Page 22 of Rook
Ledger appeared last, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Stone’s voice cut through the silence. “Talk.”
“No.” Rook didn’t look up.
Stone didn’t raise his voice. “Now.”
Rook slammed the cabinet again—not with his fist this time, but with the flat of his palm. The metal rattled, tools inside clattering. The sound echoed through the garage… and beyond it.
Footsteps pounded outside.
The side door banged open.
Grim filled the doorway first, eyes sharp. Havoc was right behind him, hair wild, expression caught somewhere between concern andoh, this is gonna be fun.
Grim took one look at Rook’s face and let out a low whistle. “Well, shit.”
Havoc leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Knew that sound wasn’t a wrench dropping.”
Rook didn’t look at them. Didn’t want to. His pulse was a hammer in his throat, his breath ragged. “She doesn’t get to do this.”
Ledger’s tone was calm, clinical. “You’re already reacting as if she does.”
Rook spun, glare sharp enough to cut. “Shut it.”
Ledger didn’t flinch. He never did.
Stone stepped closer. “What happened?”
Rook dragged a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged animal. His boots scuffed against the concrete, each step too loud in the tight space. “She heard the prospects call me Rook.”
Ledger exhaled softly. “Ah. That explainsthe escalation.”
Fish’s thumb tapped once against the workbench. A quiet, steady sound that somehow cut deeper than shouting.
Stone’s gaze sharpened. “And?”
“And she acted like she had a right to be pissed about it.”
Stone waited.
Rook’s voice dropped, rough and raw. “She left, Stone. She left and didn’t look back. And now she wants answers? Now she wants explanations? Now she wants to know who I am?”
Stone didn’t blink. “Do you?”
Rook froze.
The question hit harder than the cabinet.
Did he know who he was anymore?
The boy he’d been with Avery? The soldier he’d become after she left? The VP of the Bloodline Saints? Rook?
He didn’t know.
He didn’t know anything except that seeing her again felt like ripping open a wound he’d stitched shut with barbed wire.
Heturned away, gripping the edge of a workbench until his knuckles whitened. His breath shook. His shoulders trembled. He hated that they could see it.
