Page 177 of Possession

I shake my head, willing it not to be true.

My father killed Brian Cruz?

I’m turned, and the beast of a man who has Brax’s back no matter what is in my face. He holds me by the shoulders and bends to look into my eyes. “What did she do to you?”

I gasp for air as my tears come harder. Micah is blurry when I look up at him. “He did it.”

Micah’s brows furrow. “Who did what?”

“Shut up,” my mother pushes to her knees and grabs a chair to pull herself to a standing position. “Shut the fuck up. Don’t you say a word!”

Micah looks from my mother to me. His expression hardens. “What is she talking about?”

“Don’t,” my mother seethes and starts to come at us.

Micah puts out a hand and easily pushes her back as he focuses on me.

I still can’t believe it’s true. I stare into my mother's eyes as the words scrape like razors from my mouth. "My father—" I find Micah and tears fill my eyes. "My father killed Brian."

Micah’s expression morphs into something that reflects how I feel.

Shock.

Disgust.

Fury.

“You little bitch!” My mother tries to throw herself at me, but Micah pulls me to his side.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” he demands, when he stops to reach for his phone. He looks from the screen to me. “It’s Brax.”

I drag my fingers through my hair and shake my head. “He’s going to hate me. When he learns this, he’ll hate me. What am I going to do?”

He presses the button and puts the phone to his ear. “Brax, something has happ—”

But he goes silent, and his eyes dart to me.

I brace.

“Send me the location. We’ll be right there.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Rocco’s phone hit a tower. They have a location. We’ll have to deal with this later. We need to go.”

43

I’M A GUEST ON YOUR MERRY-GO-ROUND

Brax

It took all of five minutes for Rocco’s phone to ping off a tower.

We’re headed east out of town, away from the city, and into an industrial area that has seen better decades.

Tim and another local supervisor scrambled teams to search the area. We split up, cleared too many buildings, and came up empty.

Not one pissed-off eighteen-year-old to be found.

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