Page 57 of Riot

Not staring…

Fuckin’glaring.

A cold hand wraps around my throat, but my mouth curves into a smile, chilling, challenging beneath the charm.

Bring it on, cunt.

I’m in the mood to throw punches, even though my last set of bruises still ain’t completely faded.

My fingers itch to put a bullet into his fucking traitorous head, but I force myself to turn back.

I hate that this war has to happen. Even if Crank is a pathetic piece of shit who has taken a dump on everything we stand for, what we’re doing feels wrong.

And he ain’t the only one with stains against his name. I’m ashamed of so many things I did while we were at war with the Pioneers. Shit I did because my President ordered it, even though it went against my personal code.

Loyalty to the patch can be blind, and we’d all stepped over lines we didn’t feel good about.

If we survive dethroning Crank, I ain’t sure any of us deserve to keep our colours. It’s gonna take years to rebuild what was broken, if it even can be.

I have to believe things will get better because everything I’ve done, everything I’ve sacrificed and lost, has to mean something.

Nicky steeples his fingers together on the bar top, his voice low when he speaks. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” I say immediately.

“There’s a run tonight, and I want you there to be my eyes and ears on the ground.”

That ain’t an unusual request, but the way his shoulders stiffen tells me there’s more to this. “You expectin’ trouble?”

“I don’t know. There’s just somethin’ off about this whole deal.” He says the words so quietly, I barely hear them. “Keep your wits about you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

I’m grateful to have something to busy myself with. Busy means less time to think, to stew.

“Just a heads up… Blade’ll be there.”

Fucking Blade.I don’t trust that prick even a fraction. There’s something about him that sets my instincts off like a firework display. His actions, his behaviour, all of it is just wrong.

“I can handle him, too,” I say.

Nicky interlaces his fingers on the top of the bar. “Crank’s leanin’ heavily on him lately. I don’t know what their dynamic is, but it ain’t a good thing. So, I’m serious when I say watch your back.”

Nicky stands, squeezing my shoulder, and walks away, leaving me sitting alone again.

Fuck, I hate this shit. There’s no good outcome of this civil war. Brother against brother has the potential to spread rot through the entire club.

A message pings on my phone, and after muttering a “fuck” under my breath at what just transpired, I pull it out of my pocket.

It’s from Ivy.

My fingers hover over the screen, dread curling in my stomach. Is she hurt? Is Seren okay?

I open the message, and my muscles unlock. A smile tugs at my mouth as a warmth I’m not used to spreads through my stomach.

It’s a picture of Seren sleeping in Ivy’s arms.

I stare at them, unable to look away. Ivy looks tired but more beautiful than ever. Her hair is pulled into a messy knot, and I wish my fingers were wrapped in its softness.

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