Found (The Scions Book 2)

by Gemma Weir

  “You wouldn’t have heard of it. It was up near El Paso,” I force out, not mentioning that I was only there for a couple of months, or that it was the fifth school I’ve attended in the last couple of years.

  “Well our school is fucking tiny, there are less than a hundred kids in our senior class,” Zeke says, seemingly oblivious to my acidic tone, and the fact that I don’t really care about them, or this town, or their stupid fucking school.

  We reach the top of the stairs and pause outside a door. “Most of us have been going to school together since kindergarten,” the girl says, and I fight the urge to look at her again and fail. Her eyes are an open book to her emotions and right now she’s flustered and intrigued. I’d love to see what those eyes look like just before she orgasms.

  No. I chide myself, nope. Girls like this are fucking toxic. I can see the way she’s looking me up and down, judging me for the black clothes and tatty sneakers. Assessing me for my value, to see if I’m worth her time. If only she knew how much money I have sat in trust. I’m worth a fucking mint, but I can’t touch a penny of it until I graduate high school.

  “Thanks for the info, Princess,” I sneer, annoyed that I’m letting her hot body get to me.

  There’s a moment of suffocating silence as we all stand in the hallway, then Zeke clears his throat. “It’s a great room. Auntie B doesn’t have locks on any of the doors, but she won’t ever walk in without knocking and asking to come in.”

  I nod. What the hell else can I do? I’ve lost count of how many beds I’ve slept in since my mom turned her back on me, to wallow in her own self-pity rather than deal with her shit. God forbid people know that she’s anything less than perfect.

  Zeke pushes open the door and I take a step inside the room. It’s pretty big, with a queen bed with a navy-blue comforter. This will be the first time since I left my actual home that I haven’t been sharing a room, and the thought of at least the illusion of privacy is fucking awesome.

  “Do you need any help unpacking?” The girl asks.

  I glance down to the trash bags gripped in my fist, and anger, hot and red ploughs through me. I don’t need her help or her fucking pity. I can see it clear on her face and I fucking hate it. I’ve been humiliated every single moment, of every single day, since I was dragged from my home and into a shitty car, screaming for my mom not to do this, not to send me away. I don’t need her pity. I don’t need anything from her.

  “I’m good thanks, Princess,” I growl, hoping she can hear the hatred in my voice.

  “My name is Nova,” she snaps, a little fire evident in her tone.

  “Sure,” I say as dismissively as I can muster. Nova. It’s an unusual name, but it suits her because I can already tell there’s nothing typical about this girl. Swallowing, I push away all thoughts of her, of the soft lilt of her voice, and how her eyes flashed when I pissed her off. She’s nothing to me, just another pretty girl with an ugly soul.

  “Drop your stuff and let’s go back downstairs. Uncle Daisy is manning the grill and he cooks a mean steak.” Zeke says, breaking the tension again.

  Maybe that’s his role. Nova is the stuck-up princess and her brother runs interference, making sure she doesn’t make too many enemies. Fuck, I shouldn’t care, I don’t care. I need to stay away from both of them; Zeke because he seems like the friendly type, and Nova, because she’s temptation.

  “Are any of you actually related?” I ask, then want to swallow the words back down again. I literally just decided to stay away and now I’m asking personal questions. What the fuck?

  “Mostly no. Our Aunt Nikki and Aunt Dove are sisters, but other than that we’re all family by choice not blood. Sounds fucked up I know, and it confused the hell out of me as a kid when I’d try to explain to people I had twenty aunts and uncles. I guess you’ve already figured out that Sleaze is a biker. Well our dad is the Vice President of the Archer’s Creek chapter of the Doomsday Sinners, and pretty much all of the guys you met are members too. Once you join, you’re considered a brother, and so we grew up with the entire club as part of our family,” Zeke says, smiling the entire time, like it’s all a huge fucking joke.

  Bikers. Huh, I guess that explains all of the motorcycles outside and the huge guys in leather vests and tattoos. I probably should have figured it out already. Are bikers as bad as gangbangers?

  My gaze falls to Nova, and fuck she’s hot. Her eyes are sullen again, her lips back in that pout that makes me want to bite her lip. Thank fuck they can’t really see my face with my hood up. “Are you pair twins?”

  “No, Dad knocked Mom up with me straight after Nova was born, so there’s only just over a year between us, but we’re both seniors.” Zeke says, lifting his nose into the air and sniffing like a fucking bloodhound. “I can smell the steak, you coming?”

  “Nah, I’m good up here,” I tell him, reminding myself again to keep my distance. I’m only here until graduation, or until they get sick of me and I move somewhere else. I don’t want or need to make friends with these people.

  “Okay, Auntie B will bring you a plate up. First day of school is Monday. She’s gonna want to bring you. Trust me when I say, you don’t want that, so I’ll try to convince her to let me pick you up,” Zeke says, obviously not giving a fuck that I’m brushing him off to hide in this room.

  “I can walk,” I snap, not needing his fucking charity ride. We’d had a car service at home that used to take me to school, now I’m either stuck riding the bus or walking. Fuck my life.

  “Your choice, but it’s about five miles. Auntie B will set you up with a cell phone if you don’t already have one. She’s got my number, just let me know if you change your mind,” Zeke says, then he bounds off like an overeager puppy.

  “You should take him up on the ride. Principal Gerard loves Zeke. He’ll let him show you around rather than doing the tour himself,” Nova says.

  I’d forgotten she was still here. Nova doesn’t strike me as the type of girl who can stay quiet for more than two seconds at a time. Girls like her usually love the sound of their own voice too much to not talk. That pity I’d seen earlier is still there reflected back at me in her eyes and I snap. “I don’t need any fucking charity from your brother or you, Princess.” I push my hood off my face so she can see the disgust in my eyes.

  She gasps, her entire body lurching back. Heat flares to life in her eyes and I swear she arches her back, pushing her tits at me. “Get the fuck out,” I hiss, needing to get away from her. This girl is walking temptation and my dick is hard in my pants for her.

  She blinks and the heat fades a little in her expressive gaze. She pulls her lower lip between her teeth and bites at it. I’m not sure if it’s a deliberate move, but I lift my hand without thought, reaching out and dragging my thumb over her full bottom lip, wet from where she licked it only a second before.

  “Or you could stay,” I rasp. Shit, why the hell did I just say that? I can’t do this. I can’t get drawn in by a pretty face and a tight ass. Making my voice low and gravelly I say. “I bet those fuckable lips of yours would look amazing wrapped around my cock.”

  She flinches, and for a moment I feel like a bastard for taunting her when she really hasn’t done anything. Then her face twists back into that imperious sneer and I know I’ve made the right decision. The sweet, guileless face is a mask to hide the poison beneath, just like my mom, just like Bella. All of them are exactly the same. Fool me once shame on you, fool me twice… you get the picture. Getting involved with Bella was my own fault, and Nova, well, I’d lay money on her being just like her.

  I laugh and the sound makes my skin pebble, so bitter and hard that even I’m shocked by the sound of it. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Get the fuck out.”

  She turns and runs away.

  “Run, Princess, as far away from me as possible,” I say beneath my breath. Closing the door behind me, I drop my bags to the floor by my feet and exhale, my shoulders slumping as the weight of the day settles over me.
I pull my cell from my pocket and check for messages. There aren’t any. It’s not a surprise; the people from my old life have all forgotten me by now, and except for Bella I’ve made no effort to befriend anyone else since I was dropped into my own personal hell.

  My cell phone is the only thing I still have from my life with my parents. I expected the plan to be cancelled after Mom shipped me off with a social worker, but it wasn’t. She’s probably forgotten she’s still paying for it. I mean what’s the cost of a cell phone plan to a fucking millionaire? She forgot about her son quick enough, I doubt a tiny bill has even crossed her mind.

  Lowering myself onto the bed, I’m surprised to find the mattress soft and comfortable. Most of the beds in the group homes were either lumpy or rock hard, the mattresses waterproof and sticky from years of use without being cleaned.

  I scan the room again. The walls are white, there’s a desk with a chair, a TV, and a bed. Standing, I move to the two doors on the far wall and pull the first open. I’m happily surprised to find it leads to a bathroom. Fuck, when was the last time I didn’t have to share a bathroom with ten other kids? It’s been a long fucking time. Closing the door, I pull open the next door and find a closet. It’s filled with clothes; new clothes with the tags still on them. They’re not designer, but they’re better than the hand-me-downs I’ve been wearing.

  Grabbing the trash bags from the floor, I drop them into the closet. There’s no point unpacking until I know how long I’ll be staying for. I won’t touch the new clothes either; you never know what these people will expect in payment for them.

  Closing the closet door, I cross the room again until I’m standing in front of the window. The party is raging downstairs. Someone turned up the music and I can see the smoke rising from the barbeque. If this was another life and I was another person, I could be down there, surrounded by family and friends. But this isn’t my life, and these aren’t my family. They’re strangers and that’s all they’ll ever be.

  Retreating from the window, I sink back down onto the bed, kick off my shoes and shuffle back until I’m resting against the pillows. I pull my cell out and open up the email app, clicking to start a new message.

  * * *

  To: MMiller@Miller&MillerInc.com

  From: ValMill@Googlemail.com

  Subject: Somewhere new.

  * * *

  Hi Dad,

  I moved to a new place again. It’s a foster family this time, not another group home. The Johnsons are bikers; yep, fucking bikers. The guy told me to call him Sleaze and he’s covered in tattoos. Mom would shit a brick if she saw him.

  I’m in Texas, in a place called Archer’s Creek. We drove through the town on the way here. It’s small but it looks better than the last place I was. I get my own room and my own bathroom which is nice. If I try, maybe I can pretend that I’m living in a hotel, not in some stranger’s home.

  There are two other kids here. I’m not sure if they’re throwaways like me or if they’re the Johnsons’ biological kids, but my room is at the top of the house and on its own, so at least I won’t have to listen to them shouting and playing.

  Get this. To welcome me, the Johnsons have thrown a huge party and I was introduced to about thirty people. There are a few kids my age, a brother and sister that are both seniors too. Zeke, the guy seems okay, not that I’m here to make friends. The sister, Nova is going to be a problem. She’s hot, too hot, but she’s like Bella, I can see it already. They call her Princess.

  I wish you were here, Dad, or that I was with you. Everything’s so fucked up, but it’s only a matter of months until I graduate, then I’ll be able to access my trust, and I won’t be at the whims of the fucking state anymore.

  Maybe I’ll go visit Mom. Or maybe not. She discarded me like trash; she abandoned me. She didn’t even tell people the truth. She signed off responsibility for being a parent and then she told people I’m at a boarding school in Geneva.

  I get that she was depressed, but why not just ask for help? Or if she just wanted to get rid of me, why not just tell people the truth? Why pretend, Dad? Why play the part of being a mom when really she couldn’t give a shit about me?

  I hate her so much. I hate her and I hate Bella and I hate you too. You left me, Dad, and I’m alone, so completely fucking alone.

  I miss you so fucking much.

  Valentine.

  * * *

  Hitting send, I close the email app and wipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. It’s been over six months since I emailed my dad, and in a minute, I’ll get the notification that the email address no longer exists, but it doesn’t matter, he’s not alive to read it anyway.

  Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply, then exhale and open them again. Enough. I’m too fucking old and I’ve been through too much to be a pussy about moving to a new place. This isn’t my first rodeo, but it might be my last. If I can keep my head down and stay out of trouble, I could stay here until I’m done with school. Then I’m gone, and the only person who’ll have any control over my life will be me.

  There’s a knock at the door and I falter, unsure who it is and why they knocked, when people have been barging into whatever room I’ve slept in since the day I became a throwaway. Climbing off the bed, I open the door to find Zeke stood on the other side, a plate piled high with food in his hands.

  “Hey,” he says, a huge happy smile covering his face. “I brought you some food before all the good shit gets eaten.”

  “Err thanks.” I say, unsure what this kid’s angle is.

  “Fuck, you’re not a vegetarian or anything are you? Because I just brought you a plateful of meat.”

  “No, this is good thanks.”

  “No worries,” he says, handing the plate to me. I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He just stands there, his hands in his back pockets. “So, do you need anything or whatever?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  He still doesn’t move. Is he waiting for an invite in or something?

  “Do you have a cell?” He asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “Let me give you my number. I know this is fucked up; you don’t know me or whatever, but just take my number and then if you need anything and you don’t want to ask B & Sleaze then you can drop me a text.”

  I know I should refuse, that I should tell him I’m not interested in making friends and that I’ll be fine on my own, but instead I pull my cell from my pocket and hand it to him.

  He enters his number and hands it back. “I sent myself a text, so I’ve got your number too.”

  I nod, the plate of food in one hand, my cell clutched tightly in the other.

  “Okay, so I’ll leave you to eat, but if you fancy getting out of here later there’s a house party just a few blocks away. Nova and I will be there. Griffin too, I’m not sure if you met him yet. Anyway, you should come, get to know a few people before school on Monday.”

  I nod noncommittally and he nods back once, the smile falling from his face for the first time since I met him. “I’ll text you the address. No pressure but the offer’s there,” he says, before turning and finally walking away.

  I close the door behind him and place the plate on the desk. The food smells amazing: ribs, steak, a burger, and a dog, along with some salad and rice. I might be wrong, I have been in the past, but Zeke seems like a nice kid. If I’d met him at St Augustus Prep we’d probably have been friends, but not now. I’m not that person anymore and I don’t need allies, I just need to be left alone.

  Crossing the room, I look out the window just in time to see Zeke drop his arms around Nova and the pretty redhead from earlier. They’re leaving. As if she knows I’m watching, Nova looks up, her gaze landing straight on the window, on me.

  I stare back, knowing she can see me but not giving a fuck. Princess fucking Nova is a siren, beautiful and compelling, but ultimately a trap and I don’t intend to get caught.

  Present day.

  The whispers of
the kids start off quiet, then get louder as they get bolder. All of them are talking about her, about the video that played, about the way she clawed at her head, how she collapsed on the floor, tears streaming down her face.

  I hate that they all saw her that way. She was vulnerable, and although I’ve gotten a glimpse at how breakable Nova truly is, to these kids she’s untouchable, or at least she was until today.

  Someone laughs and I spin, pinning the girl with my most steely gaze. “What the fuck is funny?” I demand.

  The girl, a fake blonde with an inch of roots showing and a shirt that’s two sizes too small smirks at me. She lifts her hand and motions in the direction that the Scions just went. “That. I mean did you see her? She was hilarious. That uppity bitch has had that coming for years.”

  Stalking toward her, I push people out of my way until I’m stood right in front of the girl. “You think it’s fucking funny that someone played a video like that? Would it be funny if it was you?”

  “Oh whatever,” the girl scoffs. “It wasn’t that bad; she’s such a drama queen.”

  “Do you know who did it?” I demand.

  “It wasn’t me, but I think whoever did it deserves a medal. They brought down the bitch.”

  I shake my head, disgusted by her. Spinning around, I try to catch the eyes of as many people as possible. “Who did it, who recorded the video?” I shout.

  “They all thought it was you,” someone calls.

  “I would never fucking do that, not to them. But I want to know who the fuck it was. Come on, you fucking coward. If you’ve got the balls to set this up, then come forward and admit it.”

  As I eyeball the crowd of kids, not a single person will meet my eyes. “Who was it?” I yell, my roar silencing the whispers and drawing the attention of a teacher who pushes through the gym doors and into the crowded corridor.

  “Break it up,” the teacher yells, sidestepping his way through the kids until he reaches me. “What’s going on here?”