Page 4 of Never Trust the Living (Battle Crows MC 7)

Amon may not live with me, but he found a way to make his presence known.

And, for shits and giggles, he made sure to always show me that he could reach me, no matter what.

Like today.

Today, I’d gone to school happy, clean, and for once, optimistic.

I’d gotten home to find my foster parents had been murdered.

When my bus dropped me off, the first thing to catch my eye was the yellow crime scene tape.

Then it was the cops that were all mingling around in the front yard, looking upset.

But even though I knew that I shouldn’t, I got off the bus anyway and walked up to them.

“W-what happened?” I asked quietly.

The first cop that got to me stilled me with a hand on my shoulder.

Then he told me the news.

My foster parents, the best that I’d ever had, had been murdered in their beds.

And I knew.

I knew.

Closing my eyes, I whispered. “My brother…”

The words stilled in my mouth as I looked up to find two men walking toward me.

Both in suits and looking important.

“Looks like you have a big brother that’s willing to take you in,” the man in the suit standing next to my brother said. “You don’t need a foster home.”

I swallowed hard, knowing that, no matter what, this wouldn’t end how I wanted it to end.

I would be going to my brother’s.

I would have to either agree or run away.

And only one of those options was going to get me finished with school.

“Umm.” I licked my lips, wondering why in the hell my brother was dressed like that. “Uhh…”

“She’s in shock.” My brother’s eyes, a wild blue just like my own, looked at me with a soullessness that turned my blood cold. “I’ll get her home. Thank you for all the help, gentlemen.”

And he did.

To our old, broken-down trailer sans parents—since he’d killed them, too.

“You almost had a brain fart there, didn’t you, sis?” Amon asked, looking amused, even though I knew that to be untrue. “Glad I got there when I did.”

My brother didn’t have emotions.

He was a true psychopath.

Oh, he could fake them.

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