Page 38 of Secret Betrayals
I only hearrage.
And one name sits at the center of that firestorm.
Gabriella.
I pivot, storming off toward the gym. Nitro told me she wanted to “blow off steam” with her boys in there. Perfect. I hope she’s real fucking calm now.
Because if this shit is because ofher?
If she’s got any part in Talon laying on a fucking table, bleeding out while strangers cut him open?
Then I’m going to make that bitchpay.
I warned her.
She should’ve listened.
Eleven
“Some people need to learn who you are the hard way.”
As usual, the boys and I spent the last few hours in the gym sparring. Sweat, fists, controlled rage—my favorite form of therapy. It calms Sebastian, sharpens Malikai, and lets me keep my edge. It’s our routine, our ritual. And it worked. The boys are breathing easy again. My men are cracking jokes, giving the twins shit for letting their mama knock them on their asses. Everything felt okay. We weren’t on alert. No sense of danger, no sign that shit was about to go sideways.
And then a chill snakes down my spine at that thought.
It’s the kind of chill I’ve learned never to ignore.
But I shake it off.
Talon and his brothers are pissed, sure—but I didn’t peg them as suicidal. Not stupid enough to come at me or my boys. We’re not the ones to test. They know that. Or at least, they used to.
I ignore the growing pit in my stomach and keep moving, leading the boys and a few of my men down the hallway, connecting the gym to the clubhouse’s main room. The hum of music and conversation grows louder with each step, like the world hasn’t shifted beneath my feet yet.
And then it does.
The moment I cross the mouth of the hallway, a force slams into me like a freight train.
My back hits the wall with a crack. My head bounces hard, the thud of skull on concrete ricocheting inside my ears. Pain flares through my vision. My knees buckle. For a few seconds, everything is disjointed—colors, noise, pain, the scent of sweat and blood.
What the—what the fuck is happening?
I can’t breathe. Can’t think.
My brain scrambles to catch up as a pair of rough hands yanks me forward, then shoves mebackinto the wall. Fingers clamp around my throat, and my vision flickers. Rage ignites like a match to gasoline. My eyes snap open, and lock with Axel.
This motherfucker.
He’s about to be adeadmotherfucker.
My thoughts go quiet, pure fury rising like a tidal wave. He just signed his death warrant. Just as I gather the strength to break his damn neck, his weight is torn from me. Axel is ripped back, and I drop forward, coughing, sucking in oxygen like it’s been denied to me for years. My hands hit my knees, and I brace myself as the room tilts. I hear shouting, the meaty smack of fists on flesh.
“Sebastian,” I gasp.
I look up—and there he is.
My oldest. My protector. My son.
Laying into Axel with a fury no man can match. Blow for blow, they're going at it, but Axel has no fucking clue what he’s unleashed.
