Page 51 of Prince of Pain

“It’s none of your business,” I bit out, and he scowled as he reached for me.

“Like fuck, Tempest. What the fuck did you do?”

“Don’t touch me!”

I winced as he grabbed me firmly and peeled the bandage back, stilling when he saw the stitches. I tried to pull away but he held firm, silently assessing it before releasing a breath.

“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me. Why did you do it?”

It was hard to explain when I didn’t really understand either.

I shoved at him, getting frustrated when he refused to let go. “You don’t give a shit! Don’t pretend to care just because we have company!”

I struggled against his grip, and he only let go when I managed to get a hand free to slap him. He looked stunned and hurt, staring at me as Mason pulled me back against his chest.

“Hey, calm down.” I slapped him too, fighting his hold on me, but he acted like nothing happened as my nails scratched his neck, turning me more to hold me tightly against his chest. “Baby, stop. You’re going to tear your stitches. Go get changed, I’ll wait.”

My anger morphed into frustration, which then turned to confusion. “We’re still going for breakfast?”

“Why wouldn’t we? Go on, wear that leather skirt I like,” he answered, kissing the top of my head. I hesitated before doing as I was told, returning to find Mason and Dad talking in hushed voices. Suspicion moved through me, and paranoia crept in as they shut up when they noticed me.

“Damn, babe. How’d you get even hotter?” Mason grinned, some of the paranoia slipping at his unexpected compliment.

“No need to smooth talk me, I already agreed to breakfast,” I smiled, jiggling my keys. The blood on his neck from my nails had been cleaned, and I glanced at Dad, who was eyeing me silently.

He looked so done with me, he was probably just waiting for me to hurry up and off myself.

“I want you home tonight. We need to talk,” he finally said gently, making me scoff.

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Yes, we do. Be home for dinner,” he said calmly before turning and leaving the house, his car starting a moment later.

Ryder

I had to pull over on the way home, needing to give myself a minute. The night’s events were finally getting to me, and I had to do my stupid breathing exercises to silence the idea of running my damn car off the road out of pure frustration.

My phone rang, and I answered on the hands-free. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Slash asked, reminding me to take another deep breath.

“Yeah, why?”

“Your mother’s tracking you and you stopped. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t crash,” he answered.

“I just pulled over to lose some of my anger. She just?—”

“She’s getting to you, which means you need to cut her off. Let the Ridgegate kid deal with her,” he ordered. “Do you want one of us to come to you?”

I automatically went to say no, but I found myself pausing. “That would be good. Thanks.”

“Marco’s on his way. Skeet’s dropping him off,” he promised. “Ry? You can’t fix her without breaking yourself. You’ve tried, but it’s up to her to get help on her own. I’m proud of you for trying, but it’s time you put yourself first. Need me to stay on the phone until Mark gets there?”

“No, I’m not a danger to myself. I just didn’t want to drive when I was feeling like that. Thanks, Dad.”

“Any time. If you need me, just call. I’ll always answer,” he said seriously before we said goodbye and hung up, and I kept working through some of the tricks that therapy had taught me until Skeeter’s McLaren pulled up beside me, not giving a shit about blocking the road to traffic as he wound his window down.

“You good?” he asked as Marco climbed out of the passenger seat and started walking around to jump in beside me.

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