Chapter 6
Hudson
I had to get out of there. The sight of her—teal strands framing that face, that goddamn face—made something in my chest tighten until I couldn't breathe.
Teal. My color. On her. I'd handed her the bag myself, played it casual like it meant nothing.
But seeing it now, knowing those vibrant strands were there because of me. .. Christ.
It shouldn't matter. It can't matter. But the twins saw it. They always see everything. And the way they looked at me, like they knew exactly what was happening inside my head—I needed air before I did something stupid.
The Devil’s Lair is already humming when I hit the ground floor.
Staff move like cogs in a machine—bartenders restocking shelves, waitresses adjusting skirts, the DJ testing sound levels so the bass thunders through the floorboards.
Camden’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, eyes tracking the room with the lazy attention of a wolf who’s already decided nothing here is worth the bite.
He notices me immediately, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside me as I cut across the club. No questions, no hesitation—just that familiar half-smirk that says he’s about to run his mouth.
We step out into the sunlight. The noise of the club muffles behind the heavy doors, traded for the low thrum of the city—traffic, sirens, someone yelling two blocks over. Camden flicks a lighter, the flame catching, and soon the sharp bite of cigarette smoke curls into the air between us.
He takes a drag, exhales slow. “You know, Hud, I’ve been trying not to say it, but I’m struggling here.” His tone is casual, but the words are edged. “Why the fuck are you stuck playing nanny to the girl when the twins are the ones who actually matter?”
My jaw tightens, but I don’t answer. I keep walking, boots landing heavily on the sidewalk as we cut toward the SUV.
Camden doesn’t take the hint. He never does.
“Don’t get me wrong, I like her. Funny as hell, good taste in liquor.
I even think of her as a friend. But she’s not the boss.
Rev and Kai are. They’re the ones who keep this city under control.
And here you are, wasting the best talent we’ve got trailing after a woman who doesn’t know how to stay put. ”
He takes another long drag, the cherry tip glowing. “It doesn’t make sense. Not when we’ve got enemies lining up around the block waiting to take a shot at us.”
We reach the SUV. I stop, turn to him. The air between us is thick with smoke and something sharper.
“Orders are orders.” My voice is flat steel.
Camden arches a brow, his smirk tugging wider.
“That all you’ve got? Orders?” He flicks ash onto the concrete.
“Come on, Hud. Off the record. You really think this is smart? That girl is chaos wrapped in pretty skin. One day she’s gonna drag you under with her, and when she does, don’t expect me to say I told you so. ”
I step in close enough that he has to tilt his head back to keep my gaze. “You don’t get to think off the record. You don’t get to question. You follow orders. You keep your mouth shut. And you don’t ever—ever—second-guess where I’m stationed.”
Camden studies me through the smoke, his eyes calculating, that humorless grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. Then he chuckles low and shakes his head, flicking the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out beneath his boot.
“Fine,” he mutters. “Your funeral.”
I don’t respond. I pull open the SUV door and climb in, the leather groaning beneath my weight. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Camden watching me still, his expression unreadable.
The engine rumbles to life under my hands, and for a second, I let myself sit in the growl of it. Camden’s words echo in my skull, but I shut them down with the same ruthless efficiency I use on everything else.
He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to. It’s safer that no one knows who really runs this town.
Protecting Ry will always be my priority. It might even get me killed.
Something had felt off the moment she left my side at the Playground.
I hadn’t even gotten three minutes with the team there before I had to follow her outside.
So, I followed. Slipped through the back entrance just in time to catch sight of the dancer—Oliver—babbling about being innocent.
His hands were up, eyes darting, and for one second I thought maybe he had done something worse.
Then the roar of an engine split the air.
Her.
I hit the lot just in time to see her tear out of the staff carpark, hair flying, as she leaned into the bike like she’d been born with it welded to her body. My stomach dropped like a stone.
Because I knew exactly where she was going.
Fifth Street.
By the time I caught up, adrenaline was a live wire under my skin. I knew I’d be too late to stop her. The only question was whether I’d be too late to save her.
The alley stank of smoke and rot when I rounded the corner, and my worst fear crystallized in front of me: her back pressed against brick, a blade at her throat.
For a heartbeat, my lungs refused to work. The world narrowed to her wide eyes and that thin line of blood already streaking down her neck.
And then the moment snapped. The gun was in my hand before I even registered pulling it. One shot. One body down.
I don’t remember moving, only the weight of the trigger and the sound of my own blood pounding in my ears.
When she turned those laughing, blood-smeared lips on me, purring about how I’d ruined her fun, I felt rage and relief crash together so hard it nearly broke me. Because all I could see was how close I’d been to watching her die.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
She was still laughing, blood dripping down her throat, blades slick with the lives she’d taken. She looked like sin incarnate standing there, hair wild, eyes bright, body thrumming with adrenaline.
And I was torn wide open.
I wanted to throttle her. Pin her against the wall and shake her until her teeth rattled for being so reckless, for making me feel that sick hollow fear in my chest.
I wanted to drag her over my knee, rip that cocky grin off her face with the flat of my hand until she remembered who the fuck kept her alive.
And worse—so much worse—I wanted to give into the madness clawing at me.
I wanted to take her right there, in the blood and bodies, bury myself so deep inside her she forgot every name but mine.
To claim her like she was already mine, to make sure every corpse in that alley was a witness to the truth I didn’t dare speak.
Instead, I clenched my jaw until it ached. My hands shook around the grip of my gun, not from fear but from everything I was holding back. She was dangerous enough already. Me wanting her like this? That was suicidal.
She tilted her head, wiping the blood from her lip, and smiled at me like she knew. Like she could see every twisted thought crawling through my skull.
And maybe she could.