Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Bria’s advice haunts me for the rest of the day.
I try to push her words away, but they creep in, wrapping around my thoughts like vines, tangling everything up until I can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t.
By the time I return home, I feel like I’m being pulled in two different directions, one where I accept what I saw at face value without questions and hope Sin isn’t planning something, and another where I let doubt settle in, whispering that nothing about last night was real.
I barely make it through dinner.
My mother watches me too carefully, like she’s studying my every move, waiting for me to crack. She doesn’t push, but I feel her eyes on me, patient and expectant. Like she knows something changed.
Cameron, on the other hand, is more talkative than usual. He goes on about business deals, security shifts, things I should probably be paying attention too. But the words slip through my ears like water.
I can’t focus.
My phone chimes and I excuse myself to my room, jumping onto the soft comforter.
Bria: You figure out anything?
Magnolia: Nope. Just boring business talks. You?
Bria: Sin’s noticed I’ve been acting different. I went to his office when he wasn’t home and the blueprint was lying on the floor. He had drawn more stuff on it.
She sends a picture, and she’s right. He used a blue ink pin this time, drawing lines of exits from each room.
Magnolia: What is he up to?
Bria: Honestly, I think you need to talk to him. He’s been acting really edgy lately, like weird.
Magnolia: Example?
Bria: Yesterday, he snapped at one of his men for knocking too loud. Like, actually snapped, threw a glass at the wall and everything. He never loses control like that.
Magnolia: I’m too scared to ask him about it. What’s your opinion on it?
Bria: I think the blueprints aren’t about hurting your family I think they’re exit strategies to keep you safe. I think something is coming.
Magnolia: Ominous.
Bria: I know, but I know Sin and I’m telling you whatever it is he isn’t trying to hurt you.
The house is eerily silent by the time I step into the hall, the grand chandelier casting long shadows against the marble floors.
Axle stirs as I pass my bedroom, lifting his head from where he’s curled up on my bed. His ears perk up, his dark eyes watching me carefully.
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the doorknob. He knows.
Axle always knows.
But I don’t need witnesses for this.
“Stay,” I whisper.
His ears twitch, and for a moment, I think he’s going to follow. But then he lowers his head again, exhaling a deep sigh.
Good.
I don’t need anything stopping me.
The cold air bites against my skin as I slip through the back entrance and onto the quiet streets. I move fast, pulling my coat tighter around me, blending into the night like a shadow.
Bria told me he isn’t home.
I don’t know where Sin is, but I know where to start.
The club is a graveyard tonight.
No flashing lights. No bass thudding through the walls. No bodies tangled in rhythm, lost to the chaos of sweat and sound. Just stillness. Just quiet.
I reach for the door, it’s locked.
My pulse kicks up as I rattle the handle, harder than necessary, like force alone might undo the space that’s grown between us. But the door stays shut. The music that once lived here is just a ghost now, a memory in the silence.
He’s not here.
A hot flush of frustration rises in my chest as I step back onto the sidewalk. I don’t know where I’m going. I just move. Feet carrying me forward, the city smeared in lights and noise I can’t hear.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
If he really betrayed me, why am I still chasing shadows? What good is the truth if it only hurts?
But if he didn’t…
If Bria was right.
The thought slices through me like glass.
Hope.
God, it’s dangerous.
But I can’t stop. Not yet.
And then I feel it.
The hair on my arms rises before I even hear his voice.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
I freeze, spinning around.
Sin stands in the shadows, just a few feet away. Watching me.
His hands are tucked into his pockets, his stance deceptively casual, but I know better. The dim streetlights cast golden edges along his sharp features, making him look like something carved from shadow and light.
Something I can’t have.
Something I shouldn’t want.
I swallow hard. “Then why are you?”
His jaw tightens.
He doesn’t answer.
Good.
Because I have my own questions.
I take a step closer.
The air between us shifts, heavy now, thick with everything we haven’t said.
“Tell me the truth.”
My voice is low, steady, but it feels like it costs me something.
Sin exhales through his nose, slow. His eyes drop for the briefest second before they’re back on mine.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
I take another step, my heart thudding hard in my chest. “The blueprint.”
He doesn’t answer.
Just watches me.
Like he’s weighing something.
Like he’s trying to decide how much of the truth I can handle, or how much he’s willing to give.
Finally, he speaks.
“Whatever you’re thinking… it’s not what’s really going on.”
He steps in, just a little, his voice softer but sharper now. Like a secret on the edge of a knife.
“Your family’s planning something,” he says. “And they’re making damn sure I’m not part of it.”
His eyes darken. “You weren’t supposed to come back to me.”
“Is that why you’ve been pushing me away?”
His jaw flexes. “It’s the only way I knew how to protect you.”
That hits something raw. Anger, heartbreak. Too much all at once.
I shove at his chest. He doesn’t move.
“You don’t get to decide that!”
I push him again, harder. “You don’t get to choose what I feel. What I want.”
He catches my wrist, firm but gentle. Not stopping me, just holding me there.
Like he knows I need to let this out.
His grip tightens, just slightly. “You think I want you gone? That I don’t want to tear you away from all of them?”
His voice roughens, low and bitter. “I’m trying not to start a goddamn war, Magnolia!” His eyes flick over my face, pain tightening every line.
“You think I like seeing that look in your eyes?”
My throat burns. I won’t cry. Not here.
Not in front of him.
“Then why didn’t you come after me?”
For a second, his fingers tense around mine, then he lets go.
His shoulders go rigid.
“Because I knew you’d come back.”
I go still.
The worst part?
He’s right.
I look at him, really look at him.
His eyes aren’t just dark, they’re tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of pushing me away.
And maybe I’m tired too.
Tired of hurting. Tired of running.
Slowly, I close the space between us.
“Why?” I whisper. “Why are you so sure I’d come back?”
He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t blink.
He lifts his hands, cups my face like I’m something breakable.
“Because you’re just as wrecked over me as I am over you.”
And then he kisses me.
And just like always, I fall.
There’s no stopping it.
I don’t want to.
I never did.
His mouth crashes back into mine and this time, it’s not sweet. There’s no hesitation. Just heat. Teeth. Tongue. The taste of anger and heartbreak and all the things we never said.
My back slams into the brick wall, the shock of cold cutting through me, but I don’t care.
I claw at his shirt, dragging it up over his head, desperate to feel his skin on mine.
He’s heat and muscle and fury. His body crowds mine, pinning me, holding me still like I’m something wild he finally caught.
He breaks the kiss, lips trailing fire down my jaw, to my throat. “You will always.” he breathes, his voice nothing but smoke. “always come back to me.”
“I shouldn’t have,” I whisper, even as my hands slide down his stomach to his belt. “I should hate you.”
“You do hate me,” he growls, popping the button on my jeans, dragging the zipper down so fast I gasp. “But your pussy doesn’t.”
I cry out as his hand slides between my thighs, two fingers pressing hard against the silk of my panties, already soaked.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re dripping.”
“Don’t stop,” I pant, dizzy from the weight of him, from how much I shouldn’t want this. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
His lips curl against my neck. “Oh, Mags, I’m not stopping until you can’t stand up straight.”
He tries to be careful with my dress this time but fails miserably, ripping it at the chest. Panties torn as he slips his inked fingers around them and lifts me in one fluid motion.
My legs wrap around his waist. My bare back scrapes against the wall, but it doesn’t matter, not when he lines up and thrusts inside me like he owns my body. Like he built it for this.
I scream into his shoulder, and he groans like he’s breaking.
“You feel that?” he snarls, hips slamming into mine. “That’s mine. Every fucking inch of you. I don’t care where you go, who you run to, you’ll never forget the way I fuck you.”
I claw at his back, digging my nails into his skin. “Sin…”
“You want sweet?” he rasps. “Try to find someone soft. But if you’re with me…” He thrusts again, harder. “You get ruined.” We’re colliding in the shadows where love looks like ruin and need sounds like desperation.
I moan, head dropping back against the brick as pleasure rips through me like a lightning strike. A euphoric laugh escapes him. “I would fucking destroy anyone who tries to touch you.” he whispers in my ear.
His hand slides between us, finding the bundle of nerves that makes me jerk in his arms. He circles it once. Twice. A third time. “This isn’t a romance, Magnolia. This is obsession.”
Another thrust. I’m choking on every breath.
“This is me needing to bury myself so deep inside of you, that way you feel me for days.” His other hand wraps around my throat, tilting my head back.
“This is me never letting you go.”
And then, his voice lowers to something darker.
“But don’t you dare ask me to make you promises.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t blink. I can’t. Not with his hand on my throat. Not with him inside me like this. Not when my body’s unraveling, tension coiling impossibly tight.
“Because I won’t,” he growls. “I’ll take you. I’ll break you. But I won’t lie to you.”
That’s what makes me fall apart. Not the words, but the brutal honesty in them.
I come undone with a cry, legs trembling around him, nails raking down his back as pleasure consumes me.
It’s violent. Messy. Not beautiful- but real.
“But I do love you with every fiber of my fucking being.” He follows with a deep, guttural moan, spilling into me as his body shudders against mine.
For a moment, there’s nothing but breath. Heat. Silence.
Then he lets me slide down the wall, my dress twisted on the ground, panties long gone.
He tucks himself back in, watching me like I’m some wreck he can’t stop staring at.
“I love you too.” I say finally.
He lights a cigarette with shaking hands but doesn’t look at me. “You shouldn’t.”