Page 117 of Falling in Reverse

She doesn’t say a word, which pisses me off, because she won’t shut the hell up when I’m around, and I gain his attention for the briefest of seconds.

I nod and it’s all I have to do.

She wants to keep secrets?

I’m the fuckin’ Crypt Keeper and I say there are none when it has to do with me and why the hell a beautiful brunette decided to show the hell up out of nowhere when she wants absolutely nothing to do with Emilio.

Or does she?

Guess we’re about to find out.

THIRTY-ONE

bay

The dinner is too fancy as well as equally disturbing, and I feel as though Ramsey is picking out his next mate with how openly he’s observing me.

Every move and word I make is promptly dissected.

Dude’s a fucking weirdo.

I haven’t forgotten that night we stole the Forsaken Crew’s guns and how Ramsey’s lack of empathy and abundance of violence drew out his personality.

And why Daddy Wildes wants me to get along with these two fuckers…yeah, he has some serious issues and I’m running out of time. Sooner rather than later, I’m going to have to talk to Levi. And I’m already fully aware of how this is all going to go down.

However, I’m in a very unique situation here.

If Emilio Wildes can be taken down, South Shore is free of its Northern enemy. No longer will we be running through vulnerable territory and having Emilio execute my neighbors and friends.

However, I can’t help but feel like the sacrificial lamb here, but I’d rather it be me than any of my family. I just have to keep reminding myself of that and shove my hatred for this situation in a deep and dark place until I’m ready to unwrap it. And that includes keeping Dad out of all of this.

“Did you? How much power do you really hold?”

I glimpse over to Torin, the look of pure irritation that I’m here painted all over his face.

I heard his warnings. I also know that I shot his ass last week, too.

I’m almost willing to bet that he’d love to return that favor, but Daddy Wildes is present and he’s still working on gaining my good graces.

Yet, I can’t turn down the opportunity to drive my point with Pretty Boy.

“More than you think.” I can’t help but drag my tongue against his earlobe and feeling his whole body twitch against my side.

He’s affected by me.

And, fuck me, same.

Torin reaches for his drink, and I straighten myself back into my chair just for my focus to fall right onto Reeve.

Because he's right in front of me on the other side of the table, standing next to Ramsey and looking hella impressed that I’m here.

Fuck. Me. Sideways.

In a white long-sleeve shirt that’s rolled up at his forearms, one soaked in ink, Reeve’s lips are quirked in a cheeky smirk and a black rosary hangs around his neck, contradicting his attitude and how sinfully his eyes are caressing my body.

He’s religious?

Who the fuck cares?

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