Page 2 of Brothers' Brat
My foot catches the base's edge of a mausoleum, and I tumble forward, landing on my frozen knees. I know my hands and legs are going to be scraped, but I can't seem to care right now. Gasping, I stand up and press my back against the nearest monolith, a marble angel whose face is eroded by time. She looks how I feel right now, frozen and miserable.
"Where the fuck is she? She's going to freeze to death." Hudson's voice feels distant now, muffled by the thick curtain of ancient oaks lining the cemetery's border. The trees stand like stoic watchers, their branches clawing at the sky above, whipping as each gust of wind whips by. I'm not that gullible though, everything echoes in this place. He could be right on the other side of this stone.
"Leila..." Hayden's tone has shifted. Their little game isn't going as planned so he's decided to be softer, coaxing me. His voice is threaded with an intimacy that once drew me in. Not anymore.
Pressing my palms against the cold stone, I slide down until I'm crouched low, my breath condensing into misty puffs that drift lazily upward. I close my eyes and force myself to take slower, deeper breaths, trying to steady the rapid drumming of my heart.
Just stay hidden, I coach myself silently. Wait them out. But even as I try to calm my racing thoughts, I know none of it matters. They won't rest until they've found me, and I've made them mad enough this time that I think they're well beyond snapping.
I hug my knees to my chest, feeling the bite of the wind as it slithers through the gaps in my clothing. I am alone with the dead, yet I have never felt more alive. Every one of my senses is heightened by the thrill of the chase and the terror of being caught by the only two men who have ever had my heart.
"Come out, Leila," Hayden's voice lilts, closer now. "You know we'd never leave you here."
My phone erupts with a jarring ring, and the sound makes my stomach churn as it echoes around the graveyard. With trembling fingers, I retrieve it from my skirt's waistband, the screen illuminated with only the word “Dad” blinking ominously. I only answer because it's over now anyway. They know exactly where I am, and my body is too tired and cold to try to outrun them any longer, and maybe they'll go a little easier on me if Dad is on the phone.
"This needs to stop," Dad begins without asking how I am. He knows exactly how I am. Those giant tattletales probably called him. Dad's voice is stern and unyielding, which tells me that he won't be offering any comfort. He thinks I'm wrong. He thinks I'm hurting his sons, and that's all that matters to him. "The twins tell me you're avoiding them, and you're still not on the road to the cabin. It's getting late, Leila."
"I've called them a lot of things, but liars isn't one of them," I retort, my tone sharper than intended. "Call your goons off and tell them to head to the cabin without me. I promise you'll forget I'm not there. I have homework to catch up on anyway," I say because I guess I'm the liar.
"Sweetheart," he sighs, and I hate that I soften at the pet name because I can almost hear the shake of his head, "it's inevitable. You're only making it harder on yourself and on Hayden and Hudson."
"They don't love me, and you know it," I insist, the determination in my voice belying the fear that grips me. Angry, hot tears threaten to spill from my eyes, and I hate that it's come to this. I hate everything about this situation.
"Hillcrest is empty. It's not safe for you to stay there alone. You need to come home with your big brothers," he presses, and I don't miss the insinuation. Our conversation is cut short because the only people I'm not safe with on this campus have found me.
In a blur of movement, hands—too familiar yet unwelcome—grip me, yanking me up off the ground. My scream catches in my throat as I'm hoisted against the hard plane of a chest, the scent of leather and pine overwhelming my senses.
"We got you," Hudson murmurs, his breath hot against my ear as Hayden's grip tightens. The phone is ripped from my grasp, and all I can do is hold on and close my eyes.
CHAPTER 2
LEILA
The wind whips like a banshee, circling the gravestones with icy fingers. My scream is swallowed up, leaving a hollow echo in its wake. I thrash against Hayden's unyielding grip, my breath shallow and desperate.
"Stop screaming," Hayden laughs darkly, and I can almost feel the cruel smile, showing off his perfect teeth as he tightens his hold on my neck. "No one's going to hear you."
Hudson's eyes, green like the thickest canopy of evergreens, meet mine, and I see no mercy there. He holds my phone, speaking into it with a cool detachment that chills me more than the breeze. "She's fine, Dad. You know how dramatic Leila can be." His voice is a blade, cutting through any hope I might have had left.
I kick out at Hayden, my school shoes barely grazing him. He snarls, something primal and possessive, and his other hand clamps down harder over my mouth. My lips are trapped between his fingers, muffling the noises of my futile resistance.
"Enough," Hudson snaps at me as he ends the call, and my last lifeline flutters away as he tosses the phone into the abyss of shadows that is the Hillcrest cemetery.
"Let's give her a proper seat," Hayden says with a menacing glint, dragging me toward a headstone that feels like ice through my skirt when he sets me on it. I can almost hear the protest from the dead beneath.
"You're a really naughty girl for disobeying us, Leila," Hudson chides mockingly, standing before me with arms folded. He isn't shouting, but his words slice deeper than if he were.
"I'm not going with you," I spit out the words, tasting the rebellion even as fear coils in my belly. I'm no match for them, and that's the most frustrating part of all of this.
Hayden rolls his eyes and gestures to Hudson. "She still thinks she has a choice."
In two swift motions, Hayden pries my thighs apart and yanks down my panties, the fabric harsh against my skin. Before I can scream again, he stuffs them into my mouth, silencing me with the balled-up lace. Anger surges, burning hotter than the humiliation, and tears threaten to spill over.
"Quiet now," Hayden mocks, and then I feel it—a stinging slap across my thigh so hard it pulls a muffled cry from deep within me. I try to shove the panties out of my mouth with my tongue, but Hayden gives me a warning glare. He's letting me know if he has to put them back in my mouth, he'll make sure I choke on them.
There's a moment's pause where the wind is the only thing I can hear, and then Hudson's touch lands on the reddening mark Hayden has left. It's gentle at first, a stark contrast to his brother's brutality. But then his fingers tighten, and the pain blooms anew, a burning reminder of the power they hold over me. My body betrays me as it trembles, not just from the cold, but from the realization of how deep their obsession runs. And somewhere beneath the layers of loathing and defiance, an unwanted ache for them to touch me begins to surface. It twists in tandem with the ache I crave for tenderness that I know will never come from them.
The coldness of the headstone seeps through my skirt, chilling me to the bone, but it's nothing compared to Hayden's touch. His hands are forceful, spreading my legs with a roughness that leaves no room for protest. He kneels before me like some twisted knight paying homage to a queen he's about to dethrone.