Chapter 25 #2
I lean back in my chair. “It’ll take a while to go away. She used the most annoying kind.”
He chuckles, shakes his head lightly. “She won’t stop at the glitter. You know that, right? She already roped some of the brothers into helping her. They jumped at the chance to finally take the piss out of you without consequences. She might be their favorite person right now.”
I sigh and roll my shoulder. “I can imagine Mindfuck was rubbing his hands in glee. Was Pyro the one who made the glitter bomb?”
He shrugs, eyebrows lifting. “I can only assume. I’m outta the loop thanks to our connection. Temper told me to keep my nose out of it. All I caught were scraps. Apparently, Adora’s dead set on teaching you some kind of lesson.”
“Hmmm.” I drum my fingers on the desk. “Why are you really here, Bones?”
He groans and throws his head back against the chair. “Mama sent me. You had therapy Friday, but you didn’t tell her how it went.”
I suck my teeth. “It went… good. Too good, actually.” I pause. “I’m not going back.”
He straightens, brows pulling tight. “Why the fuck not?”
I throw him an are you an idiot? look.
“Bones,” I say slowly, “that doc is way too good at her job. She sees things. Things that should never be seen. She’ll want to dig up all the metaphorical dead bodies I’m hiding. The problem? I’ve got real dead bodies. I can’t afford the risk. Hell, the club can’t afford it.”
He glares at me. “You’re running from it. Again,” he snaps.
I sigh, and close my eyes. Try to find a way to explain it.
Before I can speak, he slams his fist on the desk. My eyes snap open.
“You’ll go back,” he says, voice final. “You telling me you’d run your damn mouth and start spilling club secrets? Don’t bullshit me, Dom. That woman might be good, but you’re not fucking stupid.”
He leans back, arms crossing. “Temper wants me to go to her, too. What? You think I’m gonna start snitching about all the shit we do here?”
“You’ll go to therapy?” I ask, baffled.
He shrugs. Casual. “Temper wants it. I’ll do whatever the fuck she wants.”
He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Adora would want you to do this too. You owe it to her. And you especially need to do it if you ever want another chance with her.”
My breath catches. Silence stretches between us. My mind spins with the weight of that possibility.
“You think I still have a chance?” I finally ask, heart stuck in my throat.
He groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Temper took me back, Dom. And she fucking hated me when I came for her. Really hated me. It’s a miracle she didn’t kill me.”
He locks eyes with me. “Adora still loves you.”
The words are quiet, but they ricochet through my skull like bullets on steel.
I swallow hard. “No, she doesn’t,” I murmur, clinging to whatever’s left of my sanity. “She hates me. And she has every right to.”
I have to believe that. I need to believe she hates me. Because if she doesn’t...
He leans forward, his gaze heavy with understanding. “You’re riddled with guilt, and you don’t see it. She’s hurt. Deeply. But she still fucking loves you.”
He stands, jabs a finger at me. “Keep going to therapy. It’ll help you win her back.”
His stupid manipulation tactics were always see-through to me, but I don’t call him out on it.
Instead, I raise a brow. “How does Temperance feel about you getting involved in this?”
He sucks in a breath, and glares. “She doesn’t feel anything, because she doesn’t know. And she’s not gonna find out. Right?”
I nod sharply. He nods back. Understood.
Two hours later, I slam my laptop shut and lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. It’s pitch-black — I didn’t bother with the lights — so really, I’m just looking at nothing.
I’ve been fighting with my own thoughts ever since Bones left. The urge to go after Adora is riding me like a motherfucker. I want to go to her. Ask if she still feels it. If she remembers. If there’s any chance we could ever heal together, not apart.
But I’m fucking afraid.
I haven’t felt fear since I was a kid. Not even in prison. There, all I felt was rage. But now? Now I’m scared shitless. Because what if I go to her, and all I do is hurt her again?
Fuck. Everyone’s right. I do need therapy.
This whole train of thought sounds insane, even to me. I signed the divorce papers a few days ago, for fuck’s sake.
I’m snapped out of it when the door suddenly opens. A tiny devil slips in, shuts it quietly, then starts lightly banging her forehead against it.
“I can’t kill him. I can’t kill him. Can I? No. I can’t. But I should,” she mutters fast, forehead still tapping the door.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
She yelps, whirls around, and jumps in place.
“You scared me, Polterbitch!” she snaps, voice an octave too high.
I can barely make out her silhouette as she fumbles for the light switch, breathing fast.
“Right side of the door,” I say, and wait.
When she finally finds it, I reach for the mini fridge beside me and pull out a beer.
“Want one?” I ask, pointing the bottle at her.
“No,” she breathes, still glancing around. “Shit. I didn’t know this was your office. I was just looking for a place to hide.” She rummages through her skirt pockets, pulls out a small bag, and holds it up. “And to light up a joint.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“Okay,” I say slowly, putting the beer back without taking my eyes off her. “There’s no smoking inside my office, Ria.”
“Pffft,” she huffs. “First you’re all about car safety. Now no getting lit? You really are the worst outlaw there is, Polterbitch.”
“I see we’re sticking with that one,” I mutter. I’m not even annoyed by the names anymore. She’s trained me like a fucking dog. “I never said no smoking joints. I said no smoking in my office. The smell lingers. I don’t like it.”
I get up, shove my phone in my pocket, and round the desk.
“I know a place where you can hide,” I say, nodding toward the bag in her hand, then back at her. “As long as you’re willing to share the goods.”
I could really use one right now. Might help me sleep. And I heard Fang say she’s got some strong stuff.
She scrunches her nose, narrows her eyes at me, then rolls them.
“Fine,” she bites out. “I’ll share my bounty. But it’ll cost you. A hundred bucks. Agreed?”
I nod once.
She swings the door open and waves her hand grandly. “Good. Now take me to this place you speak of.”
Less than five minutes later, we’re behind the clubhouse, in my personal hiding spot. Sitting on three wood pallets stacked on top of each other.
She lights her joint, then hands me another one, along with a lighter.
“Holy shit,” I choke out after the first drag.
She smirks, eyes flicking to me. “Good, isn’t it? Smooth like butter.” She pouts. “Should’ve asked you for five hundred.”
“Where the fuck did you get this? There’s no place in town that sells it. You have a dealer or something?” I ask, taking another hit.
“I grow my own, idiot. Plants are my thing. And this”— she lifts the joint in front of her face —“is my greatest creation.”
Well, shit. I’m impressed. “You should sell this stuff. It’s legal here.”
She chuckles, eyes sparkling as she looks my way. “That would be a fucking dream.” Her smile falters. “I have the skills, Polterbitch, but I don’t have the money to invest. Growing to sell? Expensive as fuck.”
“I bet,” I mutter, closing my eyes for a second. Her stuff’s strong. The effects are already hitting.
I glance at her. “Why were you so rattled earlier? What did Tank do?”
Her spine snaps straight. Eyes narrow. “How do you know it’s Tank?”
I roll my eyes, already feeling the urge to laugh. Shit. Is this the giggly kind? Fuck.
“Of course it’s about Tank, Powerpuff,” I say, cracking my neck.
She turns her face away, sniffing sharply. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbles.
“Want me to kill him?” I ask, voice casual. “I can’t really do that, but I can maim him a little for you.”
Her head whips back, eyes wide. “You’d do that? For me? Why?”
I shrug. “You saved Adora’s life. I owe you a marker. Hell, I owe you as many as you want.”
She exhales, stunned. “Fuck, you should’ve told me that sooner. I’ve got a whole list of assholes I’d like to see buried six feet under,” she mutters, a small laugh slipping out, but she cuts it off fast.
Not fast enough. I chuckle. Then she chuckles again. And suddenly, I can’t stop.
“I’ll at least punch Tank for you,” I say, gasping. “Promise.”
“Holy fuck,” she wheezes. “Can you punch Bones, too?”
I’m full-on laughing now. “Sure can, Powerpuff.”
She starts cackling, eyes bright. “Hell yes! Mindfuck too!” she adds, jumping to her feet. “That guy deserves a good punching.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” I choke out between laughs.
“What the fuck did you give me, Powerpuff? I haven’t laughed like this since Bones tripped over a wire, fell flat on his face in front of the whole club, and his pants ripped open.”
But my laughter dies fast. Pain stabs me in the chest.
“Adora was there too,” I whisper, the darkness creeping back in.
Ria groans and throws her head back, staring at the sky. Then she looks at me, serious now.
“You are fucking obsessed, Polterbitch,” she says, voice flat. “In an unhealthy way. You need to—”
She stops. Eyes scan the dark.
I tense too.
“You hear that?” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, already standing.
The sound cuts through the dark again, high-pitched and pitiful. I drop to my knees and turn on the lantern on my phone.
“Ah, shit,” I murmur, reaching under the wood pallet.
When I stand back up, Ria’s watching me with wide eyes.
“Is that—” she whispers.
I glance down at the small ball of black fluff squished against my chest.
“It’s a kitten, Powerpuff,” I say, voice laced with disbelief. “How the fuck did a kitten get all the way here?”
“You’ve clearly been chosen, Polterbitch,” she says, smiling as she strokes the kitten’s head with one finger. “The Cat Distribution System makes no mistakes. Congratulations. You’re owned by a cat now.”