Page 2 of Ravaged and Ruined
My stomach turns. The worst part? She’s not wrong. She didn’t force my hand. She just knew exactly what to say, what buttons to press, to turn my jealousy into something lethal. And I let her.
Sofia steps closer again, pressing her palm flat against my chest. I don’t move. I don’t let her see how deep she’s digging.
“You did it for me,” she murmurs. “And I love you even more for it.”
I grab her wrist again, firmer this time, “I did it because I was a fucking idiot.”
Her smile vanishes. The mask slips, and for a brief second, I see a flash of real anger beneath the charm, the frustration she tries so damn hard to hide. Then, her lips curl, and she leans in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Liar. You love me.”
The heat rises in my chest, but it’s not the kind she’s hoping for. It’s not desire, it’s something darker, something bitter and unforgiving.
I nod. “I did love you, and it got me four years in a cage.”
She shakes her head, disbelief flickering across her face. “You don’t just stop loving someone, Stone.”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t react. That’s what she wants, it’s what she needs. For me to show her she still has some kind of hold over me. I exhale through my nose, steadying myself. “I did.”
I push her away, dropping her wrist before her touch sends us both up in flames. “This is over. There is no we anymore.”
I take a step back, putting space between us. A beat of silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. Then, she exhales sharply, stepping back, her mask slipping just enough for me to see the frustration flicker across her face. Her lips part like she’s about to argue, but something in my expression must tell her I’m done, because her mouth snaps shut. Her eyes darken. Then, she laughs again, softer this time, but there’s nothing warm in it.
“You’ll regret this,” she says, tilting her chin up. “You can’t just walk away from me.”
“I can and I am. This is over.” I turn my back on her and start walking in the opposite direction.
The past is still chained to my ankles, but I’ll be damned if I let it drag me down again.
Chapter One
Aero
I knew when I took the position of President that running my own chapter wouldn’t be easy. Capone and I talked about it at length when he gave me the news that Jameson had appointed me to lead this chapter, with his blessing and full support. But no conversation, no amount of planning, prepared me for it being this fucking hard.
The weight of leadership isn’t just about making the right calls, keeping the club strong, or making sure no one steps out of line. It’s not even about the endless fights, the threats that never stop coming, or the enemies waiting for us to slip. Those I can handle. That’s the job. That’s what I signed up for. But this?
This is something else entirely.
Lacey moves on the makeshift dance floor, her body swaying to the slow thrum of music pulsing through the clubhouse speakers. She’s not dancing for anyone in particular, but the way she moves has every man in the room stealing a glance. Some are more blatant than others.
I see it. I feel it. The low hum of tension rolling through me like a slow-building storm. And I fucking hate it.
My dog, Dog, is glued to her side, his eyes locked on her like he’s appointed himself her personal bodyguard. He’s never been like that with anyone but me. Loyal to a fault, never straying, always a shadow at my side since the day I found him outside the clubhouse and took him in. But that dumb dog follows Lacey around like she hung the damn moon.
It rubs me the wrong way. Not because Dog’s protective. No, that part I understand. I trust his instincts more than most people I know. It’s because I know exactly why he’s so damn attached to her.
The same reason my fists clench every time another man so much as looks in her direction. The same reason my gut tightens when she laughs, the sound wrapping around me like a fucking vice.
Possession.
Mine.
The thought is as sharp as a blade, cutting through the wall I’ve spent months building between us.
When I first met Lacey, she was working with Emery at the strip club. She was a damn tease, and she knew it. When she took the stage, I thought I lost my damn mind. It was like my fantasies had come to life. Then she looked at me. Danced for me. Every instinct told me to drag her off that stage, away from the hungry stares and crude comments. But she was too mesmerizing to stop watching, too wild and free in that moment. And damn it, I enjoyed every second of it. But once I got my hands on her later that night, I knew nothing would ever be the same. She was made for me but that doesn’t change a damn thing. Since then, I’ve spent too many nights with her in my bed, and when she’s not I spend them thinking about her in ways I shouldn’t.
Dog dips his head under the long skirt of Lacey's sundress that’s floating around her ankles causing her to chuckle. I can’t help but be jealous of the damn needy bastard, who's now got his face between her legs where mine should be. Although I would aim a few feet higher and she wouldn’t be chuckling, she’d be moaning and panting and screaming my name. The only name that should ever fall from her lips.
I drag in a slow breath, gripping the armrest of my chair as I remind myself that I don’t need this shit. I don’t need her. Lacey is a complication I can’t afford.
