Seeing her brother yesterday had really messed with her.
Worse, it had her thinking.
What if what he said was true? What if he’d been trying to survive just like she had been doing all those years? In truth, Craig had always had more of Samuel Drake’s attention than she did. Her father had watched him more, pushed him harder, beat whatever softness he’d ever had straight out of him. And if Katrina were being honest, Craig probably had it worse than she did. Most of the time the bastard just ignored her, until she turned on him.
But she had always thought that was what her brother wanted. To be like him and stand beside Samuel Drake. She had believed for so long he wanted to become the same kind of monster and enjoyed being groomed to be the next president of the Iron Drakes.
What if she had been wrong? She had never asked.
The thought twisted hard in her chest. What if he had suffered too? What if he had stood there doing nothing while their mother was violated and murdered, not because he didn’t care, but because if he showed even one crack or ounce of weakness, he would be next? Had he been as afraid of Samuel as she was.
“Shit,” Katrina hissed, pushing away from the fence.
She didn’t want to think like that. Didn’t want to feel anything close to sympathy for him. It was easier to hate Craig. Hate had sharp edges she understood. What she didn’t understand was why she was having thoughts like this? Thoughts that dug under her skin making her question things she had believed and locked away a long damn time ago.
Continuing around to the other side of the warehouse, Katrina forced her eyes to keep moving, searching every shadow, broken window and place someone could hide. But her mind kept pulling her back.
As a little girl, she had dreamed of having a normal family. A big family. She remembered telling her mom one day she would marry a man who would always take care of her, never hit her or swear at her. He would treat her like a queen. She wanted three boys and two girls, and a house where no one screamed, no one bled, and no one had to sleep with one eye open.
Her mother had always smiled and encouraged her. Back then, Katrina had believed that smile.
Now, older and not nearly as innocent, she understood the sadness behind it. Her mother had known that dreams like Katrina’s didn’t survive the Iron Drakes. Not as long as Samuel Drake breathed.
Her brother had been right about one thing. They would never be free.
No matter how far she ran, who she loved, or how hard she tried to bury the name Drake and everything that came with it, the Iron Drakes were still there, crawling through the cracks of her life like a sickness that refused to die.
Katrina stopped at the back corner of the warehouse, her jaw tight as she stared into the darkness.
She had Blaze now, and that was enough. At least part of her dream had come true. He wasn’t some prince from a little girl’s fantasy, and honestly, thank God for that. Blaze was real. Rough around the edges, protective as hell, and loved her in a way she still sometimes struggled to believe she deserved.
But somewhere deep inside, that scared little girl was still waiting for the sound of motorcycles in the distance. Still waiting for the past to come roaring back and take everything good from her.
And now her brother had shown up to tell her that her fears were coming to pass.
The past wasn’t done with her.
Hearing voices that weren’t Blaze or Jared’s, Katrina glanced over her shoulder. Three men were walking toward the warehouse. She moved slightly into the shadows, listening, but they spotted her.
“You need to get out of here, girl,” one man said as they headed her way.
Katrina’s jaw tightened. “I was about to tell you the same thing.”
The man in the middle slowed, his eyes moving over her. “This place ain’t safe.”
“Then leave.” Katrina pushed away from the wall, keeping enough distance between them while trying not to let them see that her mind was running through everything Blaze had taught her. Watch their hands. Watch their feet. Don’t let them close in. Don’t panic.
Easy to say during training. Not so easy when three men were spreading out in front of her and the old fear from a life she’d fought hard to escape started clawing its way up her throat.
The one closest to her reached out, and Katrina moved before he could grab her. She caught his wrist, twisted, and drove her knee up. She missed where she’d been aiming, but hit him hard enough to make him curse and stumble back.
Good enough.
Katrina ducked the second guy’s swing, shoved him back with enough strength to make his eyes widen, but he didn’t go down. Before she could recover, the third grabbed her jacket and yanked her hard toward the brick wall. Pain shot through her shoulder as she hit sideways, stealing her breath, but she used the angle, whipping her elbow back and catching him in the mouth before he could pin her there.
He let go with a grunt, blood gushing out his nose.
Katrina’s fangs lengthened, anger pushing past the fear. “Touch me again and lose the hand.”
