growl, slapping my palm against hers, and she gives it a good, solid, squeeze.

  “It’s good to finally meet one of you, in the flesh.” She passes her tote over to her other shoulder with a slight shrug. “Anyway, you already know who I am.” She pauses. “Well, now anyway.”

  “Your name, from your lips, not that… whoever the fuck that was.”

  My jaw tics as I wait for her to speak.
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  She doesn’t, so I creep closer.

  “Don’t play games with me, girl.”

  “Right...” She pulls her lips in, nodding. “‘Cause Brayshaw.”

  My head tugs back, and even though I can’t see ‘em, I imagine this little shit rolls her damn eyes at me.

  She looks to her watch and my annoyances are about at the fuck shit up now, figure the rest of later level.

  “Whatever,” she huffs. “I’m Brielle Bishop, and I’m late.”

  She turns around and walks away.

  Leaves.

  Yeah… I don’t fuckin’ think so.

  I chase her ass.

  Brielle

  Oh my shit, one of my brother’s psycho bosses is following me, and not just any of his bosses.

  It’s the hot, kind of scary, I’m going to liquefy you with my dark and daring eyes and maybe even by accident, playboy one I’ve heard so much about, but have never actually stood toe to toe with before today, is right freaking behind me, watching as I hobble around like I’m lame, probably picking me apart from his place at my back as he does.

  So, okay.