Page 80 of House Rules
But I should. Fuck, Ishould.
Because this—her—is dangerous. Not just to the game. To everything.
And if I’m not careful, she’ll ruin me in ways no one else ever could.
25
Phoenix
I neededthat more than I thought was possible.
Not the sex—though God knows it was devastating—but the break. The release. The crack in both of us that let something hot and dark and reckless pour through.
I hadn’t meant to push him. Not like that. Not with the things I said. But when he cornered me, pressing for truths I couldn’t give him, everything inside me snapped. The good girl act, the compliant facade—I set it all on fire just to watch him burn.
And he did.
But I burnedwith him.
My body still trembles from the aftershocks. My thighs ache where they’d clamped around him, my skin marked by his touch in places only he’s ever seen. It’s not the first time he’s touched me like that. Not even close. We were each other’s firsts—two reckless kids in one of his family’s hotel rooms, fumbling and breathless and a little terrified of being caught.
That memory had haunted me more than once over the years. Con’s touch. Maverick’s eyes on us. The heat of it. The way he’d looked at me afterward, like I was the only real thing in a world built on pretend—until I’d broken his heart. That moment was ours, before my cowardice came between us. Before he learned to use people and I learned to hide.
Today felt nothing like that.
And yet, somewhere in today’s rawness, in its edge, in its fury—we found something both familiar and different. Something that didn’t just scrape against old scars but carved out new ones.
It wasn’t about pleasure. Not really. It was about power. About control. About daring each other to go further than we should have.
Still, the way his body moved against mine, the way he filled me so completely—it stole every breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. I’ve never been stretched like that. Never felt so fully claimed, every nerve ending lit up like a goddamn bonfire. My legs gave out before he even left the room.
He looked angry when he did. Not just frustrated. Wounded. Like he’d lost something he hadn’t meant to give away.
And maybe I did too.
I soak in the tub, the scent of vanilla bubbles wrapping around me. My muscles scream in the best possible way, and there’s no way I won’t be sore tomorrow, but my mind won’t quiet. I replay every second—every glare, every command, every thrust—and something inside me shudders.
Not in fear. In recognition. Whatever this is between us, it’s dangerous. It’s destructive.
But for the first time in weeks, I feel alive.
I take my time soaking, sinking low beneath the bubbles as the warmth seeps into my bones. It isn’t until the water turns tepid, my skin wrinkled and flushed, that I finally pull the drain. Even then, I sitthere for a moment, watching the spiral of soapy water disappear, before turning the taps and refilling the tub.
The second soak isn’t for my muscles—it’s for my mind.
The Titans know.
Somehow, some way, they figured out I’ve been poking around. That I’ve been trying to connect them to Rachel’s death and to the other staff members who vanished without a trace. They might not know the full scope of it yet, but they know enough to have called me out. Enough for Con to demand answers.
And still I gave him none.
A part of me wants to go to them now—to come clean. To tell them everything. About the mobsters. About the debt my father left behind. About how he decided to eat a bullet and how I’ve been drowning in silence and blood ever since. About the threat still hanging over my head like a loaded gun.
But reality slaps that fantasy clean out of me.
What would they do with that information? Con, Storm, Atticus, Maverick—they’re not my saviors.They’re not knights in shining anything. They’re kings of this kingdom, and I’m still the outsider waiting for the gallows to drop.
I can’t even picture it. Storm wrapping me in a warm embrace, whispering,we’ll take care of it, Phoenix. We’ll make it all go away.
