Page 79 of Choices

“Or you suck,” I reiterate.

Stroking the pad of his thumb over the ten of clubs, Monster says, “Did you know the colors represent night and day?”

“Really?” Rogue questions.

“Cards symbolize the calendar,” he informs us.

“Bullshit. If they did, why are there fifty-two cards and not twelve?” Green scoffs, twisting his lips.

“There are twelve court cards for the months and fifty-two for the weeks, genius.” Monster hands the pack to me, keeping his gaze fixed on Green. The bastard is scary when his focus lands solely on you.

“How do you know this stuff?” Green asks, lines crinkling his eyes. I search for similarities to his brother but find none.

“I know everything,” Monster says, matter-of-factly. His phone buzzes, and he puts it beneath the table surface to read the message. “I have to go.” Scooting his chair back, he gets to his feet.

Rogue tracks his departure, the mirth gone from her pretty face. “I’ll be back,” she says before taking off after him.

“What’s that about?” Green screws up his face in confusion. “One more game?” Green jerks his chin toward the cards I’m shuffling.

Callan’s shadow creeps over his form, big hands resting on his shoulders, making him startle. “I need to talk to my sister.”

Green gets to his feet and joins his brother at the table behind us without a word.

Looking around the room, Callan frowns. “Where’d Rogue go?”

The truth is on the tip of my tongue, but I find myself lying on her behalf. “Bathroom.” I don’t know why I lie. There’s nothing going on between them, but there is something she’s not letting on about. I can feel it.

Spinning the chair around, he straddles the seat, folding his arms on the backrest. “Anything you want to talk to me about?”

Leaning back, I pick up my drink and swirl the ice in the glass. “Since when do we talk?” I snort. Dark eyes bore into me, the vein in his neck throbbing.

“I’m your brother. You can come to me with anything. You know that, right?”

“You’re being weird. What’s going on?” Unease settles in my stomach.

His eyes flick over his shoulder to Chris and Green. “I heard the new brother may have a thing for you.”

Thud.

“Who told you that?” My brows lower.

“Does it matter?”

Slamming the glass down, I lean toward him. “I don’t know, does it?”

Taking a measured pause, he cranks his neck. “Claire said there’s some friction over you with Cutter and Wheels.”

My hackles rise, every hair follicle pimpling on my skin. The pulse of my heart hammers in my ears. What the fuck does the bitch know about Chris and me, and how did she get to him and Cutter having friction? I rack my brain for an answer, glancing at Chris. He’s nursing his drink, lost in thought, and Cutter left twenty minutes ago. Not that I’m paying attention.

“Claire’s a fucking asshole. Since when do you listen to anything she has to say?”

“It’s reckless to play brothers against each other, Kit. You’re a beautiful girl. Of course new members or prospects are going to show interest, and Cutter’s protective.”

“Fuck off, Callan,” I snap, furious heat racing through my veins. “I don’t need a lecture from you. I’m a grown woman.”

“Calm down. I’m not lecturing you.” His lips press into a thin line.

“No, you’re gaslighting me, as usual.” My nostril flare. My hand tightens around my glass, pain shooting through my cuts.

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