"Warn her if you must," Hank said quietly, reaching for his fresh drink. "We'll afford you that, but nothing more. Call her and tell her to get the hell out of Colridge as fast as she can."
Chapter 74
Brea sat in the bedroom she'd grown up in, with her knees drawn up to her chest. The walls, once a vibrant shade of pink had dulled to a rose-tinted hue. She could still remember the summer her Dad had painted her room for her. How even after they'd thrown the windows open wide, the house still smelt of paint for days.
"Do you like it sweetheart?" he'd asked her when he'd finished, his handsome face speckled with pink paint.
"I love it," Brea had gushed, beaming madly. Her bedroom now looked fit for a princess.
"It sucks," Sylar had scoffed from the doorway, his hair dyed black and hanging across his eyes like a gothic curtain.
Brea had felt her chin start to wobble before her father enveloped her in his arms, shielding her from her brother's dark comments. Even back then, when life was good, Sylar had seemed distant and angry as if he always knew the terrible fate which awaited them both.
"You okay?" Sylar was once again in her doorway, only now he was a man instead of a boy. Although the same hidden demons seemed to dance behind his tired eyes.
"Yeah," Brea straightened against the wall. The narrow bed she was sitting on now seemed too small compared to the double one she had back in Colridge. Thinking of her apartment made her insides twist uncomfortably. What if she never again saw Colridge? Saw Miles? As angry as she was at him she still missed him, still loved him.
"You need to just hang tight here for a while," Sylar explained, casually leaning against the door frame. "At least until things blow over. I am so sorry for this Brea."
"How long will that be?"
Her brother shrugged. "Who knows?"
Brea coughed to push against the tightness she suddenly felt in her throat. She was once again a prisoner in the family home, being held there by her brother's will.
"I can't stay here long," she told him briskly. "I've got a job and - "
"You need to forget all about your old life in Colridge," Sylar snapped. "It's not safe for you there."
Brea blinked back tears. She couldn't accept that everything her brother was saying was true, that Miles was part of some dangerous motorcycle gang. That Miles was capable of hurting people, that he may have even hurt the nice girl who worked in the bar in town.
"This is for your own good," Sylar continued. "You'll thank me one day."
"Hey, man. You're out of beer," Smith called from the kitchen. Sylar leaned back from the door to shout to his friend.
"I'll run out and pick some more up. Are you okay to stay here?"
Brea tensed. She knew what her brother wasn't saying. Smith was supposed to stay there and keep an eye on her, make sure she didn't go running back to Colridge. But why? What weren't they telling her?
"I'll come with you," she dropped off the bed and dusted herself off.
"No," Sylar swiftly extended his palm towards her, his expression severe. "You stay here, where it's safe."
"Sylar, you're being ridiculous - "
"Brea, just do as I say. Okay?" an edge had crept into her brother's voice which made Brea slowly sit back down on the bed. She was starting to question who exactly she should be fearing.
"I'll be back in like twenty minutes," Sylar was reaching into the pockets of his jeans, checking how much cash he had on him. "In the meantime, Smith is here if you need anything."
"Am I a prisoner here, Sylar? Again? Really?"
"No," Sylar scoffed at the question. "Of course not."
"But I can't leave."
"Brea," he sighed and took a step into her room. His face was softer now, as too was his voice. He once again looked took on the role of the concerned brother. "You saw what Miles' pack did to Smith? I'm just trying to keep you safe, you have to be able to see that."
Brea nodded.
"Good," Sylar reached forward and ruffled her hair the way he used to do when they were kids. Brea couldn't help but smile fondly at the gesture.
"Sit tight and I'll be back before you know it."
Sat once again on her bed with her back against the wall, Brea listened to her brother's departing footsteps, followed by the click of the front door closing and shortly after that the roar of his motorcycle's engine as he pulled out of the driveway. Sighing deeply, she tilted her head towards the ceiling. She'd lost count of how many hours she'd lie in her bed and look up at the cracks in the paint, daydreaming about how they might actually be some sort of secret map to a better life. Brea had been so unhappy in her home after her parent's died. And finally she'd got out, found somewhere she could truly be herself only to have it all taken from her; to once again be back where she started. A solitary tear slid down her cheek and dropped onto her faded duvet. Brea sniffed and wiped at her face, willing herself to be strong. But she needed Miles more than ever and he wasn't there. Some strange woman had answered his phone and now Brea doubted if he even loved her anymore.
Chapter 75
Miles wasted no time leaving the bar. He beat a swift retreat through the crowd, ignoring the ache in his head from his fresh stitches. Once he was out on the parking lot, the cool air of the late afternoon hit him like a brick wall. The painkillers in his system made him feel woozy and almost drunk. Slowing he reached for the exterior wall of the bar to steady himself.
"Come on, hold it together," he urged himself. He fumbled for his cell phone and dialed Brea's number before pulling it up to his good ear. Inhaling sharply he listened to each elongated ring and prayed that she'd pick up.
Chapter 76
Brea jumped in surprise as her cell phone started ringing. Cautiously she removed it from her pocket and glanced at the number flashing up on the screen.
Miles.
Her whole body tumbled off the bed like an uncoiled spring as she hastily closed her bedroom door, being careful not to make too much noise and attract Smith's attention. She could picture him sat on the sofa down the hall, pretending to watch television when he was actually listening out for her like some sort of prison warden.
For a moment, Brea didn't know whether to take the call. Her finger lingered over the green button as she bit her lip and battled with indecision. Finally, her heart won out over her head and she accepted.
"Hi," she hoped that her voice sounded as brittle and hurt as she felt.
"Hey," Miles sounded huskier than usual. And tired. What was going on with him lately? A pang of fear streaked through Brea as she considered that maybe her brother was right about him.
"Where are you?" he croaked the question at her.
"I should ask you the same thing!" Brea retorted contritely, hot tears burning in her eyes. "I called you earlier and some … some woman answered!"
"She was just … a friend," Miles replied vaguely. "I'm sorry if she was rude to you. Where are you?"
"I'm at home."
"In your apartment?" Miles sounded alarmed by this.
"No, home-home. With my brother and his friend."
"Why are you there?"
Brea shrugged to herself. "He came to pick me up earlier, insisting I needed to get out of Colridge."
She heard Miles swallow nervously on the other end of the line.
"A bar in Colridge got turned over last night," she was shaking as she spoke, hoping against hope that Sylar was wrong. "Did you have anything to do with that?"
"Brea - "
"Don't even think about lying to me!"
"Yes," Miles sighed in defeat. "I was there. I was involved."
Brea clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from sobbing out loud. Miles was a monster. She'd fallen in love with a beast. Trembling she scrambled back onto her bed needing to be close to the familiar duvet of her childhood.
"Are you part of some … some gang?" she could barely ask the question.
"Yes," Miles admitted softly. "But Brea, it's not like you think."
"So you don't go around cruelly beating on people? You don't throw acid onto a stranger's face?"
"No, to the latter," Miles' voice sounded fragile as though it might break. "Brea, I've done some stuff I'm not proud of, God knows. I made some really bad choices when I was younger. But my Uncle scooped me up when I had nothing and no one. When my Mom abandoned me, I didn't have a big brother to step in and take care of me."