Page 30 of Riot

“May, can I get you anything?” I’ve barely finished the question when she slides her mug onto the table, leaps from the chair, and darts out the room.

“Shit,” Riot mutters as Mace’s voice echoes through the apartment.

I swear, my brother-in-law has a radar that can detect Maylie puking from a mile away.

“She’ll be okay,” I tell him.

It’s sweet how worried he looks. Riot cares about all of us.

Even me.Even if I don’t deserve it.

“Are you gonna sit down or stand there all day?”

I drop my hands to my hips. “I’m debating how mad I am at you.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I keep talking. “An illegal fight? Really?”

There’s not a flicker of remorse in his expression. “It ain’t as bad as it sounds.”

“Well, it sounds awful.” My anger fizzles out at the sight of the bruises, and my chin wobbles as my emotions threaten to strangle me. I can’t lose him, and I can’t bear to see him so hurt. “They beat you to hell, Riot.”

He holds out a hand towards me, but I don’t take it, too scared to even touch him.

He huffs. “Come here.”

“Riot—”

“Now, Ivy.”

The barked command works, and I drop down next to him. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll start crying.

“It’s sweet you’re worried about me,” he says, “but I’m fine. Believe it or not, I won all three fights.” That cocky tone would usually work on me, but not today. Not when my stomach is in knots.

“Why?” I need to know what drove him to this. Why he has this constant need for self-destruction. “Why did you fight?”

“Vee—”

“No, don’t do that. Don’t brush me off like I’m overreacting. I want an answer, Riot. Why did you go there and fight? Give me the truth.”

He cups the side of my face, and I freeze. It’s a tentative, intimate gesture, and not one I expected from him.

Don’t lean into it.

“You don’t need to worry about me, darlin’. I’m fine. The bruises will fade and heal, and I’ll be back to normal in a few days.”

Back to normal? Oh, fuck that and fuck him.

“I know how bruises fade, Riot.” He flinches when I throw that truth like an axe. “What I don’t know is why you’re seeking this kind of destruction.”

I know what it is to hate yourself enough to crave the pain. I don’t know if that’s what he’s doing, but whatever the reason for all of it—the fighting and the sleeping around—it’s damaging behaviour.

“Just let it go.”

I should, but I’m so unsettled seeing him like this that I forge on despite his plea.

“If I turned up looking like I went ten rounds with a hammer, would you let it go?”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes, even the swollen one. “If anyone ever puts a mark on you, I’ll fuckin’ kill ’em.”

The quiet anger in that tone sends a shiver rolling up my spine. I’m not deluded. I know he and Mace do bad things for the club, but he’s not joking when he says that.

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