Page 43 of Rebels & Rejects

So I know nothing I say or do will stop them from starting a war with the Antonellis. But I don’t have to insert myself in the middle of it. The intelligent thing to do is keep my head down and hope the Antonellis destroy them swiftly, without inflicting too much damage on the rest of us caught in the crosshairs. Now that I know what’s coming, I can prepare myself and focus on keeping Luc and me alive.

“Luc,” I call out as I walk through the door, kicking off my boots and hanging my leather jacket up. “You here?”

My question is met with silence, and setting my keys on the kitchen counter, I move over to his bedroom door and knock on it. When I don’t get a response, I crack it open, looking around the empty space with a wrinkled nose. His clothes are scattered everywhere, and it fucking stinks in here. Moving deeper into the room, I crack open a window to air the place out and head back to the kitchen to get started on dinner.

After staring into the half-empty fridge for a good ten minutes, debating between leftover Thai or pizza, I eventually grab the box of pizza and close the door. As I’m setting the box down on the kitchen table, I spot a scrap of paper with Luc’s sloppy writing on it.

Gone to hang out with Jon and his friends. Be back later.

Ehh, what the hell? I have to read the page twice before the words finally sink in. Luc is with Jon? How the fuck did that happen? I know Cain had some asshole following me all week—and now I’m guessing that asshole was Jon—but I’ve deliberately stayed out of trouble. I’ve even ignored every fucking message in my inbox with a potential new job. Now more than ever, I could do with watching the life drain out of an abusing asshole, but nope.

I haven’t even realized I’d crumpled the note in my palm, my anger getting the better of me until I look down to find out where Luc is so I can go hunt him down. Unfurling my hand, I flatten the piece of paper on the table and read it once again.Are you fucking serious, Luc?He doesn’t even say where he is, and I can only assume thesefriendsof his are fellow Rejects.

My hunger forgotten, I put the pizza back in the fridge, and feeling absolutely fucking furious, I snatch up my keys and put on my boots, storming out the door intent on dragging my little brother back by his goddamn ear if I have to.

I repeatedly call Luc’s number the whole way to the garage, but he ignores every damn one of my calls. When the fifth one goes unanswered, I hang up with an angry snarl and stomp the remaining few feet to my bike.

Grabbing Raven from the garage, the city passes by in an angry, red blur, the blood in my veins heating with every mile I get closer to Radiant Park. I told Jon to stay away from Luc, and I gave Luc the same warning.How could he be so stupid?

I’m so angry with him by the time I pull up outside the Rejects clubhouse that I can hardly see straight as I turn off the engine and climb off. I’m still clutching my helmet in my hands as I shove open the gate to Radiant Park and step through. The second I do though, a blaring alarm goes off, and before I’ve even figured out what’s going on, I’m surrounded by men, all of whom are pointing various-sized guns at me.

Fuck.

“Don’t take another step,” some guy I don’t recognize orders.Like I was about to.You’re pointing a fucking gun in my face. Why the hell would I move right now?! God forbid you misinterpret so much as an inhale as a sign of attack and shoot my fucking brains out.

“I’m looking for Jon,” I call out, roaming my gaze around the various Rejects. The one speaking to me has dirty blond hair styled in a short buzz cut, making him look ex-military, and as I swing my attention back his way, he speaks up again.

“What business do you have with the Rejects?”

Ha, fuck, just today or in general?

Despite the sweat gathering along my spine, I can feel myself getting irritated. I just want to find my brother so I can ream him out. Is that too much to ask? Before I can snap something back at him that would definitely guarantee me a lovely little bullet wound, a voice calls out, “Drop your weapons. She’s not a threat.”

I really want to contradict Oliver’s statement, but now probably isn’t the time, and I have to admit, I breathe out a sigh of relief when the men surrounding me all do as they’re told. Where the fuck did they all come from anyway? I didn’t get such a warm welcome the last time I was here.

I glance around for Oliver, frowning when I don’t immediately see him. I do, however, spot what I missed before—security cameras placed along the fencing surrounding the property, with what looks like motion detectors around the sidewalk gate and the entrance into the parking lot.

Huh, more high-tech than I expected, or that I’ve seen before. Usually, gang security amounts to some half-baked idiot sitting on a chair, passed out on the job. I know the Grim Bastards have a more reliable system, but it’s still men just manning the entrance to their once-fire-station-now-kingpin-kingdom and reporting who enters and leaves.

The clubhouse door opens and out strolls Oliver. The afternoon sunlight reflects off the tawny strands of his hair and makes the tattoo sleeve of his right arm stand out in contrast to his pale skin.

I forget myself for a minute, momentarily drawn back to the mystery man from that first night in Toxic as his gaze meets mine. Gone is that flirty glint and devilish smirk, and in its place is a steady gaze and a closed-off expression that, frustratingly, only annoys me further. I know I told myself to forget him and move on. That he was a distraction I couldn’t afford, but fuck me, fate—you cruel bitch—couldn’t you have at least made him someone I could have been allies with? So long as he’s a Reject and they plan on going after the Antonellis, we’re always going to be in opposition. I’m never going to be able to offer him what he wants—the Reaper—and he will never be able to provide me what I want—for him not to be a gang member, or be starting a war he can’t possibly win.

He gives a silent signal to his men, and without question they break apart, moving back to their posts and returning to whatever they were doing before I showed up. He waits until we’re alone before approaching me, stopping a respectable distance away. It infuriates me that I want him to close the gap between us so I can feel the brush of his skin against mine.

“Did you talk to the Reaper?” he asks in a hushed voice.

Of course, that’s why he thinks I’m here. Why would that asshole Cain tell him anything about our conversation the other night?

“Actually, I’m looking for Jon.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Bones? Ehh, I think he and the others are over at the sports complex.” He juts his chin forward, gesturing toward the building behind me on the opposite side of the road.

Now that I no longer have guns shoved in my face, I’m back on my mission of tearing Jon a new one and dragging my brother back home. If anything, the welcome I received is just more proof that Luc shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. What if they’d done the same to him. He’s a guy, so he would have been treated as even more of a threat than I was. What the hell was he even thinking by coming here?

Pissed off again, I turn on my heel and move to storm across the street.

“Wow, hold on,” Oliver calls out, reaching out to grab my arm. “What’s going on?”

---