“Mitch says you did.”
“Do I look like I give a shit what Mitch said?”
The squeak of a rocking chair. “You know the consequence for stealing, don’t you, son? We expel kids for that around here.”
“Go ahead. Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Mr. Dagon sighed a rough sound. “I’m just trying to help you here. Confess what you did, apologize, and I’ll give you a second chance. I know you’ve had it rough.”
The boy huffed. “You don’t know anything. None of you do. Don’t pretend like you give a crap about us.”
There was so much anger in his words. Faith was sure that kind of anger had to physically hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could shield herself from having to listen to it.
From feeling it.
Experiencing it.
Because right then, she was sure she could. She could feel that ragged boy’s pain. It was breaking on every lash of his tongue.
More squeaking of the office chair, and Faith’s nerves gathered right at the base of her throat. She shouldn’t have kept listening, but she felt desperate . . . desperate to know what would happen next.
The principal sighed. “Fine. I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt. This one time. But the next time you end up in my office, I’m not going to go so easy on you.”
She barely made out the sound of surprise, the boy’s voice so quiet when he said, “Thank you, sir.”
She thought she could physically feel the anger drain from the space.
A breath taken.
A break given.
She was shaking when the boy appeared in the doorway again. His face was contorted in a way that twisted her up on the inside. Agony and regret. Grief and guilt.
So much guilt.
As if he thought he were dirty.
She could feel it—the shame radiating off him.
He lurched to a stop when he saw her, as frozen as she was before he jerked away and his expression morphed into one of pride and indifference.
She was pretty sure it was the fakest demonstration she’d ever seen.
He blew out the door. The heavy glass and metal banged shut behind him.
She didn’t even know what in the world she thought she was doing as she haphazardly shoved the rest of the files into the drawer, feeling frantic as she gathered her things and flew out the door behind him five minutes before she was supposed to leave.
He was already gone when she raced out into the deserted outdoor courtyard, fifth period still in session.
The enclosed area was lined by classrooms, and a bunch of concrete tables took up the grassy space in the middle.
She exhaled heavily, air puffing into her bangs on a sigh of defeat and frustration. It was stupid, anyway, chasing him out there.
She slung her backpack over her shoulder and started for the restroom, figuring she probably should soak up the sweat that had gathered on her brow before the bell rang and she headed to her next class.
She trudged up the narrow walkway and started to turn the corner, only to stumble a step when she heard the quieted voices coming from the backside of the building.
Holding her breath, she inched that way, pressing her back to the brick wall as she was hit with another rush of that fear.
That warning fluttering through her insides as if it were carried on wings, which was kind of funny, considering there was no chance she could turn away.
She felt drawn.
Compelled.
Curious in a way that wrapped her heart in a bow of despair.
She peeked around the corner.
The boy was there with another who looked almost identical to him.
Only maybe a little bit younger.
The younger boy was stuffing that sandwich in his mouth and crying at the same time, groaning as he devoured it, as if it’d been weeks since he’d eaten.
Everything inside her clenched in sympathy as the pieces snapped together.
That was the same second the older boy snapped those copper eyes her direction.
Shackling her to the spot.
Glaring with that same hatred and shame. Darkening with the dare. Sure she was going to run and tell.
Her ribs clamped down painfully, and she blinked at him, wishing her mouth would work, knowing she wouldn’t know what to say anyway.
Eight
Jace
“You went over there after I told you to lie low?” Mack scowled at me as he slammed a stack of papers onto the desk and flung himself into the chair beside me where we were meeting at Ian’s office.
My brother Ian laughed and rocked back in his executive rocker, taking a pull from the tumbler he’d just poured a finger of whiskey into. “You didn’t actually think he was going to listen to you, did you?”
I shot a glare at my brother. Thanks a lot, asshole. Thought we always had the other’s back?
Ian’s brown hair was styled impeccably, face clean-shaven, sleeves of his button-down rolled up his forearms, exposing the ink he normally kept hidden beneath his suit.
My brother, who was just eleven months younger than me, was a dichotomy of rough and smooth. Sharp tongue and charming words. He could be the guy next door if it weren’t for that quiet layer of intimidation that was scary as fuck.
I guessed he’d learned from the best.
“And you knew this how?” I asked, voice dry as I sipped from my own glass of whiskey, looking from Ian back to Mack.
“My job is to know who’s going onto her property, wouldn’t you think?” Mack demanded.
I gave a short shrug. “Didn’t come here to sit on my damned hands.”
“I’m pretty sure Jace here has all kinds of good ideas for his hands.” This from Ian, that punk.
“I’m helping her with the house. No secret the place has become a fucking shithole. Falling down around her. Plus, I can keep an eye on things. It’s a win-win.”
I said it like it didn’t matter all that much.
Like going there in the middle of the night last night hadn’t been one of the hardest things I’d ever done. And still, it’d felt like instinct. Breathing. So goddamned natural there was no place else I could have gone.
I’d basically stuck around all night, leaving only long enough to go pick up the supplies I’d needed.
“A win-win for who?” Mack raised a brow.
“Her. You. That kid.” Nearly choked on the last.
“And what about you?” Concern had made its way into Mack’s voice.
“Doesn’t matter what I feel. Owe them.”
I deserved every punishment and penalty coming my way.
“That so?”
No doubt, Mack worried I was going to go over the deep end. Get myself into trouble and drag him right into it with me.
“Yup.”
Mack shook his head, and Ian laughed under his breath, words cynical. “Well, aren’t you a regular humanitarian. You should start a charity in your name.”
He took another sip, muttering under his breath, “God knows, you’ve been giving all your dough to lowlifes for all these years.”
A growl clanged in my chest. “Don’t,” I warned.
When my brother and I had moved into town during my senior year in high school, we’d met Mack, who’d been drawn to us. It was like he’d seen the same thing in himself reflected back. My best friend had seen as much trouble as Ian and I had growing up, begging and fighting to survive.
Mack had pulled himself out of the poverty. Out of the depravity. Worked his ass off until he had detective tacked to the front of his name, wanting to change the world he’d come from.
Ian and I had harnessed all that bitterness and anger from our youth, too. Made something of ourselves.
Though we’d done it differently.
Against every odd, I’d clawed my fucking way to the top, building an empire so no one could ever hurt us again, doing everything I had to do in order to put my brother through school so his life wouldn’t be set to repeat.
So he could have something better.
When we were kids, we’d made dumpster diving a family sport, scrounging whatever food we could steal or find.
Lucky to have a roof over our heads, even though the places were infested with rats and littered with garbage and our mother was a fucking waste, rotting away with all that poison leaking into her veins.
Ian had been the one who’d found our mother when she’d finally taken it too far. When her body had finally given up after the years of abuse she’d put it through.