Page 1 of Pretty Girls Never Lie (St. Mary’s)

PROLOGUE

Isla

Sobs rock my chest, but his hand around my mouth muffles each cry that tries to escape. My spine is unrelenting against his front when his arm flexes around my waist. I want to break through the closet door to stop what’s happening through the tiny openings in between the blinds, but his warm breath ghosting my ear stops me.

“Don’t do it, Isla,” he warns.

My teeth clank together and chatter. I’m freezing but sweating at the same time.

“Please.” He’s pleading with me, and there’s a strange twisting in my belly that wants to give in to him even if he’s practically a stranger.

I know nothing more than his name and the exact shade of green in his eyes, but I’m drawn to him like my father is to bad decisions.

I move against Brantley’s arm, and his muscles flex. His voice is comforting, and I find myself clinging to it like he’s my own personal safety net.

“He’ll kill you if he sees you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. My eyes water at the sight of the gun pressed to my father’s temple, and the second the trigger is pulled, I turn around and bury my face in the shoulder of my best kept secret.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god.

The cries of my younger brother echo through the house, and a gruff voice barks out a demand.

“Shut that fucking baby up, or I’ll kill it too.”

I gasp right before I feel a tug on my hair.

“Do not make a noise.”

I can’t decide if Brantley is trying to save me or himself, but it doesn’t really matter. As long as I’m quiet, I’ll live.

That’s what he told me moments ago when he pulled me into the closet and slapped his hand over my mouth.

My head follows the jerking of my hair, and although it’s near black in the closet, I try to make out his familiar features. I can only see an outline of his face at first, but as soon as my eyes adjust to the bleak darkness, I find the harsh angle of his jaw and his boyish messy hair.

He’s near the same age as me–that much I do know from the first time he found me lurking. He called me a meddler and told me to go back to my bedroom. The second time he caught me, hetookme back to my room, and the third time, he stayed.

I jump at the sound of the man outside the closet. “Where the fuck is Brantley?”

Brantley’s arm tenses, and then he curses under his breath.“Shit.”

My younger brother is wailing from his bedroom, and I’m sick to my stomach.

I smell metal. The need to retch overtakes me, and I gag.

“Stop it,” he hisses.

I clench my eyes shut when he pushes my face into his chest. His heart is flying faster than mine, and I can’t help but wonder why. Is it because of what we witnessed, or is it because he’s afraid his father is going to open the closet door and see him in here with me?

“Call Richard.”

Brantley sighs at the conversation on the other side of the closet door.

“On it.”

There are shuffling footsteps, and I freeze.They’re going to find us.

A salty tear falls down my cheek, but Brantley is quick to wipe it away, flinging the moisture elsewhere.

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