Cameron Casey and Annabeth Taylor are about to find out just how deep a burn can hurt you. Together, they're being trained to take over the family business. Neither of them want the lives their fathers have planned out and they realize that sometim...
If you haven't already checked it out, you can get Rebel One in paperback or ebook forms. It is also in Kindle Unlimited. The link is in my bio or you can search Rebel One and my name (J.S. Christine) on Amazon! (:
Recap: Alex died. Cameron broke down then was a jerk to Annabeth (who punched him). Annabeth yelled and locked herself in her room. Finn dragged her out in the middle of the night to meet with Cameron. Cameron said, "I want to kill my dad and I need your help."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cameron. 17 years old.
A few days earlier.
There was an inch long gash on my forearm, a bruise the size of a bat forming along my shoulder blades, blood dripping down my knuckles, and a clicking in my ankle as I ran.
None of that compared to the hollowness in my chest.
Alex's death happened weeks ago but I relived that moment every breath, blink, and second of my day. I hadn't spoken to Callum since that night, not really. Instead, he glared and sneered. I knew he thought I'd embarrassed him. Caseys didn't beg, didn't plead, didn't cry on the ground when someone died.
The oncoming bruise on my back was thanks to Melkin's trusty police department. I had been out with some Caseys on a job because even though I wanted to scream at Callum until my throat was raw and hit him until my muscles seized up, I couldn't touch him.
Tonight was proof enough.
The cops showed up when we were on a job. The other Caseys I was with started running before I even noticed the cops and I had been the only one they chased.
All signs pointed to them being tipped off, both the cops and the Caseys. Callum wanted to make a statement. I was weak the day Alex died and some time behind bars would do me good. The Caseys did what Callum paid them to do. That meant I couldn't do anything to him, at least not right now. Any aggression towards Callum, any back talk - and I was sure the Caseys would look the other way when he retaliated, just like tonight. They certainly didn't make any attempts to help me outrun the cops.
When a cop hit me on my back, possibly with a bat, I fell to the ground. My hands scraped the ground and I couldn't feel the sting but I saw the blood forming on my palms immediately. I didn't have time to feel. The cop grabbed at me with one hand and had handcuffs in his other.
I didn't think, I just punched. The fall to the gravel and the cop's face were the cause of my bloody knuckles.
I bolted away, down alleys, side streets, and hopped over a fence. It was the fence that slashed my forearm.
When I landed on the other side of the fence, my feet came down hard on the ground and my right one hit something I couldn't make out because it was dark and I wasn't stopping to survey my surroundings when Callum hired cops to arrest me. Again, I didn't have the time. All I knew was my foot wobbled on the landing and my ankle clicked every time I flexed my foot after that.
