Page 181 of Chasing Ruin
I shake my head again, clutching my chest. “So Sandy starts fucking around on him. First with prospects. Then randoms from bars.” I gesture vaguely. “Until finally—Thomas, her childhood crush—gives her some attention.”
A broken, rasping chuckle comes from Hellfire. “She was f-fucking easy… your First Lady—”
“Wrong audience, fucker.” Dad shrugs easily. “No one here gives a shit aboutSandy.”
Hellfire snarls, jerking uselessly against the chains.
I click my tongue, annoyed. “Don’t interrupt, Tommy. I’ll lose my flow.”
I take a breath, centering myself again. “Anyway,” I drawl. “Cliff notes… Sandy gets knocked up. Savage finds out—kicks her out. Story gets buried over the years, and no one knows she carried another man’s kid. Well, except for Savage—no one knew.”
I stop in front of Hellfire, crouching down slowly. “Not until she turned fourteen.” I tap my temple lightly, tilting my head as I study him. “Now here’s where I get stuck. When didyoufind out Charlotte was yours?”
Hellfire spits blood to the side. It dribbles down his chin, mixing with sweat and grime. His chest heaves, but he says nothing.
I sigh like he’s inconveniencing me. “No? You won’t tell?” I push to my feet again, pacing slowly in front of them. “Alright. Let’s fill in the blanks ourselves, yeah?”
My gaze flicks to Scar. He’s barely upright, head lolling, eyes glassy—but there’s still that ugly flicker of awareness in there.
“You sent Glory to our club eight years ago. We found records of her knowing about Charlotte being yours since… almost the beginning.” I crouch in front of Hellfire again, lowering my voice. “Did she not tell you?”
His lips twitch. A weak, broken sound leaves him. “That… b-bitch hid it.”
I hum, nodding slowly. “Otherwise you would’ve known for years.”
His silence confirms enough.
“Right,” I murmur. “So, years pass. Savage makes promises he shouldn’t have.” I jerk my chin toward Scar. “Like this one being the prez. At least until… Wolf takes over.”
Saying his name feels like dragging glass through my throat, but I don’t let it show. I don’t let anything show except the smile.
“So when that didn’t happen…” I tilt my head, studying Scar now. “You started stirring shit, didn’t you?”
Scar lets out a broken chuckle that dissolves into a cough. Blood bubbles at the corner of his mouth. “Took you… long enough…” he rasps.
“Yeah?” I grin wider. “Walk me through it.”
His eyes drag to Ryder—lazy, deliberate. Then to Healer. “Well, f-for one, I m-made sure… your golden boys… stopped t-trusting each other. It was easy as fuck.”
Ryder stiffens behind me. I don’t turn, but I feel the shift in the room. The way his boots scrape as he stands.
“What did you do?” Ryder demands, voice low and lethal.
Healer frowns, looking between them.
Scar’s grin stretches, grotesque. “Guess… you should a-ask Isabelle… huh?”
Ryder goes completely still.
I glance back just in time to see the exact second it clicks.
“She didn’t—” he starts, voice sharp.
“No,” Scar cuts in, voice a wet rasp. “She didn’t.” His eyes gleam with sick satisfaction. “Bel’s only ever b-been with one brother…” He coughs, shuddering. “And that’s you, Ryder.”
Silence.
Then Scar breaks it as he starts laughing—if you can call that broken wheezelaughter.
