Page 107 of Revenge (Elite of Elmwood 3)

Micah rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, sneering at Carter. “Looks like Josie Jo hit a nerve.”

Brock’s gaze caught mine from the side, and he did a little nod with his eyes, sending me a message. He wanted me to keep Carter talking, to keep pushing him. I didn’t know what he had planned, but talking shit to my ex-stepbrother was something I could do.

Grayson and Fynn stayed on high alert, just waiting, while Micah and I took on the role of baiting him.

Carter grabbed a fistful of Kenna’s hair, yanking her head back as he still rammed the gun into her skull.

Grayson’s body jerked, and I cried out, my hands flying up in front of me, signaling for Carter to stop. Hurting Kenna also caused Grayson and me pain. The three of us were linked in a way that I didn’t fully understand, but I literally ached inside.

“Stop,” I begged, tears clouding my eyes as I stared into Kenna’s. “Just stop.” My voice sounded so deflated, a reflection of what I felt inside.

“You want me to admit that I fucked your sister’s brains out. That I enjoyed every cry of pain, the pleas to stop,” he ranted, waving the gun around, “That I dreamed of doing her again and again.”

“I want you to admit that you drugged and raped her. That you drugged me and all those other girls.”

“There were no other girls. Not really. Just the two of you. All thoseother girls, they were just whores who gave it up freely. They knew about the drugs, the sex. I had to practice somehow for the real thing.”

Shit. I was going to be sick.

“Except Kenna left and you showed up,” Carter said to me.

“Don’t fucking speak to her,” Brock snapped icily enough to freeze the room.

Carter only snickered, shaking his head, eye still fixated on me. “I thought I was being given a second chance. You looked so much like her, and yet, you were different. I wanted you more. But of course, like Kenna, you only saw him.”

“Next time you like a girl, you might try to be nice to her instead of forcing her,” I retorted sarcastically.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. The Elite always get first pick, isn’t that right?”

“True,” Micah admitted. “But the difference is, we’ve never once had to force a girl.”

“So you’re admitting that you drugged and raped my sister,” I said, shifting the topic away from the Elite and back onto Carter.

“If that’s what you need to hear. Yeah. I did. But it should have been you.”

Brock nearly lost his shit right then. He would have attacked Carter if Micah hadn’t been there beside him to stop him. Thank God, Micah had the reflexes of a damn cheetah. He grabbed Brock, holding him back.

Carter clucked his tongue, the gun in his hands lifting an inch and resuming its firm position against Kenna’s temple.

Kenna whimpered, and I tried to tell her with my eyes that everything would be okay.

Brock shook Micah off, murder vibrating off him. “You just dug your own grave, asshole.” He held up his phone and hit play. Our entire conversation played back. “It’s already been uploaded to my cloud and sent to everyone in this room, including the Elmwood PD and news media. I just made you the most famous rapist in Elmwood’s history.”

“You’re fucking bluffing,” Carter roared, his face turning red.

“Are you willing to take that risk? It’s over, man. Put down the gun,” Fynn told Carter, spearing him with a hard look.

“Checkmate, bitch.” Micah grinned.

“It’s not over until I say it’s over!” Carter shouted, tilting closer to the edge of losing his fucking mind. I saw the unbalanced glint take over, knew he was about to do something devasting, and if I didn’t do something to stop him, my whole world would be rocked.

Everything happened at once, and yet time seemed too slow. Carter took a step back from Kenna, and the gun aimed at her head shifted, moving in our direction.

Carter’s eyes landed on Brock and stayed there. He was going to shoot him—take the person I loved.

Grayson lunged for Carter at the same time I shrieked Brock’s name, my feet suddenly moving forward. I didn’t think. My body just reacted. I had to protect Brock. I had to stop the bullet. As if that was possible, but my brain wasn’t thinking rationally, not when Brock’s life was in danger.

“Josie!” Brock roared my name.

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