Page 72 of Riot

Yesterday, after she got back from seeing her friends, Ivy had been quiet, withdrawn, even behind the smiles she painted on.

I don’t know what the fuck happened, but it made me want to scorch the fucking ground to find out.

If someone hurt her, upset her…

Riley blowing on his cold fingers brings me back to the current situation. He stands close to my side, his back to the side of the van, watching, silent.

I refocus my attention as King and Blade walk over to the low wall at the edge of the multi-storey parking garage.

I don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about—their voices don’t carry beyond muffled sounds that seem to reverberate along the low ceilings—or what they’re looking at, but I keep my stance casual, even as my skin prickles.

I don’t fucking trust Blade, but King? He’s only been in the club for a short time, maybe four years, most of which was spentin the middle of a war. He’s so hard to read that it’s impossible to know where his loyalty lies.

I curl my fingers into my palms, my teeth grinding over each other. I hate this uncertainty, the inability to trust the brothers around me and have faith in my club. And I hate being here without someone I trust to watch my back.

In the past, I didn’t care what happened to me, but now, I have something to live for, someone to go home to.

I want to go home every fucking night to my girls.

First, you have to make them yours.

Reaching under my kutte, I palm my knife, reassured by the feel of it. I hope like fuck I won’t have to use it, but I’m ready. I ain’t dying in this concrete graveyard.

“They’re late,” Riley mutters, speaking for the first time since we arrived.

“They’ll come.”

“Fuckin’ disrespectful cunts.”

The thread of irritation in Riley’s tone ain’t a surprise. In the past, before the war with Richardson’s Pioneers, this shit would never have happened. No one would have dared pull a stunt like this.

It’s another nail in the coffin, another hint at how far our club has fallen in this city.

Crank’s inability to be a harsh President is allowing these shittier, smaller gangs to think they can come at us, and that’s a dangerous position to be in.

Riley pushes his hair out of his eyes. “Your kid doin’ okay now?”

I don’t know why he’s suddenly become chatty, but his words send an internal jolt through me. I almost choke on my tongue.

Riley assuming Seren’s mine stirs something deep in my gut, a longing I didn’t know was buried there. I’ve never wanted the picket fence life, the kids and the old lady at home.

Getting someone pregnant would be a fucking disaster, and yet…

Images of Ivy with a swollen belly fill my mind, my free hand splayed over our baby. My cock twitches in my jeans.

Fuck, I want that so badly, I can taste it.

I shake myself like a damn wet dog.Get it together, prick.

“She’s not my kid.”My words are harsher than I intend.

“Sorry. I just thought…” He trails off.

“It’s fine. Kids ain’t my thing.”Liar.I love Seren like she’s my own.

“You know blood doesn’t make family, right?”

I can feel his gaze on me, but I keep mine locked on King and Blade. “You’re fuckin’ chatty tonight.”

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