Page 46 of Ruthless Reign

I was so relieved he was sleeping tonight. They’d need to be at their best for tonight. Ready. Alert.

The days passed so quickly. Too quickly. As if some cosmic force was herding us to the edge of a cliff.

One minute I was sipping rye and Coke on the sofa with Toby and Kate and the next I was waking up at three in the morning on the day I’d been dreading since Kaleb and Hardin pulled me out of the Saint safehouse and told me they’d lost.

It was like everything that had happened in the last few days had happened in a dream. Like I was there, but also…wasn’t.

Stasis mode, Kaleb had called it. When nothing else seems to matter because there’s something more important you’re waiting for.

I know I went to class and I painted—not daring to step one toe into the supply closet—and I know we went to the gun range to practice, forced down some form of sustenance, and then there was always inevitably something that needed doing.

Hardin and Kaleb were getting a pass for most things gang related and I wasn’t stupid enough to wonder why. It was clearly my fault. My father might be willing to put his sons at risk, but he seemed a lot less keen to have me involved. Which meant either they were tasked with doing something so menial that I wondered if it was even necessary at all, or one of them was left with me while Damien St Vincent called the other one to a task.

When that happened I had to hold my breath until he returned, hating that it felt like missing a limb whenever one of them left.

I’d have been lying if I said there wasn’t a secret part of me that hoped when we drove down to Thorn Valley today that all of Diesel’s men would just be saddled up and ready to go. Surely together, both chapters of the Saints could take out the Sons?

And then there was the guilt. Because I didn’t want Ava Jade or the Crows in any danger, either. They’d had more than their fair share and they deserved a fucking break.

I sighed, exiting TikTok just as a message came in.

Dad

My contacts say those streets aren’t safe right now. Come home. They’re still holding your place at CalTech. I know you’re more stubborn than your mother ever was but you can still change your mind. Let’s just talk about it, ok? I’ll send the driver, just give me your address.

My knuckles turned white where they clenched the phone. I could have screamed. I didn’t know what part of I’m staying was so hard to understand, but clearly he was having trouble with the mental Olympics of thinking I could actually survive without him.

And as freaking if he didn’t already have my address. Gregory Hart didn’t get where he was in life by not being in the know. But he could rock up to my shared flat whenever he wanted. He wouldn’t find me there and Toby would tell him exactly where he could go. I’d told them all about my Dad and how he thought I wouldn’t survive a week without his money. Let’s just say they weren’t exactly his biggest fans.

I fucking dared him to try to come get me. As long as I didn’t have to see his face, I’d be fine. I didn’t trust myself not to blow up at him. He knew. He knew for my whole damn life that I was a St. Vincent and said nothing.

Mom would’ve told me. Maybe not when I was a kid, but I knew she would’ve when I got older.

Kaleb twitched against my back, and I clicked off my phone screen, trying not to move so I wouldn’t wake him.

He muttered something under his breath in his sleep, and I carefully inched back, turning around to face him. There was only a little moonlight coming in through the dark curtains, but it was enough to see the hard knot between his brows. The sweat on his forehead.

His jaw flexed, teeth grinding as a broken sound vibrated in his chest, making my own squeeze.

“Kaleb?” I whispered.

I didn’t want to wake him, but as he made the sound again, my blood turned to ice.

I pushed sweaty hair from his forehead, trying to wake him from the nightmare gently, a ball in my throat. “Hey, wake up, it’s me.”

His body heaved on the bed, and he woke all at once, a trembling curse on his lips, eyes wide and unfocused as he shot up, his hands fisting in the sheets.

“It was just a dream,” I said and gasped as he whirled on me, a fist around my throat as he shoved me down onto my back, not seeing me. Not seeing anything but whatever still haunted him as he was stuck some place between waking and sleeping.

“Kal…eb,” I croaked, clawing at his fingers.

“Fuck,” he released me, stepping off the bed with horror on his face. “Fuck, Becca, I?—”

I rubbed my throat. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

He went for his nightstand, tearing it open to pull out the half empty bottle of whiskey there. He twisted the cap off and brought it to his lips, but stopped, his grip on the bottle tightening, shaking, as he pulled it back.

Kaleb set the bottle down on top of his nightstand and sat heavily on the bed, pushing his face into his hands.

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