Across the Vanishing Sky (Starlight Grove, #1)(95)

Breathe, Brae. Just breathe.

I straightened, calling on all my strength. I’d endured more than pampered Vincent could ever fathom, and that meant he didn’t stand a chance against me. “I wish I could say the same.”

Vincent chuckled. “Looks like you’ve found a little more fire. Gotta say, it looks good on you. Way better than the simpering girl from the wrong side of the tracks.”

It was funny how you could see things more clearly with distance, recognize patterns you never saw before. Like how Vincent’s compliments always seemed to come with an insult. Raising you up and cutting you down all at once.

And the wrong side of the tracks for him could be someone who had millions instead of billions. My parents might’ve been judgmental assholes, but they worked hard for the home they owned in a community they built deep roots in. But I guessed that was part of being family: I could judge them, but Vincent sure as hell couldn’t.

“Hate to see you breathing commoners’ air. Maybe you should go back to your compound.”

One corner of Vincent’s mouth kicked up. “Gotta handle some business first.”

I stiffened, my blood turning cold. “What do you want?”

“Well, Braedyn, you made a real mess of things.”

My fists clenched at my sides as rage built, but I knew better than to play into Vincent’s hand. So I waited. He had no patience. Too eager to get what he wanted or inflict some sort of pain.

“You just had to go around blabbing to any news outlet that would listen.”

I frowned. News outlet? And then it dawned. “The articles about Nova?”

“Ding, ding, ding. She’s not as stupid as she looks, folks.”

My skin bristled as I fought the urge to pop him one in his perfect nose.

“You fucked up. Because one of those articles got reprinted in The Harbor Gazette,” Vincent went on, the hints of anger bleeding into his tone.

Confusion swirled as I tried to figure out why Vincent would give one damn about an article covering Nova’s disappearance. She meant nothing to him. He’d constantly demeaned her in front of me and suggested I find new friends.

“‘Nova is the kindest, most giving soul you’ll ever meet. She gave up everything to help me raise my son when I was doing it on my own.’” Vincent snarled the words, spitting them out like bullets.

I recognized them then. It was an interview I’d done ahead of the one-year anniversary of Nova’s disappearance with a paper in Redding, California. I never thought about Vincent reading it. The words weren’t a dig at him. They were the truth—one I shared to show who Nova was. How generous. How amazing.

“My fucking brother read that article and started putting two and two together.”

Oh shit.

“My family doesn’t like bastards, Braedyn.”

My spine snapped straight. “Don’t you ever call my son that ugly word. Say it again, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Vincent made a tsking noise. “Now, now, Braedyn. Threats are just uncalled for. Is this the sort of example you’re setting for my son?”

“He’s not yours,” I gritted out. “He’s nothing of yours. You didn’t raise him. You didn’t even make him. I’m convinced because he has none of your ugliness.”

“Watch your mouth,” Vincent growled.

“You stay the hell away from us. Crawl back into your pompous, pampered hole and never come back.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere. Because my parents want to meet their grandson. And lucky for you, they’re willing to pay. If you sign over custody now, they’ll make sure you live in whatever luxury this hovel of a town can provide.”

I saw red. I’d never really understood the phrase before, but I understood it now. A filmy, ruby haze settled over my vision. “First, you want me to ‘get rid’ of your son, then you want to pay me to deny he exists, and now you want to buy Owen off me? He’s a human being. He’s not for sale.”

Vincent let out a huff. “Don’t be so dramatic. Money makes the world go ’round. And like you’ve made such a good life for him? Living in dangerous neighborhoods with hand-me-down clothes and never having the things he wants.”

Every word was a knife to the gut. Because so many of them were true. “Get out of here. Or the next article your family sees will be the one about how the Fabers try to buy children.”

Vincent moved so fast, I didn’t have a prayer of dodging him. He grabbed my wrist so hard I let out a gasp of pain. “Listen to me, you little cunt, you are going to shut your fucking mouth and do as you’re told. If my parents want their bastard grandchild, then they’re going to get him.”

Pain burned in my wrist, but it was nothing compared to the terror racing through me.

Vincent grabbed my arm harder, shaking me. “Do. You. Understand?”

The panic shifted to anger, overtaking the fear. The fingers of my free hand slipped into my jeans pocket and closed around my tiny pepper spray. I tugged it free, flipping the cap and taking aim at Vincent’s eyes. I sprayed.

The howl that left his mouth was like a high-pitched animal cry. His hold on my wrist dropped away as he pawed at his eyes. I didn’t wait. I brought my knee up, connecting directly with his balls before shoving him back.