Page 97 of Beautiful Ruins
Her presence was all I needed, her watchful eyes waiting for the moment when my guilt and grief over Logan finally swallowed me whole.
I nodded, falling into step beside her as we made our way to the parking lot where a row of gleaming Harleys stood waiting. Rowan, Bear, Scout, and Eddie had already mounted their bikes, the low rumble of engines cutting through the hushed conversations around us. The grit shifted beneath their boots as they pushed off, a gust of hot air carrying exhaust fumes brushing past us.
Levi Stone, Nash’s half-brother, hosted the wake at his small three-bedder in the heart of the town, across the road from Barrenridge park. He lived there with his fiancée, Paige.
Groups of guests hovered near the folding chairs set out on the lawn, their voices an inaudible murmur beneath the grief this town was so good at handing out.
Jasmine and I hung back as the guys dismounted their bikes. Rowan gave the crowd a slow once-over, his leather cut tightening over his shoulders as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
His gaze finally settled on me, his shoulders loosening just a fraction—almost invisible, but I felt it. Snake was still out there somewhere, and time was slipping through my fingers before I facedmy father.
But before all that, Nash.
I steeled myself and made my way up the path to where he stood alone beneath a tree, phone pressed to his ear. The screen’s glow flickered across his tight features. It was intrusive to just stand there and eavesdrop, but when the name Anthony Robinson fell from his lips, my heart leaped into my throat, freezing me in place.
He was investigating Snake? Shit. He had no idea what he was getting into with that arsehole. I couldn’t just let him stumble down that dark road. Not many survived to tell the story. I’d seen what Snake left behind—blood, ruin, silence.
Nash’s conversation wrapped up, and he stood there, staring at his phone like it held the secrets he was desperately seeking. I hoped I could provide him with at least one shred of clarity, if nothing else.
I took a breath of warm, scented air, and stepped up beside him. “Nash?” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. My voice was softer than I intended, but he spun around so fast, I almost yanked him off balance.
His eyes softened when they met mine. “Hey, Sades,” he murmured, the smallest hint of warmth in his voice. “Thanks for coming. Didn’t think I’d ever see you back in Barrenridge, though. You here for good?” His gaze flickered over my shoulder to Rowan, who was casually leaning against his bike, a picture of faux calm amidst the chaos.
He stuck out like a sore thumb in his Ridge Riders cut, and that steely gaze locked on me like I might vanish if he dared to blink. My stomach twisted under the weight of that look, but I knew right then and there that Rowan Knight wasn’t just the one I’d chosen—he was the one I’d never walk away from again.
A small smile tugged at my lips. “I am now,” I said, willing my voice to remain steady.
Nash nodded, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand—an unconscious gesture that conveyed both exhaustion and release. “I’m happy for you. Rowan’s a good man,” he said, his tone genuine.
“Yeah, he is.” I ran a hand across my forehead, hoping to ease the tension. But nothing could shake the knot of dread in my chest. “Listen, I—I didn’t mean to overhear your conversation.” Nash lifted a brow, curiosity piqued. I swallowed and leaned in. “Anthony Robinson,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper as I chewed on a thumbnail, hesitation gripping me as I weighed the decision to divulge more. “What are you getting yourself into?”
Nash stepped forward, his jaw tight, eyes darkening. “Wait—youknowhim?” His voice dropped, low and rough, like the name alone had just scraped across his nerves.
I forced a slow nod, heart hammering. “You could say that. So do you. He was a few years ahead of us in school, but he doesn’t go by that name anymore.” Nash tilted his head, confusion etched into every line on his face. I drew in a sharp intake of breath and let it out in a sigh. “He goes by the name of Snake now.”
Across the lawn, Rowan shifted beside his bike, the afternoon light glinting off the chrome. He narrowed his eyes, muscles coiling in his forearms. The tension rolling off him was palpable, even from where I was standing. His gaze zeroed in on me, an almost imperceptible glint of violence in his eyes.
Nash wasn’t going to hurt me, but Rowan was on edge, and I couldn’t blame him for being protective. He was the ground I walked on, always there to steady me.
Nash’s gaze snapped in his direction, pupils contracting. “He’s a Ridge Rider?”
The question hit me like a slap. My chest tightened. “Yeah. The dangerous kind,” I mumbled, memories of Rowan half-dead on the clubhouse hospital bed almost choking me up. “He tried to have Rowan killed—almost succeeded. And now he’s vanished. No-one can find him.”
Around us, mourners milled quietly, the smell of wilting flowers clinging to the warm breeze. But all I could focus on was the weight of Nash’s stare and the smoke curling from Rowan’s cigarette—a lit fuse.
Nash rubbed at the back of his neck, wincing. “Jesus.” He frowned and ducked his head. “Do you know if he has any connection to the Sunfire Circle?”
I shrugged one shoulder, letting my gaze drift back to where Rowan lounged against his bike, one boot hooked on the frame, the cigarette dangling from his fingers as a thread of smoke drifted into the golden air. Maybe I should’ve kept it to myself. But hiding it would’ve been worse. Wouldn’t it?
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I know about the print—so does Rowan. He said he saw Snake at the clubhouse the night of the murders. Look, whatever Snake’s actual involvement is, just be careful, okay?”
Nash blinked, staring at me like he’d just swallowed broken glass. “Sure,” he mumbled, but his eyes were already glazing over.
With a small, reassuring smile, I darted back over to Rowan, leaving Nash standing there to stew in whatever shit I’d just dropped on him. I didn’t know if I’d just saved him or doomed him. But either way, the truth was out now, and there was no walking it back.
Rowan crossed his arms, his leather cut creaking under the strain. “What was that all about?” he said, eyes weary, voice low.
I hesitated, unsure how to even say it. My pulse thudded beneath my ribs as I glanced back at Nash, who was still rubbing his neck, as if trying to shake the conversationoff. Worse was that Nash’s own sister lay buried with all the answers he’d begun to dig for.
