Page 105 of What Lies Within

“Period, remember?”

“Don’t care, remember?” I grin, receiving a playful slap to my arm for my troubles.

"Not tonight." Tyke kneels on the bed at Rae's head then tucks his hands beneath her arms to slide her up the mattress and away from me. "Tonight, we fuckin' rest, you goddamn horn dogs. We'll need the energy to face the shit that'll go down come morning."

My thickening erection softens with a healthy dose of reality.

Shit will head south come sun-up, and it won’t fucking stop ‘til it hits the bottom-most level of hell.

The Fallen Aces took out a major drug lord in their neck of the woods last year, and they're still digging their way to the surface. You don't remove a man with that much power and influence and expect everyone to go about their business without making a fuss.

“You’re no fun,” I grumble as I crawl up the bed to settle at Rae’s side.

She curls into Tyke—now dressed in only his boxers—and closes her eyes, palm splayed over his heart.

They look so perfect against each other. So… complete.

Her palm finds my leg, and she urges me closer. “Stop it.”

Her sleepy words snap me from my spiraling thoughts, and I tuck in behind her, big spoon to the little one carving out my heart. Nose nuzzled behind her ear, I kiss the soft skin and whisper, "Life got meaning again the day you showed up, baby girl."

The hitch in her breath is all the answer I need.

My brother holds my gaze over her shoulder. Tyke averts his eyes for a brief second before tightening his jaw and giving a little nod.

He fucking understands. I know he does.

Because I saw the change in him, too.

41

RAE

The bed’s empty when I wake.

I splay my palms on the base sheet; arms stretched out on either side of me. It's warmer on Digger's side than Tyke's, but barely. Both are nearly cold to the touch. I blink at the ceiling a few times, waiting for the groggy remnants of a deep sleep to leave before I decide what to do next.

Before anything else, I need the bathroom, at least.

Tyke’s cut is gone from where I left it, a vacant space on the dummy when I roll to my side and prepare to slide from under the covers. Interestingly, though, Digger’s still sits draped over the back of the armchair where Tyke set it last night before we all crawled into bed. Bare feet to the chilly floor, I rise and stretch both arms over my head to evaluate how my body feels.

My hips ache, a dull throb taking root in my lower back that's echoed in my pelvis. My legs feel as though I'd climbed a hundred flights of stairs while I slept, fatigue heavy in my limbs.Nothing unusual, then.By the lick of sunshine creeping from the edges of the curtains, it must be well after breakfast, but my phone’s upstairs in my room, so I have no way of telling.

Surely, if whatever happens today involves me, Digger or Tyke would have woken me. I pause with that feeling, the realization that this is how it’ll be from here on out—I’ll know what I need to, and for the rest of the time, I’ll keep myself occupied while they take care of club business.

I feel like an underground version of theReal Wives of Beverly Hills, being spoken for and taken care of.

Bored.

Is that all I have to look forward to? Petty gossip and game of who has the best what?

"Whatever." I turn for the bathroom, sliding the door open.

I'm not prepared for what I find on the other side.

Digger. Knelt on the cold tile floor, arms stretched above his head in child’s pose.

“Mornin’.” His rumbled greeting comes muffled by the bathmat rumpled between his chin and knees.

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