Page 6 of Serpentine

She nods but doesn’t speak, her face giving nothing away.

There’s the slightest tremor in her locked arms as her hands white-knuckle the steering wheel.

I remember that case. A girl in her early twenties had been raped on the TPU campus. The cops and the campus police fought for jurisdiction.

Campus police won the argument and swept everything under the rug. Even though I found camera footage with the fucker’s face on it clear as day. It showed him knocking her over the head as she ran past, and then he dragged her into the bushes just off the running path.

They hadn’t wanted the scandal.

They avoided it while we funneled funds from a secret university account nearly hidden from me—an account that made these kinds of things disappear.

Some money went to the victim, and some were in our pockets. While the perp will never fuck another woman, or even his hand, again.

“How is she?” I ask, the silence ringing in my ears as she drives down the highway.

“She’s gotten a lot of help and is doing much better. Before we reached out to you all, before you helped, I was certain she’d end it all.” A tear slides down her face.

My hand itches to comfort her, but comfort isn’t what I’m good at.

My hands are made for keys and bikes.

“I’m glad she’s doing well,” I say, the words sounding forced, even to me.

The navigation spews directions to Carter’s house, and she enters the neighborhood. She eyes me a few times knowingly. I don’t live here, but she’ll keep her eyes front and her nose out of my business. Everyone in Twin Pines does.

Who we are in the community and what we stand for means more than whatever the fuck we’re up to.

I’d parked my bike down the street, but she dropped me in front of Carter’s house. When she’s out of sight, I begin the trek to my bike.

Rain is falling now in a heavy downpour, and it’s what I’ll need to drown out the noise in my fucking head. I know a shitstorm is coming, and I know it’s my fault.

This is why I don’t leave the fucking house!

Once my helmet is firmly on, I start the engine, the rumble between my thighs snaking through me. I rev it before lifting the stand and pushing away from the curb.

As the rain beats my leather and soaks through the jeans that had almost dried on the drive over here, all I can see is my finger skating down her face. The blue of her eyes filled with fear. I throttle hard, pulling out onto the highway in a rage.

I don’t know how or why I’d lost my good fucking sense, but I know I’ll never live it down.

Miles’s leg shakes violently as he sits in the chair before me. His head is in his hands, his breathing erratic.

“Why the fuck would you do this?” he asks for the second time.

I don’t have an answer for him now, either.

“Something about her…”

He laughs, sitting back in his chair. I’m at least thankful he did this shit in private. The last thing I need is to be the laughingstock of the fucking club for weeks. I know I still will be; it’ll just be said behind my back.

That I can deal with, though.

“Something about her? She’s Walter’s daughter! We’re nowhere near ready to move in on him, Brax!”

I nod, closing my eyes to hide the shame in them. It’s rare I fuck up. I honestly don’t think I ever fucked up before. I’m the one Miles sends after quiver members who do shit like I just pulled.

He sighs when I don’t give another answer and scrubs his face.

He and I aren’t blood-related, but he’s my fucking brother, and I hate disappointing him. But I can’t explain the insanity that comes over me sometimes, and he knows that.