Don’t You Pucking Dare (The Blackridge Reapers #2)

Chapter 27

I run until my legs give out, but I can't escape the images—men dropping like marionettes with cut strings, blood painting stone walls, my father's life draining onto the floor. The mansion's opulent halls blur as my stomach revolts again. I collapse, barely registering the expensive carpet I'm ruining.

Brody appears like a shadow, gathering my hair back as I retch. My hands find his chest, trying to push him away, but my arms feel like water. Everything hurts—my head pounding from whatever drugs they used, my throat raw from screaming, my heart shattered into pieces I can't count.

"Please." The word comes out broken. "Leave me alone." He wipes vomit from my face with gentle hands that hours ago held instruments of torture. "Just go. Leave me alone!" Tears burn tracks down my cheeks, hysteria rising like a tide.

His fingers cup my face, forcing me to look at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Something snaps inside me. My tears dry up, replaced by a rage that tastes like blood. "Don't." My voice shakes. "Don't you fucking dare play protector now. You don't get to be my hero when you chose to be my villain."

He pulls me to my feet like I weigh nothing. "I told you everything would make sense in the morning."

"No!" I shove against his chest, but my body betrays me—too weak from the night's horrors to fight him. He lifts me into his arms, and I hate how safe it feels, how my body remembers trusting him before I knew what he was capable of.

He carries me through a bedroom I barely register, into a bathroom. Steam rises as he starts the water, the sound of running water almost drowning out the echo of gunshots in my head.

When he reaches for the disgusting clothes on my body, I flinch away. But his touch is different now—gentle, careful, nothing like the man who hurt me in that chamber.

"You––" My voice cracks, high and broken. "Made me trust you, then—" The words catch in my throat as he eases the ruined top from my shoulders.

He tests the water temperature, adjusts it without looking at me. Like he can't face what he's done. "There's more to this than you know, Duchess." The nickname hits like a blade. "But right now, you need medicine and rest. The truth..." He finally meets my eyes. "The truth will only hurt worse."

His hands hover over the last of my clothes, waiting for permission. I hate that even now, covered in blood and vomit and betrayal, part of me wants to let him take care of me.

I stand naked before him, but his eyes hold nothing but regret. My arms cross over my chest as I step into the shower and wash off the worst day of my life.

Brody washes my hair, takes the loofa, and scrubs my body, and then he shampoos my hair again, followed by conditioner.

When I’m done, our eyes meet. "Tell me everything," I ask. Another tear tracks down my cheek. "And my mom—I need to know she's safe."

"I'll have someone check on her." He hands me a towel, which I wrap around myself like a shield. "You deserve the truth about tonight."

"Now, Brody." My voice stronger than I feel. "Tell me right now."

"Rick Kemper was running—" He stops, watching my face crumble.

I hope he doesn’t say it. I pray that my mom’s stories don’t align with this truth. The truth rises like bile in my throat. My mom… I start to sob. My poor mom that I love more than I love myself. I’m only here in this world because Rick Kemper is a fucking monster, her demon that chased her around for my entire life. My life was his mockery. I have his last name because she needed him to know that what he was doing was wrong. I was his curse, and he’s why she turned to drugs to escape her own skin, why she'd wake up screaming some nights. I'd always thought her paranoia was the drugs talking. But it was the trauma, it was too much for her. She couldn’t handle it.

My legs give out. Brody catches me before I hit the floor, but I'm already shattering. Sobs tear through me, violent and unstoppable. He holds me against his chest as I break apart, my bare skin pressed against his shirt, but nothing matters except this tsunami of truth.

He hasn’t even said the word, hasn’t even confirmed it, but I feel it in my bones, it’s been the reason why I feel like I never belonged here, why I questioned my own existence, an unwanted life.

The reason why I’m alive is because my sperm donor did the unthinkable to my mother, and he kept feeding her drugs to keep her quiet. I lean over the toilet and vomit.

Mom's addiction, her fears, her warnings about men who seem too good to be true—it was all because of what he did to her. What he did to countless others. And I carry his blood in my veins. I retch again as Brody holds me. I thought something was wrong with me for liking the darkness, but apparently that’s where I come from.

"Are you okay, Lola?" Brody asks, bringing me back to earth. Right now my mind is racing through my memories, confirming all my fears that I shouldn’t be here. I was a mistake. A forced upon mistake.

"I shouldn’t be here," I cry. My chest bounces as sobs leave my chest. "I shouldn’t fucking be here. He’s a fucking monster!"

Brody pulls me into him and holds me.

I plead, "Don’t fucking say it. It’s my nightmare, Brody. Please."

"Shh, Duchess. I got you, okay? You’re safe. You’re safe, baby. I got you."

My face is nestled on his chest as he holds me. The raw reality is caught in my throat as I focus on the sound of his heartbeat. It’s racing as his big hands start massaging my back. My entire body aches.

He whispers, "You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere."

He rests his chin on the top of my head as tears stream down my face. I cling onto the towel wrapped around me. I hear heavy footsteps and then the bathroom door swings open.

Caleb barges in and then retreats back out. "Shit! Sorry. Brody, we gotta go. Pack your shit. There’s not a lot of time."

Brody releases me. "What’s going on?"

"Don’t leave anything behind. They’re coming." He steps around the corner and meets my eye. "You need to come with us."

"I need clothes," I argue.

He shakes his head. "Rick Kemper is dead which means––"

My gut twists because I know how this goes. "They’re coming after us."

He nods. "Noah has a place. We’ll be protected."

I inhale, not worried about classes because it’s the start of fall break. Looks like we’ll be hiding out for the next week.