Chapter 21

"Get your ass in here," Sam shoved him toward the door.

The grip on his neck tightened as he tried to move away, hoping to escape to his room. Instead, the hulking man shoved him down the hall toward his stepbrother's study.

Nelson and Brad both looked up as Sam dragged him into the room.

"What's going on?" Brad narrowed his eyes, and Devyn felt himself just wanting to run out the door.

"He doesn't have the backpack," Sam growled, shaking his neck like he would a dog, and Devyn winced silently.

"What?" Brad shot out of his chair. "Where is it?"

"He says he forgot it on the floor of Jason's car. It was sitting at his feet, and he didn't think about it when Jason told him to hurry up and get out."

Devyn saw his stepbrother calm slightly. "So, it's with Jase. Just call him and have him bring it back."

"I tried already," Sam said. "He was talking to someone as he left. I just got voicemail."

"Keep trying. He's got to get off the phone sooner or later," Brad said, then turned his icy gaze to Devyn for several long minutes. "Sam, send him out to Trent and Chris. They can watch Devyn while Jason is gone."

Devyn was escorted out to the kitchen area. He couldn't help the breath of relief that escaped him when he was finally out of his stepbrother's presence. They ran into Trent in the foyer.

"Brad needs you to watch Devyn. Jason is on a break visiting his father. Keep him in the kitchen with you. He can sit while you work," Sam said as he handed Devyn over to the other man.

"Sure thing," Trent smiled easily, and Devyn stepped closer to the tall, dark man, finding some comfort in being near someone who had not physically hurt him. Anything to be away from Sam or Brad, or even Nelson. "Come on, kid, you can help dust."

He saw Chris sitting at the small wooden table, peeling apples with a small paring knife, green peels in one pile and apple slices piling up in a large bowl.

Chris smiled as they came into the room. "Hey, Devyn. Where's Jason?"

Devyn managed a shrug and tried not to look either man in the eye as he pulled away from Trent and plopped down at the table, but he noticed the odd look that passed between the men.

"Uh, Brad said Jason is visiting his father," Trent said, clearing his throat.

"I see," Chris said, then smiled broadly. "I'm making apple pie for dessert tonight. Do you think you'd like that, Devyn?"

Devyn just slouched into a chair at the table. He dropped his chin on his arms as he stared out the large window of the breakfast nook. He was glad when the two men seemed to get the hint and gave up trying to engage him in conversation.

He could see Serenity in the pasture, grazing peacefully, and he desperately wished he could be out there with her. He missed her. He missed ...

Michael.

Unbidden, Michael's smiling face flooded his thoughts. Movement from the edge of the barn had him hoping for a second that he might see the other teen again, but he realized it was just Lyle.

He hadn't realized just how long he'd sat there staring out the window, until he noticed that Chris had a huge pile of apple peels next to him and a bowl now full of apple slices. He barely registered the harsh click of dress shoes on the hardwood floor behind him before he saw Chris look up in alarm.

Devyn barely turned, rising from the seat as he caught a glimpse of Brad striding toward him, his face hard with fury. Devyn didn't even see Brad's arm move, only feeling the hard smack to the side of his face. His head snapped to the side as he tumbled backwards, colliding forcefully with the table, sending apples, peels, and bowl flying.

"Shit!" Chris jumped up in shock, sending his chair tumbling backwards.

"Brad! What--" he vaguely heard Trent's voice.

Devyn felt his eyes blur as the pain rocketed through his head from cracking on the table. He tried to get up off the table, but only managed to roll off the edge, dropping to the floor with the rest of the table's contents. Before he had time to even realize what had happened, he felt Brad's huge hand in his hair, yanking him to his feet.

"Where the hell did he go?" Brad snarled in his face.

Devyn panted, trying to breathe as his stepbrother's other hand snaked around his throat, and he felt himself shoved up against the wall.

"Where?!" Brad yelled, slamming him against the wall again.

Devyn gasped as his head cracked against the wall. He scrabbled at Brad's hand, trying to loosen the hold as he struggled for air. The edges of his vision darkened as he could feel his pulse pounding under the man's fingers.

"Brad! Stop it! You're going to kill him!" he heard a voice, maybe Chris, but it didn't matter, Brad wasn't paying him any attention.

"What the hell, Brad?" Trent, he was sure that one was Trent.

For a second, the grip on his neck loosened as Brad turned to address the other men.

"Stay the fuck out of this!" Brad snapped. "Jason didn't go to visit his father. So I want to know where he went."

Devyn tried to shake his head to say he didn't know anything, but that just caused more pain--not that Brad would probably have believed him anyway. Brad's fingers tightened as he turned his attention back on Devyn.

^Please...^ Devyn tried as he gasped for more air.

Brad opened his mouth to yell something else, but his phone went off in his pocket. Brad's eyes narrowed at him, but he loosened his grip as he turned slightly to answer his phone.

Devyn slipped to the floor, coughing and choking, his hand holding his sore neck. Fuck, that was close. He dragged in gulps of air as he slumped onto his side.

"He's where?!" he heard Brad's voice snarl. "What the fuck is he doing at the police station?!"

Oh, shit. Devyn froze, his world tilting on its side as he realized that someone just called to tell Brad that Jason was at the police station. Goddamnit, it had to be that asshole deputy. Why the hell couldn't the man have been out on patrol?

There was a pause as Brad listened to whomever was on the other end of the line. Devyn could hear Brad's breaths becoming harsher, his nostrils flaring.

"Then find the fuck out!" Brad snapped, ending the call and throwing the phone across the room. The phone shattered on the wall with a loud splintering of plastic.

"Fuck!"

Devyn suddenly felt pain explode in his ribs, sure this time he felt some crack as Brad's pointed dress shoe kicked him several times.

"Brad!" Trent's voice called, and Devyn thought that maybe he even heard someone else getting hit, but he had no idea who, his eyes just wouldn't focus. "You're going to--"

"Get out!" Brad snapped. "You too!"

Devyn managed to crack his eyes open enough through his pain to see Sam shoving Chris and Trent through the garage door. A click told him they were locked out, and Devyn was now the sole focus of Brad's fury.

"What the hell is he telling the police, huh, Devyn?" Brad's voice floated over him.

Devyn couldn't even shake his head. God, his ribs hurt. He tried to breathe and his chest felt like it was ripping open. He felt Brad grab a fistful of hair, forcing Devyn to sit up against the wall.

"Is he thinking he can take my money and turn it in to the police? You think they'll believe him? Does he think that you'll talk too?" Brad ranted, yanking on the blond's head forcefully. "You won't, will you, Devyn? Because you know what will happen, right?"

Devyn felt the tears slipping down his face as Brad's hot breath ghosted over his ear.

"First, your grandmother will have another nasty fall. Then maybe Jason's father will have a sudden heart attack..."

^No, no, no...^ Devyn tried to shake his head, pleading with his stepbrother for mercy--for innocent people who knew nothing of this.

"Then how about ..." Brad pretended to be thinking, "Oh, Lyle's mother might just accidentally overdose on pain meds for that horrible cancer she has," Brad's voice mocked. "Oh, and let's see, Trent's girl friend could get mugged."

Devyn yanked his arm, trying wildly to hit Brad, but the man just held him firmly.

"And then that boy of yours, Michael..."

^No...^ Devyn felt his body drain of energy, ^No.^

"And all of it will be on your head," Brad sneered. "Does he really think you or any of these guys here will back up anything he tries to tell the police? I'll fucking destroy--"

"Brad!" Nelson's voice snapped Brad from his focus on Devyn.

"What?!" Brad shot back irritably, looking up.

Devyn saw the man holding out a phone.

"It's Watson," Nelson said calmly, and Devyn wondered how the man could just stand there and watch.

Brad took a quick look at Devyn before slamming his fist into the side of the boy's cheek. Devyn felt a silent cry escape his sore throat as the pain exploded in his jaw. He let himself slide to his side on the floor, tasting blood in his mouth as it dripped to the floor under him, oozing onto the mess of apple peels and scattered bits of sliced apples. He just didn't have the energy to fight anymore. For a moment, he thought Brad might finally kill him, and Devyn prayed that he would. He just didn't want to hurt anymore. He was just so fucking tired of hurting all the time.

But Brad wouldn't do him that mercy, he was sure of it. He'd rather watch Devyn suffer, knowing he was responsible for others getting hurt--or killed. He sobbed silently. Oh, God, Nana... Michael ...

"He says that Yates showed up to file a complaint," Nelson said, and Devyn could feel the man's eyes drifting over him, but he didn't have the energy to open his eyes. "Against the nursing home. For Neglect."

Brad stiffened next to him, seeming suddenly confused. "Neglect?"

And Devyn wanted to laugh at the sound of Brad suddenly realizing that maybe, just maybe, he had made a mistake, that he might have jumped to conclusions about the bodyguard in his panic. But it hurt so much just to breathe that he couldn't enjoy the moment of regret that laced Brad's voice as he grabbed the phone.

He heard Brad stalk away, his voice now hushed, but still tense. He could hear all three men's footsteps fading away as they stalked back down the foyer. Apparently, they were now willing to ignore him, since the immediate threat of exposure had passed with the insight that Jason wasn't at the station broadcasting Brad's illegal activities.

Devyn grabbed his side, cradling his ribs as he tried to breathe. He rolled over, trying to get to his knees by grabbing the edge of the table to pull himself up. The twisting sent a spike of pain from his ribs up his spine, and he crashed back onto the floor.

Shit, he groaned to himself, his hand slipping across the floor in the mess of blood and apple peels. His hand hit something harder than an apple slice, and he raised his eyes as it shifted against his fingers.

The paring knife.

Tears welled up in his eyes, as he breathed in a odd sigh of hope, of relief. He almost laughed to himself as his slender fingers wrapped around his salvation.

He turned his eyes toward the foyer where he'd last seen his tormentor, blood blurring the vision of his right eye. His grip tightened on the small black handle, a new sense of determination flooding him. He was tired of hurting, he was tired of fighting, he was tired of feeling afraid. He drew in a ragged breath as he dragged himself across the floor, struggling to his feet. He was done being hurt by Brad Milburn.