Page 65 of The Scout

The world felt different now. Everything did.

I wasn’t the same woman who had walked through the gates of Dominion Hall the night of that party, wide-eyed and naïve, still believing that my world was safe, that the darkness existed only on the edges, circling but never touching me.

I knew better now.

I felt it in my bones, in the lingering ache of Ryker’s touch, in the way my body still thrummed with energy from him. The sex had changed me—he had changed me. I wasn’t ashamed of it. I revered it. The way he wanted me, the way I could make him want me.

He might have been the one in control, the one who claimed me, but I had power, too. Power over him.

Over the way his jaw tightened when I stretched, when I let the hem of my skirt ride up just a little too high, when I parted my lips and watched his gaze drop before he caught himself. He didn’t want to want me, but he did.

I liked knowing that. I liked knowing I could unravel him the way he unraveled me.

But there were more important things than playing games with Ryker’s self-control. Will was still missing, and Ryker had made it clear—I needed to go through everything. Every message, every voicemail, every meaningless text my brother had sent me in the last few months. I needed to find something, anything that might tell us where he was, what had happened.

I would. Because I wasn’t just waiting to be saved. I wasn’t sitting on the sidelines, hoping for someone else to fix this. I still needed help, needed protection. I could admit that. But I wasn’t going to be powerless.

Marcus drove me to my apartment while Ryker stayed behind, and I spent the ride staring out the window, my mind racing. I hadn’t been home much lately. It felt like another life, like another version of myself had lived there—one who had never been in a wreck, who had never locked eyes with a black viper, who had never spread her legs for a man like Ryker Dane and loved it.

That girl was gone.

The Isabel who walked up the stairs to her apartment now was different. Stronger. Sharper.

Marcus followed me inside, shutting and locking the door behind him like it was second nature. I barely noticed. My focus was on the hallway, on the second bedroom. Will had lived there before Pia moved in. His presence still lingered, tucked into the corners of the space, in the old furniture we had never replaced, in the things Pia had shoved into the back of the closet instead of throwing away.

Before I could move toward it, Pia appeared,stepping into the living room, her dark eyes widening when she saw me.

“Oh my God, Izzy,” she breathed. “I was worried.”

She looked like she wanted to rush forward, to throw her arms around me, but she hesitated, her gaze flicking to Marcus, assessing him.

“I wanted to text you, but I figured you needed space.”

“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. “It’s been … a lot.”

Pia studied me for a moment, then tipped her head. “Are you off today?”

I hesitated, my fingers brushing against the counter. “I, uh … didn’t go in.” I let out a breath, shaking my head. “Sasha covered for me, told them it was a family emergency, but I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say now.”

Pia frowned. “Wait. Are you … even planning on going back?”

I exhaled sharply. “I don’t know.” The thought of standing behind the front desk at The Palmetto Rose, smiling at guests, handing out keycards like my life hadn’t just imploded—it felt impossible. It felt ridiculous.

I wasn’t the same person anymore. I had no idea how I was supposed to pretend otherwise.

Pia’s eyes darted between Marcus and me again, and this time, she arched a brow.

“And who is this?”

Marcus smirked, stepping forward with easy confidence. “Marcus Dane. Ryker’s brother. And usually, second-in-command.”

Pia tilted her head, crossing her tanned arms. “Second-in-command? What are you, the mafia?”

“Something like that,” he said, his grin widening.

Pia looked at me again, her expression full of questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

“Long story,” I muttered.

---