Sounds of all three of my brothers laughing together carries down the corridor to my room. Irritation flares inside me as I jump up from the bed to close the door.

I want to shut them all out. I hate how they just accept our dad is dating a girl we grew up with. A girl barely fucking eighteen. A girl who isn’t meant for him. I may only be sixteen, but in our case, age doesn’t matter. We belong together.

I wear a mask of indifference, not letting it slip that I actually give a shit. Rowan affects us all.

We knew there would be competition between us for her affection, but Christ, none of us could have foreseen our father parading her around as his plaything.

She broke my fucking heart the day I saw them together. I thought she was different than other girls. She didn’t care about money, power, or looks. She liked to laugh, play around, eat pizza, and order her own fries instead of stealing mine.

She didn’t beg for attention or need compliments to sate her ego. Vanity isn’t something she possessed, despite being the most beautiful girl in any room.

I longed to be the one to kiss her lips. Hold her in my arms and protect her from the harshness of the world. I longed for her to take away some of the cold darkness inside me and shine her light in. She and Brock had a puppy thing going for a while, but it wasn’t real—it wasn’t what we shared.

Her being with Eric is a nightmare that keeps me awake at night. The thoughts of him ruining her, intoxicating her mind and turning her into the troubled woman my mother became, makes me want to take a knife to his chest and carve out his heart.

I want to take bleach to my eyes and scrub away the images of them together. Hearing her moan and call out for him—for fucking him!—hurts. It’s a pain I have to push down and mask. I don’t let them see the damage they cause me. There’s always been a disconnect between Eric and me. My brothers call him Dad, but he’s never been a dad to me. Even saying the word reminds me of him forcing Rowan to call him Daddy. Makes me sick. And knowing him, how bad I have it for Rowan would just make him rub it in my face more. He loves letting everyone know he’s doing disgusting things to her.

I can’t believe the performance he put on at the party earlier in front of everyone. Making Rowan tell her father she had a new daddy now. It almost had me exploding in a fit of frenzied rage, but I kept it together, biding my time, slipping my easy-breezy face into place for all to see so they don’t know what’s happening inside my mind. No one can figure me out, and that’s how I like it.

Patience serves me better. This is the long game. Her own father, Jaxson Wheeler, isn’t one to be made a fool of, and why lay myself out there when I know he will deal with my problem for me?

Eric pushed his luck too far tonight. He thinks he’s untouchable, and to most people, maybe he is. But Jaxson Wheeler? He isn’t most people.

Eric forcing Rowan to tell her own father she doesn’t belong with him anymore was him signing his own death warrant.

The whole scene made me want to vomit. Rowan’s father isn’t someone to just be told what is what. He makes his own rules, and I admire that about him. I’ve watched him over the years—watched him watch everyone else. Like me, he wears a mask. He hides his true face, and that intrigues me.

He tries to fit in, but under the surface, he sees everyone but Rowan as irrelevant. I’ve searched his eyes and found the stone cold entity lying behind them.

He looked inside me too, wading through the darkness with a searchlight to get a reaction. A truth. He wants to know if Eric and Rowan being together bothers me. He wants me to take his bait and do something about it. But why show my hand when I know he’ll do the dirty work for me?

Fuck, I’m sick of feeling this shit—sick of letting her consume me.

Checking my cell, I sigh at the six texts from Jackie, a girl from my school who wants me to date her. She’s needy as fuck. I hate her.

I don’t bother replying. She’ll get the message.

My eyes just close when I hear screeching. Rowan. I’d know her voice anywhere.

I dart upright and listen. Maybe I was dreaming. I can still hear a faint hum from my brothers in the house. Just when I’m about to drop back onto the pillow, the dull sound of voices filter through the pelting against my window. Getting to my feet, I peek out the window. If Eric is out there doing shit with Rowan, I’m going to hate myself for getting up to witness it.

I search the darkness, but don’t see anyone until a searchlight and the crack of a gunshot echoes through the air.

Thud.

My heart stops, then begins to thunder against my ribcage.

Fuck.

My feet are moving before my mind has time to catch up. I take off running through the house, jumping the stairs three at time.

“What the hell was that?” my brothers call from somewhere in the house, but fuck them. I need to get to Rowan.

The rain is thick and heavy, drenching me within seconds. As I enter Wheeler’s yard, my feet slip in the wet mud.

The rain is insane, making seeing them clearly almost impossible.

Squinting through the torrent, I make out Jax Wheeler with a gun outstretched in his grasp, aimed and ready. He’s growling down at…Rowan. She’s in a heap on the grass, her clothes glued to her skin, her hair stuck to her face, features etched into agonizing pain. She reaches forward toward something in the ground.

“I never should have cut you out of your mother,” he spits down at her.

I react to her sobs, to her sounding so broken, and move forward to see what she’s looking at. It’s a grave-sized hole that’s been dug in the ground. I follow her vision, and the air whooshes from my lungs. Eric is wide-eyed, staring up with a bullet hole in his skull.

Fuck.

He did it. He killed him.

I knew he would.

Charging forward, I collide with Jaxson, taking him to the ground. His body crashes with a splutter into the mud. Because that’s what any son would do.

Rearing my arm back, I land a punch to his jaw, but he throws me off him, using his size to gain control over me, then aims the gun at me with a sick smirk on his lips.

Thud.

I dart forward, despite the danger. I may be smaller, but I’m faster, and there’s this weird adrenaline making my choices for me. I’m not scared; I’m excited.

Hitting his hand so it’s not aimed at me, the gun shatters through the night, firing off a round. Motherfucker. I jump on top of him, trying to land another blow, but he smacks me in the nose with the butt of the gun, stunning me and making me fall back. He rights himself with ease. Wild eyes track my movements.

Warm rivers of blood mix with the rain as my nose leaks. I grin back at him when his eyes flash wide and drop to Rowan.

What’s that look? Fear? Regret?

A commotion ensues behind me when my brothers all race into the yard over to Rowan.

I don’t want to take my eyes from Jaxson, but their sudden anxious pleas for her to stay with them steals my attention.

“It’s going to be okay, Ro. Don’t you fucking die on us.”

“Call an ambulance!”

“Stop the bleeding!”

The rain is punishing. It takes me a few seconds before I see the blood.

My insides collide, and my hands shake. She’s bleeding. Fuck. Fuck. No.

A cracking sound splinters the air, and I’m not sure if it’s thunder or my chest splitting open. My feet move to her side as I try to keep this panic inside me from ripping free and swallowing me.

I need to be calm. She needs me to be calm. “Move” I bark, pushing Hayden out the way and running my hands over her stomach. Ripping the material of her shirt to expose her skin, I inspect the wound. A small red hole the size of a penny oozes her essence, soaking my hands. Cam rips his shirt off and hands it to me to place over the seeping hole.

“An ambulance is on its way. Is she breathing?” Brock asks, relaying the situation to someone on the other end of his cell phone.

Cam is by my side, squeezing Ro’s hand. I survey the position of the wound on her stomach. It’s low, and to the right of her organs. “Check for an exit wound.” Cam tells me, lifting her a little so I can check her back. Nodding in agreement, my fingers feel around her skin on the back of her hip, and I find it - an exit wound. A sigh passes my lips as I nod at Cam. He gives me a reassuring smile in return. “That’s good,” he encourages. I’ve watched enough cop shows to know a through and through is a good sign. Ignoring the panic in Brock’s voice as he tells the operator there’s a lot of blood, I search the yard for Jax and catch the glimpse of him just as he slips out the gate.

Reaching for Cam’s hand and placing it on the shirt so I can free mine, I wipe my hands on my soaked shorts. “Take care of her, Cam.” I urge my younger brother, and I dart up, giving chase.

My feet slap against the asphalt, shooting a sting up both legs, but it doesn’t slow me down. The fucking old man is fit as fuck.

After a few minutes, he slows to a stop and turns to face me. He’s not even out of breath. There’s no emotion in his vacant stare—no remorse or fear. The brief glimpse of emotion moments after the gun fired into Rowan has been replaced with indifference. I mimic his features, and it’s like looking into a mirror. He’s my reflection, and that’s a scary thought.

Could I kill someone? Is my soul that black?

“I don’t want to kill you,” he tells me, and I believe him. There’s sincerity in his tone.

“You shot Rowan,” I bark. “She’s your damn daughter.” He needs to be reminded of this.

“She caught a stray bullet. I only wanted Eric.” He shrugs. Un-perplexed.

“He’s my father,” I growl. “You think I won’t avenge him?” I tilt my head, studying him.

A cocky smirk lifts his lip. “You don’t give a shit about him. And we both know he’s not your father. Perhaps you should ask Uncle Trevor if he knows who your real daddy is.”

Bastard.

My brow furrows at his words, but I choose to ignore them for now.

“If she dies, I’ll come for you,” I warn instead, and I mean it. I may only be sixteen, but that won’t stop me from avenging her.

“You love her?” he asks, amused and curious. Like the question is one that surprises him. He sees the reflection, just like me.

The night sky cloaks us in its shield, and out of all the people in the world, I feel like Jaxson may be the only one who understands me.

“I feel things for her, but we both know we don’t love anything,” I say, urging him to confirm it.

“Take care, Nixon. Don’t make the mistakes I did,” he warns me.

And then, he fades into the rain.