Page 45 of Ripper's Redemption

But tonight isn’t about the club, it’s about my party, about being there for me—even if our entire relationship is just a façade.

“It’s club business,” Ripper snaps, his voice cutting through the haze of birthday cheer like a blade. His eyes are hard, filled with an edge I haven’t seen before. “Don’t ask me, because I can’t fuckin tell you.”

I blink, reeling from the harshness in his tone.

“Excuse me?” I shoot back, my voice rising to match his.

The music thumps around us, but suddenly, it’s just him and me.

Siren and Poison have taken their leave, giving us some much needed space.

“Lose the attitude, Ripper. If anyone should have one, it’s me. You’ve been MIA all night.”

“Dammit, Tara.” He runs a hand through his hair, smearing more blood across his bicep. “You think I wanted to be out there? I don’t get a fuckin’ choice, but I have to prove myself to the club. That’s what you don’t fuckin’ get. Do you think this is a game?”

“You’re right,” I quip, stepping closer, the anger in me twisting into something tighter, sharper. “It’s not a game. But you promised you’d be here for me, that you’d help me sell this relationship.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away, taking a deep breath as if trying to reel in his temper.

The flickering firelight cast shadows across his face, highlighting the tension etched into his features.

“Look,” I soften my tone just a notch, reaching out to touch his uninjured arm. “I know the club comes first. But if we’re going to keep up this charade, you can’t just disappear and not communicate with me.”

“Charade,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Sometimes I forget that’s what this is.”

“Then maybe you need reminding,” I challenge, refusing to let go. “Because right now, you’re treating me like you don’t give a shit about what we’re doing.”

“That's not—” He stops himself, exhaling sharply. “Come on, we need to go talk somewhere private.”

“Lead the way,” I murmur, following closely behind him.

As we move through the crowd, the heaviness of the evening seems to lift slightly.

Tonight hasn’t gone how I imagined it would, but we still had a chance to make it better. And for now, I’ll settle for that.

He pulls me past the bonfire and toward the Monroe family house, where the shadows swallow any trace of light from the party.

The gravel crunches under our boots as we walk further away from the laughter and music.

“Ripper, what’s going on?” I finally ask, my sage green eyes searching his face in the darkness.

He stops abruptly, turning to face me.

His gaze is intense, filled with frustration and something else I can’t quite place. “Tara, I shouldn’t even be here with you right now,” he starts, his voice low but laced with anger. “We’re not actually in a fuckin’ relationship. This is all just to get under your father’s skin, and I think that’s all you fuckin’ care about. You don’t give a shit about me."

A jolt of anger flares up inside me, matching his intensity. “Yeah, you’re right,” I snap back, crossing my arms over my chest. “We’re not in a fucking relationship. We’re just using each other for good sex, right?”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, neither of us say a word.

The tension crackles between us, more electric than the fire we left behind.

I see the conflict in his eyes, the war between duty and desire.

“Is that what you think this is?” he finally asks, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Isn’t it?” I challenged, refusing to back down. “You said it yourself. This is just a game to piss off my dad.”

“Maybe it started that way,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. “But I’m tired of bein’ used as a weapon against your father ‘cause he pissed you off.”

Ripper shakes his head, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to piece together a complicated puzzle. “What did I get myself into?” he grumbles under his breath, the words barely audible over the distant laughter and music from the party.

My heart pounding, a mix of anger and something else—something softer, more vulnerable.

What the hell is going on between the two of us?

Ripper shakes his head, “I can’t fuckin’ do this shit with you. You’re actin’ like you’re actually my girl, but you’re not.”

He walks off before I have a chance to even reply, and a sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.

What the fuck just happened?

---