Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
J
The Cross Boys have a habit of using their insane sex appeal, intimidating height, and shameless confidence to break their victims. They’re relentless, overpowering, and rule with an iron-fisted will.
I know it all.
Dutch Cross’s scare tactics included throwing Cadence over his shoulder—continuously— backing her up against the walls and lockers of the school, and pushing his hand up her skirt at will to make her understand, make her painfully aware that he owned her.
Zane was kinder at first, but he grew tired of chasing Grey around. She was decidedly cold to him, and in response, he began treating her cruelly. Closing classroom doors to feast on her, ordering her to meet him outside of school, letting her ride the edge of pleasure and discovery.
Why? To prove—even if she was the teacher and he was the student, the power imbalance was on his part. Not hers.
The Kings, like true royalty, do what they want, not because it’s right or wrong.
But because they can.
I know their games, their thoughts, their patterns better than they know themselves.
There was a seventy percent chance Finn would make a similar move with me. So I took my panties off when he insinuated that he expected my body in exchange for his presence.
Did I want to?
No.
It was an extreme move and completely against my character. But I knew it would turn him off completely.
The Cross brothers like a fight.
Not subservience.
They have enough girls eager to lick every inch of them. Having someone immediately roll on her back for their pleasure has little appeal.
I thought I could play the part of a thirsty fan without a hitch. I didn’t expect to feel so disgusted with myself. It wasn’t just that I exposed what was private. It was the pressure I put on myself to pull it off, to impress Finn, even though I have no feelings for him.
I’ve thought about my first time many times before. At nineteen, it’s par for the course that people my age are giving it up to their boyfriends.
With all the secrets I have in my possession, I’m more aware than most how depraved the world is. It’s difficult to ever truly know someone, especially when that someone is nineteen and barely at the start of their lives.
I always dreamed that my first time would be with my husband. He’d have a commitment to me, where only death would separate us. I would know all his secrets. He would know mine.
And it would be beautiful, precious.
Yet there I was, taking it off for someone who was not my husband and even worse, didn’t care about me at all.
Some part of me was scrambling to attribute a better meaning to the moment. Pathetic or not, it was better than admitting the truth. That I had become the pawn on my own chess board.
As the fabric fell down my upper thighs to my knees, I tried to ignore the wrongness of it.
The way the cold air ripped past my naked thighs.
The way I felt immediately objectified, like a piece of meat on the chopping block.
The way I wanted to bring my underwear back up and at the same time, knew that if I did it, if I touched that piece of fabric stretched between my legs… I lost.
My watch was screaming at me, but I couldn’t hear a thing.
The way Finn’s eyes slipped down my hospital gown and filled with horror at the sight of that scrap of plain, old cotton will scar me for life. I have never felt more undesirable than I did the moment his lips curled up in disgust and he pushed me away.
I didn’t want him to be my first either, but to have visual and verbal confirmation that I am not the girl that the sexiest guy on the band would want, stings.
I won the stupid game.
But at what cost?
Deep breaths, J. Put the bad feelings away. Fold them up like nice, little table napkins and put them in the box. There. There. All neat and tidy.
The watch remains silent.
My health isn’t what’s at risk.
It’s my pride that’s bruised.
When I get back to my room, I will burn that stupid underwear and every cotton panty that looks like it in a barrel of flames.
“Get in,” Finn snarls as the Uber drives up. His long legs catapult him to the other side of the car, and he ducks into it.
I hesitate a moment before I do as he instructed.
Finn is, understandably, disturbed by what just happened. He keeps his chilly, handsome face turned away from me. He was extra careful not to look at or touch me on the way down to the lobby of the hospital.
This is so awkward.
I did what had to be done. And, for all intents and purposes, it ended as well as it possibly could have. Finn rejected me, sure. But it’s not like I actually wanted to lose my virginity tonight.
If I’d miscalculated my opponent, if Finn actually wanted to throw me on the hospital bed, push my gown up, and climb over me…
I shudder, and the Uber driver notices.
“Hey, man. Is your girlfriend cold?” He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “I can turn down the air con.”
Finn is busy typing something on his phone, but I have a feeling that he wouldn’t have answered the driver whether he heard the question or not.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I correct the driver. “And I’m fine.”
The driver returns his attention to the road, and I rub my finger over the lump in my collarbone. Now that we’re moving farther and farther away from the hospital, I’m getting more nervous.
“Why do we need to go to Redwood?” I ask Finn.
He continues typing.
I touch him to get his attention, and he pulls away from me, his gaze sharpening. I can’t tell if he’s reacting like that because he thinks I want to sleep with him or because he thinks I’m crazy for attempting to do so while being so obviously turned off by it.
“Don’t touch me,” he snarls.
I raise both hands in the air, my lips inching up. He’s so obviously disturbed by what happened. And it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s mortified.
In fact, it makes me feel much better.
“I’m not the enemy, Finn. I told you I’m willing to help.”
His nostrils flare and he doesn’t respond.
Finn Cross is a bit more challenging than I thought he’d be, but everything is still going to plan. I haven’t given him anything to confirm his suspicions about who I am, and even if he doesn’t trust me, he needs me—or I wouldn’t be here.
“Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know—telling the police about your mom? The FBI has an entire department dedicated to cybersecurity. They might be able to find her now that we know she’s using an encrypted channel.”
Finn shifts his knees slightly so they’re touching mine. His cold, expressionless eyes slide over my body. “Why do you care so much?”
“I told you. I’m a—”
“Fan.” His voice is so cold that I feel like I went skinny dipping in a frozen lake. He drops his voice so the driver can’t hear. “Are you still wearing them?”
“Wearing what?”
His eyes zero in on my lap.
I realize what he’s referring to and sputter, “No, of course not. I threw them away after I changed.”
Finn’s expression doesn’t shift at all except for the slightest tightening of his jaw. “A real fan would have kept them,” he says matter-of-factly. “Or asked me to sign.”
I blink rapidly. He’s right. The Kings’ fans are obsessed, starstruck, and unusually eager to jump into bed with them.
I messed up.
“I didn’t want to be presumptuous, but since you don’t mind, I’ll mail them to you. Sign them later,” I mutter.
Amusement passes through Finn’s normally harsh brown eyes before he glances away.
My heart thrums in victory. I made him smile. Sure, I don’t like Finn, but how many girls can say that they made the ice prince smile not once but twice?
Focus, J.
There’s a reason millions of girls all over the world are fans of the broody bass player. His little bread crumbs of emotional breakthroughs are catnip. But I can’t let Finn’s charisma distract me. Based on his line of questioning, he’s decided that he wants to investigate me and the kidnappings.
That’s an unexpected turn of events. I thought Finn would be too distracted by the kidnappings or at least that he’d be too banged up from his bruised ribs to keep sniffing around who I am.
A severe miscalculation.
Perhaps Dutch would have focused on the bigger picture.
Perhaps Zane would have been more emotional.
But Finn is a different brother altogether. There’s no light behind his onyx-black eyes. He’s a monster who feels no guilt, no pain, no shame.
And that monster has his eyes on me.