Chapter 5
Ry
I've just wrapped a towel around my still wet hair when the bathroom door opens. Rev stands in the opening, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl firmly on his face. My stomach dips a little because that look spells trouble for me. That look tells me that Hudson has already tattled.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Ry?" His voice is deadly quiet, which is always worse than when he yells.
I shrug, trying for nonchalance as I secure the towel better around my head. "What?"
His jaw ticks. "Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you." He pushes off the doorframe, stalking into the bathroom. "Five men in an alley? Stealing some random dancer's motorcycle? A knife to your throat?"
I roll my eyes. "I had it under control."
"Under control?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You call that under control? You could have died, Rylan."
"But I didn't," I counter, trying to step around him.
He blocks my path, his large frame filling the doorway. "That's not the point and you know it."
"Then what is the point, Rev?" I snap, frustration bubbling up. "That I should sit here and be a good little girl while you and Kai handle everything? That I should let Hudson babysit me like I'm some helpless princess?"
His eyes flash dangerously. "The point is that you were reckless. The point is that there are people in this city who want us dead, and you're making it fucking easy for them."
"I killed four of them," I remind him, chin tilting up defiantly.
"And the fifth almost killed you," he growls.
We stand there, tension crackling between us like a live wire. Finally, he shakes his head, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "We'll talk about this later."
Before I can respond, he turns and stalks out, leaving me alone in the bathroom. I rip the towel from my head, throwing it against the counter in frustration. Fucking Hudson. He didn't waste any time running to Rev with the story, did he?
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing inside me. I examine the cut in the mirror. It's not deep, just a thin line that's already stopped bleeding. It'll heal without a scar—not that I care about one more mark on my body.
The dye has worked its magic, and I run my fingers through my still-damp hair, admiring the color.
It's a rich teal, vibrant and bold, exactly like the color of the Devil's Playground sign.
I style it quickly, letting it fall in loose waves around my shoulders.
The effect is striking against my pale skin, making my blue eyes pop even more.
I dress quickly in tight black jeans and a low-cut top that shows just enough skin to be distracting but not enough to be vulgar. Power isn't always about showing force—sometimes it's about commanding attention.
When I finally emerge from the bathroom, I can hear raised voices from the living room. I follow the sound, finding Rev and Kai facing off with Hudson, who stands with his back straight and expression neutral despite the twins' obvious anger.
"—could have called for backup," Kai is saying, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.
"She was gone before I could stop her," Hudson replies, his tone measured. "By the time I tracked her down, she'd already engaged."
"That's your fucking job," Rev snaps. "To stop her from doing stupid shit like this."
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "You know I'm standing right here, right? Maybe stop talking about me now that I’m in the room."
Three pairs of eyes snap to me, and I can't help the smirk that forms on my lips at their reactions.
Kai's eyes widen slightly before his expression shifts to appreciation.
Rev's scowl deepens, though I catch the flicker of heat in his gaze.
But it's Hudson's reaction that interests me most—the slight parting of his lips, the way his eyes darken as they take in my new hair color.
"Well, don't you all look cozy," I drawl, pushing off the wall and sauntering into the room. "Having a nice chat about the troublesome little woman in your lives?"
Kai's lips twitch, fighting a smile despite his anger. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Part of my charm," I reply, dropping onto the couch and stretching my legs out.
Rev hasn't moved, his eyes still locked on me. "This isn't a joke, Ry."
I sigh, some of my bravado fading. "I know it's not. But I'm fine. We're all fine. And now we know there are people bold enough to attack in broad daylight."
"That's not comforting," Kai mutters.
The elevator dings, cutting off whatever Rev was about to say. We all tense, hands moving toward weapons automatically, but relax when we see Camden step out—pushing a familiar figure before him.
My eyebrows shoot up. It's the dancer from the club, looking considerably less confident than he did this morning. His copper-blonde hair is disheveled, and there's a bruise forming on his cheekbone.
Camden is one of Hudson's most trusted men and probably the closest thing I have to a friend outside of my inner circle—he still isn’t trusted to know who is really in charge though.
Right now he has the dancer's arm twisted behind his back.
Despite being in his mid-thirties, Camden moves with the agility of someone much younger.
His face is all sharp angles and perpetual amusement, like everything in life is a private joke only he understands.
We bonded over our shared appreciation for dark humor and our ability to find the absurdity in the most fucked-up situations.
He's one of the few people who doesn't treat me like I'm made of glass, and for that alone, he became my friend.
"Special delivery," Camden announces, his lips quirked in that perpetual half-smile. "Stella over at the Playground rang to say he was going to the cops to report his stolen bike. Thought you might want to have a word."
The dancer's eyes widen when they land on me, a mixture of fear and resignation crossing his features.
Rev's attention shifts immediately, his predatory instincts kicking in as he stalks toward the newcomer. "So you're the one who let her steal your bike."
The dancer swallows hard. "I didn't exactly let her—"
"Shut up," Kai cuts in, moving to flank his brother. "You think we're stupid? You just happened to be there, just happened to leave your keys where she could take them?"
"I didn't—"
"Who do you work for?" Rev demands, getting right in the dancer's face.
The dancer's eyes dart around the room, looking for an escape that doesn't exist. "I don't work for anyone except the club. I'm just a performer."
Kai scoffs, pulling a gun from the waistband of his jeans and pressing it to the dancer's temple. "Try again. Who sent you?"
The dancer goes rigid, his breathing shallow. "My name is Oliver Hart. I'm from Portland originally. I moved here six months ago for the job at the club. I swear to God, that's all there is to it."
"Bullshit," Rev snarls. "The timing's too convenient. Fifth Street burns, and suddenly you're there, offering her a ride out?"
Oliver's eyes widen. "Fifth Street? I don't know anything about that. I was just taking a smoke break!"
I watch the exchange, the fear in Oliver's eyes seems genuine. While I'm no stranger to violence, something about this feels wrong.
"Camden," I say, my voice cutting through the tension. "Give us the room."
Camden raises an eyebrow at me, and I have to force myself to remember he doesn’t know the truth. He looks to Hudson, who gives a short nod.
"You heard her," Hudson says. "Out."
Camden releases Oliver with a shove, shaking his head as he heads back toward the elevator. Disgust flickers across his face before the doors close.
As soon as he's gone, I stand up, moving between Oliver and the twins. "You can't kill him."
Rev's eyes narrow. "And why the hell not?"
"Because he's not involved," I say firmly. "I stole his bike because I was pissed off and wanted to make a point. He didn't offer it to me."
"You don't know that he's not involved," Kai argues, gun still trained on Oliver's head.
I roll my eyes. "What I know is that if he was sent to kill me or lure me into a trap, he did a piss-poor job of it. Besides, I'm the one who approached him, not the other way around."
Oliver's eyes are fixed on me, a mixture of gratitude and wariness in his gaze.
"Put the gun down, Kai," I say, my tone brooking no argument.
For a moment, I think he might refuse, but then he lowers the weapon, though he doesn't holster it.
"You don’t know he’s not involved," Kai shoots back. "Hell, I say we cut him up and bleed him a bit just for being prettier than me."
Oliver’s head snaps to Kai, wide-eyed, frozen like a deer staring at the wrong set of headlights.
Something twists in me at the look. Fear, yes. But, I see it. A flicker in Oliver’s gaze. Not terror. Something sharper. Hungrier.
Interesting.
Rev is still glaring at Oliver. "If I find out you're lying, I'll peel your skin off inch by inch," he growls, his voice dropping to that dark register that makes even me shiver.
He leans in closer, blade suddenly in his hand, the tip pressing just beneath Oliver's eye.
"See if there's anything worth keeping underneath. "
I watch Oliver's reaction carefully. There it is again—that barely perceptible shiver that has nothing to do with fear. His pupils dilate, his breathing quickens, but not in the way of someone terrified. It's... anticipation. Desire, even.
Rev sees it too. His eyes narrow further, and he drags the blade down Oliver's cheek, not cutting, just threatening. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Feel the bite of my knife?"
Oliver's lips part, his tongue darting out to wet them. "No," he whispers, but his body betrays him. His eyes follow the knife with fascination, not terror.
"Liar," Kai hisses, circling behind him. "I can see it in your eyes. You're just begging for us to make you bleed."