Page 51 of Reaper

Scar’s gaze flicks between us. “Let’s make sure we’re ready to roll when Matrix cracks that keycard.”

“I’m ready,” I acknowledge with a tight smile. The image of Blackstone’s downfall plays behind my eyelids—a promise of retribution that fuels the fire burning in my chest. For Ace. For the club. For family.

“We need to stay focused on what we all want—Blackstone’s head on a platter.” Scar glances at me, a challenge flickering in his eyes. “But you gotta keep it together, Reaper. All this infighting over that DNA crap? We can’t have it.”

“Fine,” I spit out. “Consider it dropped.” The weight of knowing I’ve got a son still presses on my chest like a two-ton bike, but what’s done’s done. Matrix can’t undo what he did, but at this point, I’m kind of glad he did it. At least now I know the truth.

“I should’ve asked,” Matrix concedes with a shrug, the closest thing to an apology I’ll ever get from him. “Next time, I won’t go running tests on random kids, okay?”

“Make damn sure of it,” I warn, but the edge of anger is already dulling. We can’t afford distractions as long as Blackstone is still breathing.

“You got any more kids out there we should be aware of?” Nitro quips, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Nitro.” Scar scowls.

“You never know when to shut the fuck up,” Talon says.

“Church is over.” Scar slams the gavel while shaking his head at Nitro.

As I turn on my heel and storm toward the door, Nitro’s last comment claws at my guts. Could I have more kids out there? It’s doubtful. I never screwed anyone but Lexi without a rubber. I guess it’s technically possible but very, very unlikely.

Even though it’s probably never going to happen, the thought that I could have more kids running around out there is fucking horrifying. One is bad enough. I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s not good either. The idea of being a father is slowly starting to grow on me. I won’t be getting a father-of-the-year award anytime soon, but I’m also not going to turn my back on my kid.

Like it or not, I’m his dad. I’ve got to do right by him. I can’t let him turn into someone like me. I’ve got to protect him the way no one ever protected me. If I can just do that much, then I’ll be a better father to him than mine ever was to me. Maybe that’s where I need to set the bar. Not too high. But not too low either.

Chapter 20: Lexi

I perch on the riverbank, my gaze following the ceaseless dance of the water. It’s a futile attempt at finding peace, but the current’s rhythm is hypnotic, almost calming. The crunch of gravel behind me breaks the trance, and I don’t need to turn to know it’s Reaper. His presence looms, intense and familiar.

“Lexi,” he calls out in that low, growly voice that sets my body aflame. “You got any intel that could help me get inside Blackstone’s house?”

And just like that, the fire’s gone. Thinking about Blackstone chills any heat from my bones. I twist to face Reaper, noting the hard set of his jaw. Church couldn’t have gone well.

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

“Tell me about the guards.” He sits beside me, not touching me.

“The guards … There’s so many of them. It always seemed like overkill to me.” I shake my head, trying to recall their schedules. I’d caught glimpses of them while going about my chores inthat gaudy house, but I never paid much attention to them. They were background noise, if anything. “They change shifts around three times a day, but I wasn’t exactly there to spy on them, you know?”

“I know.” Reaper nods, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“What else can I tell you?” I ask, wanting to help.

“The only thing we need is intel on the guards. We know about the layout already.”

Of course he does. He knows every twisted corridor and every shadowed corner where darkness clings like cobwebs. It’s etched into him, a blueprint of hell no one should ever have to memorize.

“Reaper,” I venture cautiously, “how often did they let you out of that basement?” My heart thrums painfully at the thought of him being trapped in that place.

“Only when Blackstone threw his sick parties or wanted … personal time with one of us.” His words are raw, laced with a fury so potent it makes the air between us vibrate.

A wave of nausea rolls through me, bile rising as I imagine the horrors they faced, the innocence stolen in that dungeon. Without thinking, I close the distance between us, my arms wrapping around his broad frame. I press my lips to his, pouring every ounce of comfort I can offer into the kiss, wishing I could kiss awaythe scars that mar not just his skin but his soul.

Reaper’s arms encircle me, strong and warm, yet I feel the tremor that courses through him. It’s more than physical strength that holds him upright—it’s an ironclad will, a determination to never be that powerless again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs against my lips, offering me a rare moment of vulnerability before his steel mask of repressed rage returns.

The river gently laps against the shore, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside Reaper. I watch his jaw clench, the muscle ticking like a time bomb waiting to explode.

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