Page 40 of Hellbent
I shake my head. “What, nearly dying? Yeah, total thrill.”
“Not that part. The speed. The recklessness. Seems like it felt good for you to let go for once.”
I just smile, but he’s right. It did feel good.
Damian shifts, drumming his fingers once before speaking again. “You ever get to do shit like that before? Just…go?”
My fingers tighten on the wheel. This is the part where I should deflect. Laugh it off. Tell him to mind his own damn business. But I don’t. Maybe it’s the rush of the speed still coursing through me, or the heat from that kiss still simmering beneath my skin. I give him something real.
“Not with my ex,” I say, keeping my voice neutral. “Billy had to be in charge, you know? Everything had to be a certain way. His way.”
Damian doesn’t say anything, he just waits for me to continue.
I keep my eyes on the road, swallowing the lump in my throat that came out of nowhere. “It wasn’t always like that—not at first. But then he built something. A business. People started treating him like he was untouchable, and it went to his head. Money, power, respect—he had it all. And there were other women, too. But I…I was always the one who had to bend, who had to be who he wanted me to be. Because I needed him. Depended on him for my survival.”
I don’t tell him about the men around Billy. The ones who keep his empire standing, the ones who make sure his will is law. I don’t want to risk saying anything about the club.
Like the others, I’ve let Damian believe I come from a world he’d recognize—shitty ex-boyfriend, bad choices, end ofstory. Maybe that’s cowardly, but I don’t want this conversation veering toward anything I’d have to explain. Not after I seeing how much Wyatt hates that world, and learning that Ryder does, too.
So I leave it at Billy. One man. The one who put an invisible leash around my neck and tightened it every time I tried to pull away.
I tell him how we met. How, at first, he protected me. And how later, he started shrinking me down, piece by piece, until I was just small enough to be manageable.
When I’m done talking, Damian exhales slowly.
“Sounds like a real piece of shit.”
There’s a quiet promise in his tone, something dark and absolute.
I let out a dry chuckle, hollow and flat. “Yeah.”
For a moment, we fall silent. The weight of it lingers, heavy and unspoken.
Then he stretches, and his voice dips back into something teasing. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Finch, but you drive like a fucking menace.”
A snort escapes me before I can stop it. “Says the guy who handed me the keys.”
“Hey,” he says, voice warm with amusement, “I never said I was a good influence.”
I roll my eyes but smile as we cut back through the snowy streets at a steady but reasonable pace.
CHAPTER TEN
THE BREAK ROOM is dim with the overhead light switched off. Two ancient-looking lamps glow on either side of the couch, their amber light casting long shadows. The TV on the wall emits a faint blue glow, Damian and Jake’s video game left idle. A ready soldier sways patiently side to side on the screen, waiting for someone to pick up a controller and bring him to life.
A half-empty bottle of whiskey sits on the table between us, Jake’s offering when he showed up after work to celebrate “Dad being away.” He’s beside me, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, his fingers barely grazing my shoulder. Across from us, Damian lounges in the chair, boots propped up on the rickety coffee table, a well-thumbed stack of auto magazines pushed to one side.
“Let’s put on some music.” The whiskey is wending its way through my veins, making me restless. “It’s too quiet.”
Jake reaches for his phone. “Sure. What are you thinking?”
“Something loud,” I say. “Something we can move to.”
Damian lifts a brow. “Dance party, eh?”
“C’mon.” I stand. “Let’s do something. The garage is empty. Music’ll sound better in there.”
Damian exhales a slow, amused breath but doesn’t argue. “Fine. But if you put on something awful, I’m leaving.”
