Chapter 18
JASPER
I didn’t mean to overhear it.
I’m heading down the hall to grab my charger from the media room when their voices float out from Sawyer’s door. I don’t linger on purpose, but the second I hear her voice—soft and shaky—my feet stop moving. I’m caught, helpless.
“…I don’t think I’ve ever been wanted like this before. And it scares the hell out of me…”
That does something to me. A twist behind my ribs, cold and hot at the same time. It hurts me in a way I rarely feel towards others. She sounds so small. Sounds like she’s still waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under her.
She doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t stay long. Just long enough to hear her question if she’s a prize or a game to us.
To him.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I turn straight down the hall, fists clenched, boots heavy on the stairs—like I can stomp out the noise in my head.
Riot isn’t in the kitchen. He’s not sprawled across the couch, headphones in, pretending nothing matters.
I find him out back, lit cigarette glowing between his fingers, one boot up on the low stone wall, staring into the dark.
He doesn’t even flinch when I step out.
“Took you longer than I thought, ’boyfriend’,” he mutters, not looking at me.
I fold my arms, jaw tight enough to crack a tooth. “We need to talk.”
“Figured.” He finally turns his head, flicking ash onto the stone. “About Sawyer?”
“I’m not here to throw punches unless you earn them,” I grit out. “But I need to know what the hell it is you’re doing.”
Riot cocks a brow, lazy and sharp all at once. “Doing?”
“She’s not a fucking toy, Riot. She’s not a conquest or a stage to act out whatever warped fantasy you’ve got about taking something that’s mine.”
That gets a reaction. His expression darkens, eyes narrowing, mouth flattening into a line. “She’s not yours, Jasper. Not all the way. You know it. She’s not mine either. But she could be both. You just don’t want to admit it.”
I step forward, voice dropping to a threat. “You don’t know the things she’s been through. It took her a while to even stand in front of people again without flinching. She’s finally believing she’s worth something. I won’t let you take that from her.”
He looks down, exhaling slowly, the cigarette hanging between his fingers like a thought he doesn’t want to finish. For a second, neither of us moves. The air is thick, charged.
“I’m not trying to break her,” he says after a long pause, his voice hoarse. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her. I want all of her, Jasper.”
The words hang between us, dangerous and honest.
“I don’t know what this is turning into,” he adds, voice quieter now, the bravado bleeding out. “But I know I’ve never wanted anything like I want her. And if you think I’m going to back off just because you got there first, you don’t know me at all. She wants me too.”
Every muscle in my body is tense—coiled, ready to snap. I want to hit him. Just once. To take the edge off this boiling thing inside me. But I don’t, for her.
Instead, I stare him down, the porch light casting long shadows, the night air cool and sharp in my lungs. “You want her, fine. But if you fuck with her head—if you touch her heart and leave her bleeding—you’ll answer to me.”
Riot’s grin is sharp, humorless, all edge. “Fair enough.”
We stand there, silent, with the same weakness carved into our chests. The only thing between us is the girl neither of us will let go of.
Neither of us moves.
Not a single word more passes between us.
RIOT
The door clicks shut behind Jasper when he finally leaves me alone, but the pressure he leaves in his wake doesn’t ease. If anything, it clings, thickening the air until it feels like I can’t breathe.
I head lean against the stone wall, arms folded, his words echoing in my head like the reverberation of a cymbal strike.
“She’s not a toy.”
No shit.
My hand rubs the back of my neck, jaw flexing as I stare at my reflection in the fountain below. It’s the kind of stare that peels back all the layers—forces you to look at who you really are beneath the tattoos, the swagger, the legend you’ve built for everyone but yourself.
Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to?
I’m not in this for a pissing contest. I’m not playing games with her, not pretending this is just another story to add to the set list. She’s not a groupie I want to bend over backstage, not a lyric I want to write into a song to forget her later.
Sawyer is… fire. Raw, beautiful fucking fire.
And I’ve been burning for her since the second I saw her.
Jasper’s right about one thing, though—she’s been hurt.
I could see it before he ever said anything. But the edge in his voice tells me it was bad.
She’s been broken before. He’s trying to keep me from being another splinter in her spine.
That would’ve pissed me off—used to—but it just makes me want her more.
He’s not wrong. But he isn’t the only one who sees her.
Laughter filters up from downstairs—Ash, probably. Macee’s voice follows, lighter, brighter, slicing through the gloom.
Sawyer.
I don’t move for a beat. My fingers drum restlessly against my leg. Then I push off the wall and head inside, letting the weight of everything slide off my shoulders with a deep, shaking breath.
“You’re not the only one who’d bleed for her, Reign,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re just the one who got there first.”
I should be mad. I should want to throw something, punch a wall, shout until I shake the house.
Jasper stormed up on me like I’m some kid sniffing around something that doesn’t belong to me. Like I don’t know exactly what I want—like Sawyer’s a phase. A distraction.
But I’m not mad.
Especially not when she steps into the hallway just minutes later—barefoot, hair a mess, looking like temptation, vulnerability, and hope wrapped in an oversized tee. Her gaze flicks toward me, startled, like maybe she didn’t expect to find me here.
But, fuck, I was waiting for her.
“Hey,” I say. My hands are loose at my sides, but inside I’m coiled tight as a wire.
“Hey,” she echoes, biting the inside of her lip, eyes flickering down and then back up.
I gesture toward the den just off the hallway, shadows pooling in the corners. She hesitates, just a breath, then slips past me—her shoulder brushing my chest, sending sparks skittering through my whole body.
The second the door clicks shut behind us, it’s just us. The silence is loaded, every heartbeat magnified.
I don’t crowd her, and neither of us says anything. I let the silence stretch, watching her fingers grip her oversized shirt, the way her chest rises and falls—nervous.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, but I see her swallow. “You?”
A half-smirk tugs at my mouth. “Got pulled into a brotherly warning session. Apparently, I’m not allowed to break your heart.”
Her brow furrows, eyes wide. “Jasper talked to you?”
“Like a dad whose daughter just started dating the guy with a rap sheet and a Harley.”
Her mouth drops open, then quirks at the edges. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I take a step closer to her. “He’s not wrong to be protective. You matter to him.” I pause, letting the words hang. “To me.”
That does something to her—a crack, a flicker in her eyes like something fragile just gave way. She looks down, but I reach out, fingers gentle as I guide her chin up, thumb brushing the corner of her jaw.
“I’m not trying to be a problem,” I murmur. “But I will not disappear just because someone else got there first. Not unless you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to disappear,” she whispers, barely more than a breath.
I lean in, press a kiss to her cheek, her jaw, then the soft skin behind her ear—the spot that makes her shiver, even now. But I don’t push more than that.
I give her just enough to have her thinking of me later.
When I pull back, her eyes are closed, like she’s holding onto the feeling, the moment, the space between us that no one else gets.
I press one more kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, Hellcat.”
I leave before I change my mind, every nerve in my body still singing with everything I haven’t said.
SAWYER
By the time I close my door, I’m not even sure which one of them I’m thinking about.
Riot’s hands. Jasper’s words. They both look at me like I’m something worth wanting. Worth keeping. The ache in my chest feels like it’s alive, curling up against my ribs, filling every space with questions I don’t know how to answer.
I don’t know how to hold it all.
I take my time changing—peeling off my jeans, reaching for one of Jasper’s shirts I swiped from the laundry. Half because it’s soft, and half because it still smells like him. Warm, faintly spicy, and a bit like smoke. It doesn’t help the confusion, but it eases the ache. Just a little.
I climb into bed with one of my paperbacks—the one I’ve been half-embarrassed to read in front of anyone. Dark romance. Masked man. Dangerous, twisted devotion. I lose myself in it for a while, letting the tension curl low in my stomach.
I’m brushing my teeth when I hear a soft knock. Gentle at first, then again, a little firmer. I pause, toothbrush still wedged between my lips, my heart stuttering.
I crack the door open.
Jasper is standing there, barefoot, hair a mess like he’s been running his hands through it all night. He looks more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him.
He leans one shoulder on the doorframe. “Didn’t mean to bug you. Just… wanted to say goodnight. And that my room’s open. If you want company.”
He doesn’t sound expectant. Just warm and slightly protective.
I shake my head, rinse quickly, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. “Thank you. I just… I think I need to be alone tonight. Clear my head.”
His eyes flick past me, and I realize too late the book is still on my bed—face down but unmistakable. His grin curls when he notices the cover.
“That’s the thing you read before bed, Little Sin?” His voice dips, teasing, dripping with sinful amusement. “Masked man wrecking his girl? You know I could make that real for you.”