Chapter Twenty Eight
Blair
Once I put myself together again, I follow them home. Meredith is nowhere to be seen, and neither is their father. Bray whoops, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me up the stairs as I roll my eyes. He rushes to my room, stepping right into the bathroom and into the shower. I scream as he turns on the water and it sprays us. He laughs and slides me down his soaked body, setting me on my feet. I slap him away with a laugh, grab the knob, and turn the heat up.
“Now get out, I’m getting naked,” I tell him.
He presses against my back and runs his nose up my neck. “Babe, I just saw you naked while my brother ate your cunt, now’s not the time to be shy.”
I turn to face him, planting my hand in the middle of his chest and pushing him into the wall as I plaster myself against him. I glide my nose up his neck, copying his earlier movement. “Babe, I’m not shy,” I tease. “We both know if you stay and watch, you’ll want to touch, and you have to earn my pussy.” I turn away and start to strip.
He groans but slips out of the bathroom, making me laugh. I’ve never had an issue with confidence, I own my body, but something about the way they watch me only makes me more confident. I want to flaunt it and tease them with it, knowing they crave me like I want them.
This electricity between us all is only getting stronger.
Shaking my head at the absurdity of our situation, I shower, shave, and wash my hair thoroughly, and when I get out, I do a face mask and some toners and moisturisers across my whole body. Next, I repaint my nails, pluck my eyebrows, and then lie on my bed in a towel as I soak up the silence.
It’s late afternoon, so I grab my phone and scroll through the notifications, knowing I have time before the party. There’s nothing from Faye, and my heart sinks, but I force myself to reply to Allegra’s and Lexi’s messages to let them know I’m okay. Their worry makes me smile; I’m not as alone as I thought. Sometimes I sink into that darkness when I don’t mean to, and everything becomes overwhelming, but a bit of time and perspective can help a lot. Not to mention having people to lean on.
I reply to some messages from girls at work and others asking about me going to the party tonight, and I ignore the ones that want to know if I’m sleeping with the Crew brothers. When I check notifications for social media, there are some tagged photos on Instagram which makes me frown. I didn’t pose for any. Most of my posts are of me dancing—it’s my escape and my way of combating the stigma of burlesque dancers, and I do pretty well. My frown only increases as I scroll through the images. There are only a few words on the caption.
Crew whore?
They are pictures of me and my stepbrothers—I need to stop calling them that now. There’s one where I’m in Cyrus’s face and he’s smirking down at me. Bray and Asher are there too. The next is of me slung over his shoulder, and the last is of him standing above me as I lie on the backseat of the car. Luckily, I’m still clothed.
Fuck, who is this person? I’m going to kick their ass. I bet it’s one of their old flings or girlfriends who’s getting jealous, but the stalker angle has all my alarm bells ringing as the past rears its ugly head. Getting up, I storm into the living room where they are drinking beer and watching a football game.
“Control your sluts,” I seethe. I show them the phone, thrusting it in their faces as they blink in confusion. Bray mutes the TV and peers at the images. “If they take pictures without my consent again and post them anywhere, I will kill them.”
“Wait, who took these?” Bray asks, grabbing the phone before Cyrus snatches it from his hand.
His expression darkens with thunder as he thumbs through them before flinging it at Asher with a snarl. “It’s not one of ours. There were no girls I’ve fucked at that party,” Cyrus growls.
“Me either,” Asher offers.
Bray frowns, trying to think, but he shakes his head. “Nor me.”
“So not a jealous girl.” I shrug, crossing my arms. “But someone did. I don’t appreciate it.”
“We’ll find out who and kick their ass,” Cyrus promises, cracking his knuckles and smiling meanly. “I’ll enjoy it.”
“Me too,” Asher adds, handing the phone back to me. “I’ve reported them for you. They will get taken down. I’m sorry, Blair.”
I relax a little at his sincere apology. “Not your fault,” I grumble. “I just—I don’t like the thought of someone watching me, okay? Find out who it was before I do.” I turn and stomp away. The past is chasing me like a burning fire at my heels.
There’s a bad feeling starting in my belly, which I try to push away. It’s nothing, just a coincidence. It’s just some dude who’s angry at them or a jealous girl.
That’s all.
* * *
I need to get drunk to cool the anger inside me. The anger is born of fear of the past, fear of the memories those stupid photographs brought up. I came with the Crew brothers tonight like they asked, riding on Asher’s bike as he sped through the city. The freedom it brought settled me a little.
They informed me they had been putting out feelers all afternoon to find out who took them. When I asked who they were, they smiled and told me I was better off not knowing. It makes me wonder just who they are friends with. They run drugs, I know that much, and they are rich and unafraid of the police who clearly want to bring them down.
Just who are the Crew brothers, and what are they capable of?
Shouldn’t I know if I’m supposedly part of them now? At first, I thought they were playing at being gangbangers, but I know now, deep down, they are so much more. They are dangerous, deadly, and powerful. I just need to know how powerful.