Page 66 of Turmoil's Target

Fuck. How did everything go so wrong, so fast?

My mind races as I speed down the curving desert road, replaying every moment with her, trying to figure out where I slipped up.

I was so careful.

We were so careful.

And yet somehow, she knows.

She figured out Jolt and I are part of the Reapers Rejects MC.

I yell, pounding the wheel again. “Goddammit!”

Pain lances through my knuckles but I barely feel it over the searing ache in my chest.

I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly.

I’m disappointed in myself for not being more cautious, more discreet.

But even worse—I’m devastated that I’m losing Seraphina.

That phenomenal, gorgeous, brilliant woman is slipping through my fingers and it’s all my own damn fault.

I grip the wheel tighter, jaw clenched as I take a sharp turn.

The worst part is knowing I’ll never experience her quick wit and sultry smile again.

Never feel her velvet skin under my rough hands or taste her sweet lips.

She’s cut me off, leaving my life as quickly as she entered it.

And it’s going to be fucking agony.

I press harder on the gas, engine roaring, as if I can outrun the pain and regret churning inside me.

I royally screwed up the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.

And now I have to live with the soul-crushing consequences.

Alone.

Fuck!

The tires squeal as I whip into the parking spot outside the mine and Jolt’s condo.

I sit there for a long moment, engine idling, trying to gather the fractured pieces of my composure.

Finally, I kill the ignition and drag myself out of the car.

My feet feel like lead weights as I trudge up the stairs and let myself into the unit.

Jolt’s sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels on the flatscreen.

He takes one look at my face and sits up straight, brow furrowing. “Jesus, you look like your dog just died. The fuck happened?”

I sink onto the armchair and drop my head into my hands, digging my fingers into my hair.

The words feel like broken glass in my throat.

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