Page 67 of Riot’s Revenge

My chest physically hurt, and I fought to swallow the lump in my throat.

Brandi picked at the sleeve of her hoodie before speaking again. “I thought he’d come back to me eventually,” she admitted with a faint laugh that sounded sadder than amused. “He always used to, but not since . . .”

I closed my eyes briefly. That hurt almost worse than the betrayal itself, because it meant I’d mattered to him. Really mattered and, somehow, he’d still destroyed us anyway.

“He’s miserable,” Brandi said finally.

A quiet laugh escaped me then, brittle and exhausted. “So am I.”

For a moment neither of us spoke.

Then Brandi slid carefully off the examination bed and picked up her bag. At the door she paused awkwardly before looking back at me. “For what it’s worth,” she said quietly, “I don’t think anybody’s ever mattered to Riot the way you do.”

The door clicked shut behind her before I could answer, and the second I was alone again, I pressed both hands hard against my burning eyes and finally let myself cry.

28

RIOT

Church smelled like stale whiskey, gun oil and cigarette smoke.

Nobody had fully settled since the Kings jumped Reaper. The tension still sat heavy around the clubhouse, simmering beneath every conversation and dirty look. Even the usual noise felt sharper lately.

Spider spread fresh photos across the scarred church table while Shadow watched in silence from the head of the room, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

“This one’s real,” Spider said. “Prospect watched traffic all night. Kings are definitely inside.”

Good, because I needed somewhere to put the anger eating holes in me.

Ghost nudged my boot beneath the table. “You look fuckin’ miserable.”

“Shut up.”

“See? Miserable.”

Reaper snorted softly beside him before wincing and shifting against the chair, still sore from the crowbar to his ribs. The bruising along his jaw had begun to turn yellow, but he still moved carefully whenever he thought nobody was looking.

Shadow noticed it too, the cold expression on his face darkened another shade.

“My son nearly got put in the ground,” he said suddenly, voice low enough to quiet the room instantly. Shadow’s eyes landed on me. “And, lately, my VP’s sittin’ here lookin’ like he ain’t heard a fuckin’ word.”

The attention in the room shifted hard toward me.

I leaned back slightly in my chair. “I’m listening.”

“Bullshit.”

The word cracked across the room. Spider looked down at the table, and Ghost stopped smirking. Even Reaper went still beside him.

Shadow leaned forward slowly, whiskey glass clinking softly against the wood. “The club comes first. Always. Especially now.” His stare sharpened. “You got your head somewhere else lately and I’m gettin’ tired of it.”

I knew what he meant.

Maria.

Five weeks and she still sat under my skin like a splinter I couldn’t dig out.

It forced me to admit something I should’ve figured out a long time ago. I’d spent years convincing myself there were two separate worlds. Women you fucked, and women you cared about. Club girls, easy nights, no strings attached. Then Maria was waiting at home with coffee mugs in the sink and textbooks spread across my couch.