Chapter 12 #2
Heat licks up my spine. I push past him, pretending my skin isn’t burning, pretending I’m not already imagining what it would feel like if he said that somewhere private—if he backed me into a wall the way Jasper did, if I’d let him. The awful, honest part of me answers yes before I can swallow it.
Riot falls in at my side, grinning like he knows exactly where my head’s at. Maybe he does. Maybe they both do. Jasper feels like a cliff I’m already falling from; Riot feels like learning I can fly on the way down.
He’s still flexing his hand, a little swagger in every movement. The adrenaline’s fading, but something else lingers—hotter, heavier. He glances down at me, lip tugged up at the corner. “Didn’t know that was your type, Hellcat. Didn’t peg you for the ‘watch a guy get violent’ type.”
I try for unimpressed while my pulse blares in my ears. “Don’t get cocky. One punch doesn’t make you impressive.”
He steps closer, breath brushing my ear. “You sure about that? ’Cause you were looking at me like you wanted to climb me right there. Can’t say I blame you, Angel. I’ve seen the way you get when a man makes a scene over you.”
I stop walking, eyes wide. The memory of Jasper’s hands caging me against the bus slams into me so hard my knees feel untrustworthy. I never wanted scenes. I never wanted to be wanted out loud. But here I am, splintering over the way they both do it without shame.
Riot lets it hang, eyes burning into mine. “Saw what happened with Reign at the bus. Everybody did. Hell, I nearly applauded when he put you up against the side like that. You ever gonna let someone do that to you in private, or do you only like it when you’re the main event?”
Heat floods my skin. Riot’s grin stays playful, but there’s a dare under it. Jasper’s dare lives in the promise that I’m already his. Riot’s lives in the promise he’ll earn it. I don’t know which one scares me more.
I toss my hair, aiming for lethal and landing somewhere near breathless. “Keep talking like that and you’ll find out just how much trouble I can be.”
He leans in, mouth near my ear. “That’s the plan, Hellcat. Say the word and I’ll give you a show no one else gets to see.”
He pulls back, gaze trailing over me like he’s memorizing the look on my face. “Guess you’re not the only one who likes to make people stare.”
I keep moving so he doesn’t see how my resolve shakes. The truth hammers anyway: what I feel for Jasper is the kind of strong that rewires bone; what I feel for Riot is the kind of strong that makes blood sing. Either could ruin me. Both already are.
JASPER
I see her the second I step out of the loading bay—Sawyer, weaving through the crowd, camera at her hip, hair shining blue and green under the sun. Too far away.
Then I spot them. Three assholes—beers in hand, red faces, looking at her like she’s a prize and not a fucking person. My vision goes hot. I’m already moving, shouldering through the crowd, ready to break bones, leave teeth on the pavement if I have to.
But someone gets there first. Riot. Always with the reckless, shit-eating grin, sliding between Sawyer and danger like he was made for it. He mouths off—cocky, wild, unafraid. The guys shrink back, start running their mouths, but Riot’s got that look in his eyes. The one that promises pain.
One guy touches Sawyer, and then Riot throws a punch.
Fucking lands it, too—blood sprays, beer hits the ground, and Sawyer stands there, unfazed, watching like she’s seen a thousand bar fights and could start one herself.
For a second, I want to be pissed. At Riot, at her, at myself for not getting there first.
But I can’t look away.
She’s wildfire wrapped in velvet, and it guts me to see someone else shield her from the burn—even for a second.
It should’ve been me. No one else gets to protect her, make her laugh, pull her close.
Not Riot, not anyone. She’s mine, and every second she’s out of my reach feels like losing a piece of myself I’ll never get back.
Riot says something to her—soft, close, too close. She laughs, shoves him, and for a heartbeat, I almost lose it. Jealousy tastes like blood.
Then, out of nowhere, I see Blake pushing through the crowd—eyes wild, jaw clenched, his whole body radiating ill intent.
I take off running, murder in my veins.
SAWYER
Riot keeps me close, a lazy arm slung around my shoulder as we cut through the crowd. I’m still buzzing from what just happened—his punch, his grin, the heat in his eyes. I should be steady, but then I see him.
Blake.
He moves toward us fast, cutting through bodies, eyes locked on mine. His smile is all wrong—teeth too tight, eyes too wild.
My stomach drops. I haven’t texted him back. Haven’t called. Haven’t ended things. Just…avoided. Buried myself in noise and unfamiliar faces, hoping the old ones would fade.
He reaches me first, crowding into my space. Riot tenses, hand on my hip now, a silent warning.
“Hey, babe.” Blake’s voice is all sticky sweetness, the anger just under the surface. “You’ve been ignoring me? I missed you.”
He leans in, brushing a kiss against my cheek like it’s normal, like we aren’t already coming apart at the seams.
I step back. “Sorry, I’ve been…busy. It’s chaos out here.” My voice is thin, even to my own ears.
Blake’s eyes go sharp as he grabs my arm. “Busy, huh? Funny, that’s not what it sounded like last night.” His gaze flicks to Riot, mouth curling. “Who’s this—your new little friend?”
Riot stiffens, all playfulness gone, his hand coming down on Blake’s wrist—hard. “I could ask you the same thing, man. You have a problem?”
Blake glares at him, chest puffing up. “Who the fuck are you? Her bodyguard?”
Riot’s voice is lazy, but there’s a threat underneath. “Call me whatever you want. You need to let go of her.”
The air changes, thickens. Jasper’s there, silent, eyes black and cutting through Blake like he’s not even real. “You want to tell him, Sawyer? Or should I?”
Blake’s eyes flare. “What the fuck is this, Sawyer? You letting these guys pass you around?”
My eyes dart back and forth among all three of them.
Jasper’s voice cuts through, cruel and lethal. “You want to know what you heard last night? That was me. And you’d better get used to it, because she doesn’t belong to you. She never did.”
Blake’s jaw drops, red with rage, but before he can fire back, Riot’s mouth twists into a wicked grin. He leans in, casual and reckless, voice just loud enough for everyone to hear. “And so what if we were passing her around between us? She deserves more than one boring little man, anyway.”
The words hang in the air, filthy and unapologetic. Jasper bristles—eyes on fire, jaw set—like he might take Riot out for even suggesting it.
Jasper’s jaw ticks; the look he throws Riot would turn most people to ash. But Riot just grins wider, like he wants Jasper to come for him. The air between them is thick enough to choke on—violence and need and something almost like a challenge, all twisted together.
Blake turns to me, desperate now. “Really, Sawyer? You’re just gonna let them talk for you?”
Jasper’s voice is pure ice. “She doesn’t owe you shit. And if you touch her again, you’re done.”
Blake sputters, “You’re all fucking insane—Sawyer, you’re not like this. You don’t let people use you—”
Riot snorts, stepping even closer, his body practically shielding me from Blake. “Nobody’s using her, man. She’s right where she wants to be.”
Jasper’s hand finds the small of my back, fingers digging—possessive, lethal. “You don’t get to talk about what she wants. Not anymore. You lost that privilege the second you laid a hand on her. I don’t take from her. I protect her. That’s the difference between us.”
Blake always spoke for me like I was a sentence he could finish. Jasper’s words don’t steal my voice—they clear the room so I can use it. It’s a different kind of gravity, one that asks instead of demands, even when it sounds like a threat.
My heart’s beating hard enough to bruise. I can feel Riot’s heat at my side, Jasper’s certainty at my back, but this part is mine. No one gets to say it for me. No one gets to own the ending.
“It’s over, Blake. I should’ve said it sooner, but I’m saying it now. I’m not yours. I haven’t been for a long time.”
He stares at me, all red-rimmed fury and heartbreak. Riot’s touch is steady on my shoulder, Jasper’s presence an iron wall at my back. For the first time, I feel freedom blooming inside my chest.
Blake’s eyes dart between the two of them, searching for backup, for any sign that he’s not completely outnumbered. But all he finds is Riot’s shit-eating grin and Jasper’s eyes—black and bottomless, fixed on me like I’m the only thing that matters.
Jasper leans in, his voice low against my ear. “You want us to stop, Sawyer? Say the word.”
Riot’s eyes flick to mine as he leans in on my other side, almost teasing. “Tell us, Hellcat. We’ll back off…if that’s what you want.”
My heart hammers. Jasper’s words sink in, and I realize—he’s really not going to stop Riot.
He’s not pulling away, not staking his claim alone.
For a second, I’m stunned. I never thought he’d share anything, least of all, me.
The fact that he lets Riot touch me, here, now, is almost as shocking as Blake’s rage.
It feels dangerous. It feels wicked. It feels… so fucking hot.
Riot’s hand settles low on my hip, thumb drawing lazy circles.
Jasper’s grip tightens at my waist, heat searing through my shirt, making it clear I’m not going anywhere.
It’s like being split in two—caught between their hands, their egos, their eyes.
The way Blake is looking at me should humiliate me.
But all I feel is wild and alive. I want him to see.
I want him to know exactly what he lost.
They’re playing a game, but this time I’m in on it.
I tip my chin up, meeting Blake’s furious gaze dead-on. My voice is steady. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”