Page 72 of Turmoil's Target

Even thinking his name sends a fresh wave of pain radiating through my chest.

I grip the bathroom counter, fingernails digging into the cold marble.

How could I have been so blind?

I was so foolish to believe his sweet words and gentle caresses were real.

Only to find out it was all an act.

A ploy by the Reapers Rejects MC to get close to me, to uncover my mother’s secrets and motives.

A bitter laugh escapes my throat.

Of course the one man who made me feel alive, feel cherished, was just using me.

What a fucking sick cosmic joke.

I should have known better than to let my guard down, to trust anyone.

Hot anger swells inside me, momentarily eclipsing the devastation.

I welcomed Abe—no, that’s probably not even his real name—into my life, my home, my bed.

I gave him access to me while he smiled and schemed behind my back.

All the while reporting back to his club.

I straighten up, meeting my stormy gaze in the mirror.

Well, no more.

Seraphina Bernard is no one’s fool, and certainly not a pawn to be manipulated.

I’ll bury this hurt and betrayal deep down, lock it away.

From now on, I trust no one.

I will rely on no one but myself.

This city, those bikers, will rue the day they tried to break me.

I’m coming for the Reapers Rejects, and nothing, not even a shattered heart, will get in my way.

With renewed determination steeling my spine, I turn away from the mirror and stride out of the bathroom, heels clicking against the tile like a war drum.

Let the real games begin.

The shrill ring of my cell phone slices through my thoughts.

Snatching it up, I glance at the screen.

Grandfather.

I hesitate, finger hovering over the answer button.

I’m really not in the mood for company or conversation right now.

But before I can decide, I find myself accepting the call, his cheerful voice flooding the line. “Seraphina, my dear! I was hoping you might come ‘round for a visit today.”

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