The Wild Charge (Dartmoor Book 9)

Forty

This sucked. It sucked so much.

Cassandra didn't have the same hang-ups about Dad that her sister and brothers did. For the longest time, they'd shaken their heads and waved away her inquiries about Devin's sins against them. They hadn't wanted to taint her opinion, given that Devin had, "inexplicably" according to Raven, spent more time being a part of Cassandra's childhood than he had with any of the rest of them. Cassandra's mother, who likewise didn't hate him as much as the other mothers, had said, "I'm not saying he's a good man – but he's getting older, and I think that's changed his priorities." And so Cass had fuzzy memories of him tucking her in at night when she was small; he'd visited often, and brought her gifts, and called her "my girl." He wasn't like her friend's fathers: parked in front of rugby with a beer; Sunday afternoons at the park; Christmas mornings – except for that one time – or her cringey school plays. But he was a real father, in his own way. And she didn't hate him.

She'd grown up knowing, however, that thanks to his past career and exploits, and thanks to her brothers' involvement with the Lean Dogs, life wasn't the candy-coated adventure of so many childhoods. The world was a dangerous place full of dangerous people. But everyone from Phil down tended to be too nervous; too cynical and overeager to assume that everyone who so much as looked at them funny was some sort of enemy. There were good people out there, too. Friends. Allies. Safe places and good intentions.

The clinic was real enough, that they'd been able to confirm through multiple sources. And the friends she'd met in the chat had shared photos of themselves, and their art; they spoke like people her age, liked the same shows she did. They had a lot in common!

Apparently, she'd been catfished.

She wanted to die.

She sighed and fiddled with her hair where it lay over her shoulders. She'd chosen her outfit weeks ago with bubbly excitement in her stomach, but now all she felt was regret and nerves. The reason their suites had turned into a circus, the reason her brothers had come to the city, was because she'd been careless. Because she'd once again proved herself to be the little kid of the family, the stupid baby who didn't know any better.

It sucked.

Someone rapped on the doorframe, and she turned to find her dad with a shoulder resting casually against the jamb, arms folded.

He smiled. "Ready to go?"

She found she couldn't smile back, but nodded. "Yeah."

She gathered her bag and portfolio on the way out of the bedroom, thankful, when she reached the sitting room behind Dad, that Raven had another assignment today. Fox's stare was judgmental enough.

He was flanked by Reese, and that angry-faced Russian Dog, Toly. A few of Ian's men loitered in their black suits, waiting for instructions, and Abe was ready to go, sipping coffee out of a travel cup. It was a small group, compared to Tenny and Raven's respective entourages, but Cass could admit that Fox and Dad were worth more than a few hired guns.

"Alright," Fox said. "Let's go over it again."

"I remember from last night," she said.

"Still." His voice was flat and unhappy. "Again."

Cassandra bit back a sigh. "We're going to go in through the front door and I'm going to check in while you guys pretend not to be as conspicuous as hell."

Devin snorted and grinned.

"Then, I'll go into orientation, point out Brandon and Kaitlin, and wait for you guys to" – she gestured – "ruin my chances of an art scholarship."