4. Reagan

Chapter 4

Reagan

T he autumn wind tugs at my leather jacket as I dial my sister Reese’s number. My heart feels heavy, and I know hearing that she’s safe will help with that. She answers on the second ring.

“Hey, Reagan! What’s up?”

“Nothing much, just walking to class. How was your day?” I ask, genuinely curious about her life away at Wellington Academy. Getting my dad to agree to send her to boarding school a few years ago was one of the best ideas. The less time she’s in that house the better.

“Amazing! I made a new friend today, her name’s Lily. She’s from England and has the coolest accent,” Reese gushes, excitement ringing in her voice.

“Nice. You two planning any world domination schemes?” I tease, a smirk playing on my lips.

“Maybe,” she giggles. “But first, we’re going to sneak into the kitchen and make some midnight snacks.”

“Ah, you really are my mini me. Just don’t get caught.” I chuckle .

“Never,” she scoffs playfully. “Miss you, though.”

“Miss you too, kiddo. Keep kicking ass, alright?” I say, my voice cracking slightly.

“Always,” she replies before we hang up, leaving me with a bittersweet feeling.

As I continue walking across campus, I pass by the alley where I saw that frat guy get murdered. Even in broad daylight, it feels eerie. I never heard anything about it, and I certainly never told anyone what I saw. Why those guys wanted him dead is not my business. I’ve kicked him out of the bar myself for slipping shit into a girl’s drink, so in my very humble opinion, the world hasn’t lost anything. I notice the brick under my foot is stained brown, because this alley is never fucking cleaned.

I can’t help but wonder about the identity of those who killed him. Despite their vicious act, I still believe he deserved what he got. The cruelty he inflicted on others shouldn’t go unpunished. The world doesn’t care about us, so why the fuck should we care about people like him? But who had the guts to carry it out?

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind me. I glance over my shoulder, suddenly wary, but there’s no one there. Just my imagination playing tricks on me. I shake off the unease and continue on to class.

This is my least favorite class for several reasons. It’s early and my stepsister, Ashley, is in the same class, the two banes of my existence.

I enter the classroom and squint my eyes because the fucking sterile fluorescent lights are scratching at my corneas. The desks are arranged in perfect rows, as if they are soldiers awaiting orders, and I can’t help but feel like a prisoner in this hellhole. I’m only going to this stupid school because I know bartending isn’t going to be enough to support my sister and myself so I can get us both out of our father’s clutches.

Ashley sits at her usual spot near the front of the class, her dyed blonde hair practically glowing clown orange under the harsh illumination as she purses her lips at me. I’ve offended her by my presence, I presume. I need sunglasses if I’m going to get through the next fifty-five minutes of this hellish nightmare without anyone seeing my eyeballs rolled up into my skull. My stepsister’s designer clothes cling to her body, revealing more than they conceal, and her makeup is applied with the precision of a surgeon. That’s one thing I’ll give the dirty bitch. She has a strong grasp on the color wheel unless it comes to her hair.

“Did a rabid squirrel brush your hair this morning, Reagan?” Ashley snips out, and I swear I visualize picking up her desk with her still in it and tossing it out the window.

But I can’t maim daddy’s hardest little worker bee, now, can I?

“Ugh,” I mutter under my breath as I take my seat, bracing myself for yet another encounter with her prissy, mean-spirited behavior. Sure enough, Ashley doesn’t disappoint. Before the professor has even arrived, she’s already gossiping loudly about one of our classmates, snickering while passing judgment on their last season heels. I look down at my combat boots and wonder how much they’d stain if I stomped on her slender neck.

“Reagan,” Ashley drawls, her voice dripping with insincerity. “Daddy’s been trying to get ahold of you, just so you know.” She smirks, clearly reveling in the fact that she gets to be the bearer of bad news.

No shit. Daddy also tried to choke the life out of me, but you don’t see me announcing that shit for show and tell .

I roll my eyes, responding sarcastically, “I know, Ash, you don’t have to play messenger.” I despise how she always makes it a point to remind me that my father—the same man who’s been cold, cruel, and sometimes outright violent toward me—favors her.

Ashley huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and pushes her cleavage that Daddy Dearest paid for, up for the horn dogs in the class to take in. “Well, maybe if you answered his calls, I wouldn’t have to give you a play-by-play of what’s going on.” She leans in closer, lowering her voice as if she’s sharing a secret. “You know, all these extravagant gifts he keeps showering me with? They’re my retirement plan. It’s nice being taken care of.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s real cozy,” I retort, my disdain barely concealed.

“Too bad you’ll never get to experience it,” she sneers. “You’re just too much of a pious bitch to know what’s good for you. Have fun struggling through life, Reagan.”

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to let my anger take over. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. Instead, I focus on taking deep breaths and reminding myself that I’m strong enough to face whatever challenges come my way—with or without my father’s help.

I can’t stand another second in this classroom with Ashley; her smug expression is like a slap to the face that I didn’t ask for. Her words echo in my head—pious bitch—and I know I have to get out of here before I lose my temper.

I quickly gather my things and make my way toward the door. The last thing I need is to cause a scene in front of everyone.

As I step out into the hallway, the cool air washes over me like a balm, calming my frayed nerves. The campus sprawls out in front of me, a maze of buildings and pathways that offer endless possibilities for distraction. Still, I find myself restless and uncertain about how to kill time until my next class. I should have stayed, but I’ll just sweet talk one of the girls in class to give me her notes.

Maybe I should hit the gym and pretend the punching bag is my stepsister’s face. I muse, considering the idea. But the thought of being cooped up inside, surrounded by sweaty, grunting strangers, doesn’t seem all that appealing right now.

I could grab a coffee in that cozy little cafe tucked away in the corner of the campus. It’s usually quiet during this time of day, offering a peaceful escape from the chaos of college life. But somehow, even that doesn’t sound enticing enough to shake off the lingering annoyance caused by Ashley’s taunts. I’m not going to feel better until I’ve graduated and I’m away from her and my dad. I’m stuck. No way to take care of myself and my sister and give her any sort of start in life. I can’t pay for an expensive school. Fuck, at this point, I could maybe get us a rental and work double shifts to put her through an inexpensive college once she graduates. I can’t pull her from school because she’s not eighteen yet, and unfortunately, I’m also not her legal guardian.

I need to regroup, stop focusing on things I can’t control, I groan internally. It’s rare that I feel so indecisive, but today, my usual go-to activities just don’t seem to be cutting it. My thoughts keep drifting back to the she-bitch’s smug smile and her infuriating remarks. She really thinks she’s setting herself up for success by being my father’s little puppet. He’d toss her in the dumpster if she wasn’t appealing to the gross men my father runs in business circles with. The only reason he keeps her manicured and dressed in high end flashy shit is so that his business associates will want to stick their dicks in her. As soon as she’s too old, or he finds someone more appealing she’ll be on her ass.

My stomach sinks because I know exactly who that someone is that he has in mind for the job.

I just need to be away from everyone, I finally decide, opting to wander aimlessly around campus, avoiding eye contact with anyone who looks like they might try to strike up a conversation. The vibes have been so off for so long in my little world that I don’t even know where to start to shake this ragey icky feeling that’s consuming me. I pop my headphones in and sigh when my favorite Chaos Theory song snakes through the mini speakers. I breathe in and out, telling myself that things are going to take time, and I need to give myself grace or I’m going to end up crashing and burning with no one in sight to douse the flames.

I stroll across campus, the sun casting dappled shadows through the leaves of the trees lining the pathways. A soft breeze rustles my hair, but it does little to alleviate my restless energy. I crave that buzzing feeling of freedom that engulfed my entire body when I slapped my father in the face. Minus the shrinking sense of doom when he overpowered me, grabbing me by the throat. Will I ever have the nerve to be the one to get him like he’s gotten so many people? Slit his throat in his sleep? My whole body tingles at the thought. I wouldn’t mind watching him beg for mercy like I begged him the night he sold my body, but I’d also settle for clean and quick. One and done, decapitation so the bastard can’t possibly survive. My thoughts race, bouncing from one idea to the next as I try to decide how to pass time until my Art History class.

I decide to just sit on a bench and people-watch and sketch for a little while. I scan my surroundings not really seeing anything interesting as I pull out my book and favorite pencil. There’s mostly just a bunch of students walking and talking like they don’t have a care in the world. Until I see maybe the most interesting thing I’ll ever lay my eyes on. My gaze lands on a guy in riding gear and a helmet, leaning against his bike. He’s alone, seemingly inconspicuous, and he might blend in if it wasn’t for his towering height. At first glance, there’s nothing particularly remarkable about him—just another student enjoying the afternoon, even if he looks six-and-half feet tall.

But then he flips the visor up, and our gazes lock for a split second. Time seems to slow as I take in his eyes–a piercing shade of greenish brown that sends a shiver down my spine. I know those eyes. They belong to one of the murder guys from the alley.

“Shit,” I gasp, feeling my breath catch in my throat. My heart beats a little louder, borderline wildly in my chest as adrenaline floods my veins. The intensity of the moment is almost overwhelming, and I struggle to keep my composure.

Keep it together, Reagan. I force a casual smirk as I pretend to focus on something else. But my mind races, trying to make sense of what I’ve just seen. Why is he here and just lounging in one of the parking lots on campus? He can’t possibly be here for me. Right?

Right?

Fucking hell. “Hey, are you okay?” a concerned voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I nearly jump out of my own skin. I look up to see a girl I vaguely recognize from one of my classes. She must have noticed my expression, and I can’t blame her—I’ve sure I look like I’ve seen a ghost.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” I stammer, attempting a nonchalant shrug, pulling an earbud out of one of my ears. “Just thought I recognized someone, that’s all.” I force a weak laugh, hoping it sounds convincing enough to deter any further questions.

“Alright,” she says hesitantly, clearly not entirely convinced. “See you next class.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, watching as she walks away. The encounter serves as a reminder of how vulnerable I am in this situation—how easily my secrets could be exposed if I’m not careful. I really thought I shook this asshole the night of the murder. There’s no way he saw enough of my face to be able to track me down. Clearly, if I was going to rat anyone out, I would have done it by now. I’ve already got my father on my ass; I don’t need to add this guy who clearly does not have any other reason to be at this fucking school, since I can still feel his eyes on me.

I make a conscious effort to keep my distance while still keeping him in sight as I walk away. My thoughts are a tangled mess of fear and curiosity, but one thing is certain; I need to find out more about this man because he clearly knows more about me than I could have even imagined.