Rage (War Brothers MC #7)

Chapter 1

ONE

INFIDELITY AND BETRAYAL

Rose

The limousine glides to a stop outside the church.

I step out on unsteady legs. My dad is waiting for me at the entrance, smiling proudly.

I take a few deep breaths trying to calm myself, then walk over.

Looking up at the heavy clouds, I frown.

“I hope it doesn’t rain on my wedding day,” I murmur to Kayla, my best friend and maid of honor, who’s by my side.

We’ve been inseparable for five years, but today she seems distant.

I expected support from my bridal party, not this . . . detachment.

My hands are shaking while I hold the bouquet. “I’m so nervous,” I mutter.

Kayla steps behind me, adjusting the train of my dress.

“Thank you,” I say with a small smile. But she doesn’t smile back. Instead, tears well in her eyes.

Soft music plays inside the church, signaling that it’s time. “Come on, Kayla, you’re up,” my dad says, his voice gentle but firm.

She abruptly shakes her head, and my heart accelerates. What’s wrong?

“Hold on, Dad,” I say to him, my voice tight with unease. I pull Kayla aside, my pulse quickening. “What’s going on?”

Tears spill down her cheeks as she pulls her arm away. She walks away, so I follow her until she stops and turns.

“I begged him to tell you, but he wouldn’t.”

I tilt my head as confusion settles in. “Who are you talking about?”

“Tyler . . .” she whispers.

I freeze. “What hasn’t he told me?” My voice is sharp with panic.

“He . . .” she stammers, her lip trembling. “He’s been having an affair with me . . . for the past year.”

I inhale sharply and clutch my chest as if trying to hold my heart together. The weight of her words crashes into me, and I stumble back.

“Rose, what’s going on, sweetheart?” Dad asks with concern. He’s out of earshot.

With tense muscles and heart pounding, I take a good look at Kayla. She was supposed to be my best friend, and she betrayed me. “You bitch!” I scream. “How dare you! Pretending to be my best friend while screwing my fiancé?”

I’m not marrying Tyler. Not now.

Dad gasps.

Kayla stands there with slumped shoulders, her face streaked with tears. “I deserve that . . .” she says quietly.

She deserves so much more.

I force myself to look at my dad. “Can you get me my bag? It should be with Mom?” I need to get out of here; the pain is heavy . . . suffocating . . . nauseating.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his brows furrowed with worry.

I nod, blinking rapidly, forcing the tears to stay put. “Please, Dad.” My voice is raw.

He nods and walks into the church. I hear the light chatter inside. Seeing my dad walk in first at my wedding has people talking.

“You were supposed to be my best friend.” My voice is tortured but has an edge of rage. “How could you two do this to me?”

Her shoulders sag further, but I feel no sympathy for her. “It just happened,” she says weakly. “And then we couldn’t stop.”

The thought of those two together makes me flinch. I want to vomit.

“I think I love him,” she declares.

I give her a death stare. “You wait until my wedding day to tell me?” In one day I’m losing my best friend and my relationship, the money I spent on this stupid wedding, and perhaps my sanity. “You’ve ruined everything!”

Dad rushes out and hands me my bag. “Where are you going?” he asks with a deep frown.

I shake my head. I can’t talk anymore or I’ll cry, so I turn, ignoring the murmurs behind me. My heart is pounding as I run and get into the limousine, slamming the door behind me. Only then do I let the tears fall. I wasn’t going to give Kayla the satisfaction of seeing me crying.

“Where would you like to go, ma’am?” the driver asks cautiously.

Where can I go? I’m staying here at a hotel with Tyler, family, and friends.

If I go home, Tyler might turn up. I can’t see his face right now.

I can’t go to my parents; I don’t think I can deal with anyone else’s emotions as my life crashes down around me.

I’m in a town I’m not too familiar with.

I wanted to get married here in Crown Village because it’s a seaside town.

“The closest bar,” I choke out.

My hands flop on my knees, over the layers of my big, puffy wedding dress.

I’m going to stand out wearing this, but right now I don’t have a choice.

I need a drink to ease the pain of betrayal by the two people I thought were closest to me.

The thought churns in my mind, making me question everything I thought I knew.

More tears fall as my heart aches. I can’t hold it in any longer, and I sob. Acidic tears fall hard and fast, and my chest heaves as I continue to cry. My heart is shattered.

My phone buzzes continuously with calls, messages, notifications, but I can’t bear to talk to anyone. I turn it off and stare out the window, watching the blur of houses pass by until the car finally slows to a stop.

The driver turns to me. “We’re here. This is a hotel, but it has a bar, restaurant, and entertainment area.”

“Thank you,” I manage, my voice hoarse.

He clears his throat. “So, I assume you don’t need my services anymore?”

“You would be correct.” I pull out the small mirror from my bag and wipe my eyes with a tissue. They’re red, and my face is splotchy. “Just give me a minute.” I take a moment to settle down. I wait until my face doesn’t look like I just came from a funeral, even though it feels like I have.

I step out in front of the hotel. I hesitate at the entrance, my hand hovering over the door handle, but I force myself to push it open.

Head down, I walk past reception, a bustling hall where a function seems to be in full swing, and a restaurant filled with the hum of conversation.

I keep walking, looking around. “Jesus Christ, where’s the bar?

” I mutter under my breath, my heels clicking against the floor.

Finally I spot it. Bartenders are serving customers from behind a wooden bar. The crowd is a mix of people. A few are leaning against the bar, but most others are sitting in tight groups at high-top tables.

I pull out a stool. “Stupid dress,” I grumble, gathering up the fabric of the giant skirt and plopping down. Whispers ripple around me, but I keep my gaze fixed on the counter, avoiding eye contact.

“Congratulations,” the bartender says.

I push past the tightness in my throat. “No . . . it didn’t work out.” My voice is flat, the words bitter on my tongue. Catastrophe would be a better word, and that’s putting it mildly.

He cringes. “I’m sorry about that. What can I get you?”

“Fruit tingle—a double.”

He gives me a look of understanding. “Coming right up.”

I slip the engagement ring off my finger. I’m a jeweler, and I poured so many hours into that ring. Now it feels like a cruel joke. I sniffle and can’t stop the few tears that roll down my cheeks, but I quickly wipe them away before anyone notices.

The bartender places the drink in front of me. “Here, ma’am. The first one’s on the house.”

I smile at him, grateful for his kindness. “Thank you.” I bring the cold drink to my lips and gulp it all down until only ice remains in the glass. It’s sweet and refreshing, but nowhere near enough. I slide the glass back to him. “I’ll take another.”

He doesn’t hesitate. I smash that one too and request another because there’s still a strong ache in my chest.

What I don’t understand is Tyler. How can he say he loves me one night but cheat on me with my best friend the next?

That’s not love. My stomach is in knots as I replay the last few years.

I can’t believe I was so blindsided. I thought I was lucky that my best friend and partner got along so well. My cheeks heat with embarrassment.

My family, friends, and everyone in my hometown are going to find out the truth.

I’m going to be the clueless woman who didn’t see it.

Did anyone else know? I rub my chest. They waited for the worst possible time to tell me, embarrassing me like that.

Why didn’t Tyler just leave me and go be with her?

Why let it get to my wedding day? I wasted so many years with him.

The air-conditioning is cool inside the bar area, but I just feel cold . . . all the way to my broken heart.

A chair scrapes beside me and a deep voice cuts through my thoughts. “I’ll take a beer,” the man says to the bartender. “And another drink for the bride.”

Please don’t talk to me. Please don’t talk to me.

“Is anyone sitting here?” he asks.

I glance around. Yep, he’s talking to me. God damn it! I look up at him—and freeze, staring deep into a younger man’s ocean-blue eyes. Both stormy and intense. He’s gorgeous.

“No, it’s free,” I say, giving him a tight smile.

“Did you just get married?” he asks, his tone curious.

Screw it. I’m feeling a little lighter from the alcohol. “Nope . . . instead I found out my best friend has been screwing my partner for a year, and she decided to tell me right before I was due to walk down the aisle.”

His face falls. “I’m so sorry,” he says, and it sounds genuine. “I hate cheaters.”

Goosebumps erupt over my arms. We agree on something.

His brows pull in. “Are you cold?”

Before I can answer, he slips out of his hoodie and passes it to me. I can smell his cologne. It’s refreshing but has a bold masculine scent. “Thank you,” I say softly, and slip it over my curled hair. His hoodie is warm, and even though I’m a big girl, it still fits me.

I glance down at my attire. A puff of air escapes me. “I’m a wreck with a hoodie on over the top of a fancy wedding dress. Real classy.”

“Nah,” he says, his lips curving into a smile. “You look sexy.”

The compliment catches me off guard, and I dissolve on the spot. But is he saying it out of sympathy? “Thank you for being nice to me. You go and enjoy your night. I’ll be at the bar whenever you want your hoodie back.” Let’s face it—I’ll be here till they close.

He shakes his head, a small, confident smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”