Page 35 of Diesel
TWELVE
MAKENNA
Zane steersme back into the house, shutting the door behind us and sliding the lock into place, as if that can keep someone like Riot out.
Every inch of his body is coiled like a spring waiting to unleash. I hover awkwardly when he interlaces his fingers at the back of his head and then he roars.
Shit.
I flinch.
Watching him unravel sits heavily in my gut. He’s not breathing right, his chest rising and falling in uneven, ragged pants, and for once, I don’t know how to stitch him back together.
“I told you to go inside.” The words sound like they’ve been dragged over broken glass. “They know who you are now. Do you understand that? They fucking know you exist.”
His fingers curl into fists, flexing at his side before he straightens them out again. He’s pissed, and he has every right to be, but so am I.
“Do you really think I was going to wait inside like a good little girl while you had a gun in your face?”
He lifts his eyes and all I see is guilt, regret, and fear mixed with that deep hopelessness I know he’s not going to be able to escape.
“Yes, Makenna! That’s exactly what you should have fucking done! Don’t you get it? I would have killed him with my bare hands if he’d looked at you wrong. I would’ve hunted him to the ends of the earth and carved your name on his ribs if one of your hairs was moved out of place by him. This is what I mean when I say I’m a liabilitywithyou.”
I don’t move. I can’t. What do you say to that kind of confession? What do you say to someone who is admitting they would commit atrocities in your name?
“I’m fine. Standing here without a mark on me.”
His long strides eat up the space between us, and my spine hits the wall behind me as his hands bracket either side of my head.
I blink rapidly, my heart fluttering wildly.
“Do you realise you put a target on your back just now?” He’s not yelling. His voice is terrifyingly calm and that scares me more than if he was screaming at me.
I peer up at him, lifting my chin and refusing to let him see how unsettled he’s making me. I don’t fear him hurting me. I’m more afraid of how much this is destroying him. “I’ve lived in the crosshairs of bad people my entire life, Zane. Do you think I care that I’m standing in another one? That man pointed a gun at you. A fucking gun, and you didn’t even flinch.” This time I’m the one breathing hard, the fear I’d buried flooding every cell inmy body. “It’s not normal to just stand there when someone’s threatening to kill you.”
He shoves back off the wall, giving me space. I take a shuddering breath as he drops his hands to his hips and starts pacing. It’s as if motion is the only thing keeping his head from exploding.
“You think I don’t stare into the face of danger every fucking day? Like I’ve said before, Kenna, this isn’t a weekend club. We’re not playing dress up in kuttes and boots.”
The sarcasm in his tone pisses me off. “No, but I didn’t think you were in the middle of war where your life could be on the line if you make the wrong choices. I didn’t think the men I thought were there to protect you were trying to decide whether to end your life or not.” I rub my temple, a headache blooming behind the bone. “How is this better than what we had before?”
“It’s not,” he admits. “But it should have been.”
I close my eyes, trying to centre myself.
I’m so tired. Every nerve ending feels overwrought. I blow out a breath and meet his gaze. “I would rather live on the streets, without knowing where our next meal is coming from than wonder if you’re coming home at all, Zane. You’re my home. Not the apartment, not the club. You.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, his steps slowing. “It wasn’t meant to be like this.”
“Yeah, you said, but Zane… itislike this and you’re telling me you can’t just leave. So, what the hell are we meant to do?”
“You don’t do anything. I help the others fix this andhope when the dust settles that there’s enough left to rebuild the club the way it should have been.”
“You know what hurts the most is that I was sat at home, pissed off that you were treating me like an afterthought while you were walking through a war without me.” My voice catches. “I’m not fragile, Zane. I don’t need you to place soft landings around me in case I fall.”
“I know you’re not. You never have been.” He stares at a spot on the floor, like if he doesn’t move the world might not shift again beneath us.
I take his hands in mine. They’re clammy and still trembling. “You don’t need to protect me from the dark parts of our life. I’ve already survived drug raids, social workers, group homes, foster dads… And… and worse.” He flinches at that. “I stood by you when they locked you in a cell and called you a monster. I’m in this with you. Always. But only if you’re honest with me.”
