Okay, let me tell you a story.

Somewhere in the north of England, there lives a town called Greencliff. It's a small town – tiny, in fact – but it has huge problems.

In this town, there lived a man – a bad man – a ruthless drug dealer with a keen eye for business. He was charming, smart, and resourceful, but above all else he was pure evil.

This man met a woman – as most stories go – and this woman had it all. Brains, beauty, a bright future – she was going on to do great things with her life, she had dreams and goals and plans. She was unstoppable (or at least so she thought) and from the moment he laid eyes on her, the man wanted her.

As it turns out, the woman wasn't so bright. She fell for his charm, his flirting, his jokes. She let him drag her so far into his world that her future began to dim. She ignored her friends when they warned her he was bad, pushed them away, and cut them out of her life. She got caught up in the drugs – a lot of them – and eventually fell pregnant with the man's child.

She had no money, no friends, no options. He offered for her to move into his house and, obviously, she agreed. What choice did she have? It was that or sleep on the streets and, logically, she knew which would be easier access to a high. So what if he'd invite his friends over? So what if she'd have to 'entertain'? She wouldn't remember it anyway.

Although here's the thing, the real kicker to this story: she wasn't the only one.

When she moved into his house, another woman was living there, a mother to a young girl. Then, a year or so later, another woman appeared, also pregnant, with nowhere else to go.

Three women all caught in his web – all desperate, all junkies, and all with a child (his child) that they couldn't provide for.

Three daughters.

His three daughters.

How do I know all this, you ask? Well, that's easy.

It's because I'm one of them.

I grew up with a mother who could barely remember my name, too far off her face most days to even know her own. I grew up with two other girls, one younger and one older, who were always as scared and hungry as I was. And, of course, I grew up with him.

We were found when I was seven, living in the filthy cramped basement of his house, just on the outskirts of town. He'd been busted at a business deal gone wrong and was eventually sent to prison. The two girls and I got thrown into the ruthless world of foster care, bouncing from family to family until we eventually got placed with the Crawford's – a nice married couple willing to take us in as a trio. It was a lucky save.

Once the man was taken away, my mother disappeared. She didn't come back for me. She didn't even say goodbye.

At first, that hurt. Eventually, I realised it was the kindest thing she had ever done for me. It really was for the best.

She had never provided me with the care that the Crawford's could. She had never bought me new clothes, or any toys to play with. She had barely remembered to feed me most days.

I was that forgotten puppy people buy at Christmas, love for a while, but soon lose interest in.

From the minute I was saved from that life I promised myself I would never let myself become my mother. I would never allow myself to be sucked back into that world. I wanted to create a bright future for myself, and become the woman my mother should have been.

That's why, when Lucas Coleman and two of his brothers (Finn and Andrew) walk into Wilson's café during my evening shift, my good mood sours.

They've never bothered with this place before.

The three brothers glance around the café, their distaste clear as they take in the dingy interior.

The place isn't much, I know: small with pale yellow walls and worn brown furniture. The wooden floor has seen better days, years of tables and chairs being dragged around leaving it scraped and scuffed in places. Even the paint on the exterior is chipped and cracked, not entirely advertising a high-end business.

Still, their judgement irritates me. Where do they get off judging anyone?

It's no secret to the people of Greencliff that the Coleman's aren't exactly outstanding members of the community. Actually, no, they do stand out. That's the problem.

Fighting, dealing, stealing... it's all you ever hear about them. As I said, Greencliff is a tiny town. Word gets around and, for the last three years since their parents disappeared, word seems to focus on the Coleman brothers a lot.

There are five brothers in total, every single one of them running with the wrong crowd in one way or another. They're all criminals, they're all dangerous, and they're all terrifying.

As a general rule, people steer clear.

Lucas, the oldest brother, has already served time for dealing and assault. Some of the others have also been arrested, although I'm pretty sure the charges were dropped.

I'm not surprised, to be honest. The law enforcement around here is a joke. Either they can't find any hard evidence against these guys or they simply don't care.

I'm betting on the latter.

Please leave.

I watch as the Coleman's choose a booth by the window and my final hopes dwindle to dust. It looks like they're here to stay.

Excellent.

Finn and Andrew sit down while Lucas makes his way over to the counter, and the person behind the till, who just so happens to be me.

Silently, I pray for the appearance of either Paul or Ellie (my boss or his daughter) to come and save me. They don't show and, as Lucas stops in front of me, I'm forced to school my face into a polite smile.

Never in my life have I been this close to Lucas Coleman. It's weird, seeing his dark eyes (green, apparently) in this much detail. For the first time, I can see the small scar just below his left eyebrow, and the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under his jacket.

Even knowing those two things, that he has a scar and a tattoo, is way more information than I want to know about the guy.

My gut churns uncomfortably. Usually, this guy is only a threat from afar. Now, here he stands, waiting for me to open my mouth and ask for his damned order.

According to my friend, Megan, the Coleman brothers were born from the gene pool of a God.

Personally, I don't get the whole attraction to the broody and mysterious type. A nice face doesn't make up for the effort it would take to draw just one sentence out of this guy – and it sure as hell isn't worth the amount of illegal baggage that follows him around every corner.

The Coleman's mostly stick to themselves and that's how they like it. That's how I like it. They're nothing but trouble.

Come on, Jade. It's time to use that excellent customer service you're always being complimented on.

"Hello, what can I get for you?" I ask, surprised – and a little proud – at the warmth I manage to put into my voice.

"Three black coffees," he states, bringing a hand up to brush the dark hair from his eyes.

A 'please' wouldn't kill you.

"Regular or large?" I ask, moving to type the order into the till.

"Large."

"Sure thing," I reply, ringing up three large americanos.

He pays with cash and I offer to bring the drinks over when they're ready. Without another word, he returns to his brothers.

"You're welcome," I mutter under my breath once he's well out of earshot, turning to the coffee machine behind me. As I put the coffee shots on, I hear footsteps coming up beside me.

"Where have you been?" I ask, turning to Ellie as she stops beside me, her blonde ponytail swishing behind her.

"Sorry, the phone was ringing upstairs," she replies.

Paul and Ellie Wilson both live in the apartment above the café, spending most of their waking hours down here trying to keep the place running, carrying on the business after the loss of Erica, Ellie's mother, nearly two years ago.

Ellie took the loss hard, although she refused to show it, and it hit Paul even harder. They're troopers, though, always marching on to keep Erica's café going. I love them for that, and not just because it means I get to keep my job. They do it for Erica, to keep her dreams alive. It's as heart-breaking as it is heart-warming.

"Anyone important?" I ask, pouring the boiling water into three white mugs and tipping the shots of coffee in after.

"Not really," she says, shaking her head and looking around the room. "I told them I'd call ba-"

Her sentence breaks off and I glance over to see if she's okay, the slight crease of her forehead informing me of what, or more specifically who, she's spotted.

"They've never come in here before," she mumbles, her voice considerably quieter. I place the mugs on a tray.

"Hopefully they won't become regulars," I reply.

That would not be good for business.

Three pairs of eyes focus on me as I approach the window booth and my nerves skyrocket. I have to be extra careful not to trip over my own feet as I walk.

The brothers all look very similar, sharing the same angular features and strong jawlines. Of the three of them, it's Finn – the second oldest – who stands out the most. His short, fiery hair contrasts dramatically against the raven strands of his brothers', and, being the only redhead amongst the five, it gives his sharp features an almost fox-like quality. A quality that sets me on edge as he smothers a smirk behind his hand, his elbow resting on the table as he watches me.

Once at the table, I carefully balance the tray on one hand and use the other to hand out the drinks.

"Here you go, sorry for the wait," I say politely, trying not to squirm under their unrelenting gazes. There's just something about them that's so... intimidating. So intense.

"Thank you," Andrew – the third oldest and, as such, the middle brother –  says when I place the last coffee down in front of him. His voice is surprisingly gentle for someone sporting a bruise the size of Jupiter on the side of his jaw.

I smile, somewhat awkwardly, before retreating next to Ellie behind the counter.

"So, do you want the good or bad news?" she asks, smirking slightly as she leans against the counter.

"Um... the good news?" I ask.

"Lucas Coleman is totally into you. His eyes were glued to your ass your entire walk back here."

Yeah, right.

"And the bad news?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"Lucas Coleman is totally into you. His eyes were glued to your ass your entire walk back here."

Of course.

Ellie is always doing this, reading into things that aren't there. If it were down to her, every guy who so much as smiles at me would be 'totally into me'.

Those rules don't apply to her, though. According to her, the lad who 'forgot' his change yesterday didn't do it for another chance to talk to her. I beg to differ – so did the look on his face as Ellie handed over the thirty pence.

I shake my head in exasperation as I glance back at the Coleman's... only to find that Lucas is still staring at me. Our eyes briefly meet before he looks away, paying attention to whatever Finn is saying. His hair falls into his eyes as he shakes his head and starts talking, brushing it out of the way with his hand.

"I think Mr Blood-and-knives likes what he sees," Ellie pushes when I don't reply.

I raise a bemused eyebrow at her. "Boyfriend, remember?"

"Ah, yes," she grins, waggling her eyebrows at me. "How is mister Dyl-iscious?"

"He's good," I reply, my grin mirroring hers. "He's stressing over exams a bit. You know how his parents are."

Dylan Butler is my boyfriend of two years, as of last Saturday. We met in our year ten History class and things slowly developed from there.

To be honest, I think what initially caught his attention was my age. With my stunted start in life taking a toll on my education, I was placed into school a year below where I should be. The fact that I was the only sixteen-year-old girl in our year had been a big seller with the boys, if you catch my drift. Dylan was no different, though he likes to deny it whenever it's mentioned.

Don't get me wrong, though, Dylan's great: sweet, funny, and (above all else) he treats me right.

His parents, on the other hand, aren't so great. They're very much the overbearing type, constantly butting their noses in where they're not wanted – and, when it comes to exams, they're just a little bit psychotic.

"I really don't know how that boy copes," Ellie says, shaking her head sympathetically.

"Me neither," I murmur.

"Have you seen him since last Saturday?" she asks.

"Only if school counts. His parents have him on lockdown until his law exam," I sigh, rolling my eyes.

"When's the exam?"

"Wednesday."

"I can't believe you guys are finishing your first year of A-levels already," she murmurs in disbelief, shaking her head. "It makes me feel old."

"You're only twenty, El," I remind her.

She's only two years older than me – the same age as my sister, Charlotte.

"I feel older," she sighs, the corners of her mouth turning down in a frown. She shakes off her slump pretty quickly, her frown morphing into a grin as she says, "I bet you're looking forward to the summer, though."

"Oh, you have no idea," I agree.

"An entire two months of sun, sex, and socialisation," she lists off with a wink.

"Shh," I hiss, not wanting anyone to overhear her.

She laughs. "Relax, the place is dead."

Glancing around, I'm surprised to find that she's right. Besides the Coleman's, the only customers left are the Hartley's, an elderly couple that often come in for a pot of tea and a cappuccino. From the looks they give the three guys by the window, they don't plan on staying long, either.

Assholes.

The Coleman's, I mean. Not the Hartley's.

"We're closing in ten," Ellie says, glancing at the clock above the kitchen doorway. "You can head home if you want."

I take her up on the offer, calling out a quick goodbye to Paul as I pass by the kitchen on my way to clock out.

"See you tomorrow," Ellie says as I walk back around the counter.

As I make my way outside, I can't help the way my eyes dart to the corner booth by the window. The three brothers still sit there, talking in hushed voices as they lean towards one another across the table, their coffees entirely forgotten and completely untouched.

Then, suddenly, a pair of dark green eyes meet mine. I try not to let my step falter as Lucas watches me, his attention so obviously diverted from his conversation that it makes me sweat a little. I feel my ears growing hotter as I look away, pushing the door open with a panic-induced force that almost sends it flying off its hinges.

What is his problem?

I walk out of the café and I don't look back.

*********