Page 152 of Ruthless Reign

“Yeah,” I said. “I could eat.”

THREE WEEKS LATER

The canyons looked ominous in the spotlights and shadows, at odds with all the gathered Uni students drinking and hollering in the wide-open expanse of packed red dirt. Without a care in the world.

Coming to race night with a proper invite wasn’t half as fun as showing up uninvited, but I couldn’t complain.

Not with mo mhuirnín beside me and Kaleb trying to play off the fact that he was sweating bullets waiting for the race to start.

He was the one who wanted the rematch, but now he was looking at my Impala like it was the fucking Batmobile and his white Nissan like it better not fucking disappoint him.

It was entertaining, to say the least. And after the last few weeks, it all felt so trivially normal.

Even Becca was smiling again. Something I hadn’t seen since her best friend returned to Thorn Valley a few days after the bloodbath at Kilborn.

She was eating again, too. Going to classes.

Though she never took her job back at Death Before Decaf, wanting to give her friend Kate space until she was ready to see her—if she ever would be.

Hardin and Kaleb and the rest of the students at Kilborn had the last three weeks off. The official story was that a vehicle collided with the gymnasium wall and thanks to a generous donation from Damien St. Vincent—courtesy of my da’s offshore account that passed to me on his death—the university was getting a brand new gym.

…and a large part of the school was receiving a substantial facelift thanks to the broken windows and bullet-riddled walls.

Since many of the Sons were in the States illegally, with no legal record, it was easy for Damien to make them disappear. And easy to pay off the coroner to report my da’s death as ‘accidental’ to avoid unwanted scrutiny.

Now he was buried out here. Not far from the southern tip of the road we’d race on today. Apparently, he wasn’t buried very far from another grave Sloane St. Vincent and Hardin dug when he was young. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who it was. Two shite fathers now took up space in the canyon under the stars.

The bastards could keep each other’s bones company.

It still felt surreal. I never imagined my da could die. I’d thought of him as one step removed from being immortal my entire life. And now that he was gone…

There was no sadness. Not at all. It was more…an emptiness. One that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to fill. But maybe that void was one that should stay empty.

There’s a sense of freedom, too. One that I didn’t imagine I would ever feel.

“Is it true you’re going to stay?” Becca asked, peering over the rim of her rye and ginger ale as she sipped it.

I came back to myself, realizing I recognized the song that was playing over the loudspeakers as one Becca liked a lot, aptly named Switchblade Smile.

“Aodhán?”

What had she asked? Right. Was I staying?

Truth was I had nowhere else to go. No other family that knew me. No friends back home. And funny enough, I liked my film studies class. I liked grabbing coffee in the morning on campus with Becca and then meeting her in the afternoon for lunch between classes.

It felt foreign. Anything normal always did, but I didn’t realize how much I craved it. After being taught to disdain it all my life, I didn’t know this kind of life was something I could grow to want for myself.

Of course there was still gang business to be handled. Whispers from Hardin and Kaleb and some of the other Saints were that Damien planned to bring me on officially, soon. I wasn’t marked with gang ink like the other Sons. My father always wanted me to be a ghost. Unclaimed. His double agent.

Didn’t stop me from inking myself with fifty other things, but I was ready to be claimed. Wanted it. Wanted to belong somewhere. With someone.

“Yeah,” I said after a long sigh. “I’m staying—as long as that’s all right with you, love.”

A crooked smile pulled her lips, and her warm eyes crinkled at the edges like she thought I was an adorable idiot. “No, actually, I want you to leave. Wasn’t it obvious?”

I chuckled. “Smart ass.”

“Of course I want you to stay. I wish you would come stay with us at the house, though. We can make room.”

---