37. Bindi
THIRTY-SEVEN
BINDI
What the fuck am I even doing here? I just let him use me up against a fucking sports bike that doesn’t even belong to us.
Jesus fucking Christ, Bindi. You’re so far gone you don’t even know which way’s up.
“Us, huh? And what do you think we are?”
“Twin flames.”
I snort, rolling my eyes so hard it hurts. “That’s a cute way of saying we’re both fucked in the head.”
He steps in, close enough that I can smell my own sweat on his skin. “Doesn’t change the fact that you wear my name. That you fucking love me, just as much as I love you.”
I choke down the lump in my throat, voice flat as concrete. “What you feel? That’s not love, that’s obsession.”
He just shrugs, then steps back. We both stand, untangling ourselves from the aftermath, pretending like we didn’t just break every rule of decency on the side of some forgotten highway.
My legs shake, grass sticks to my ass, and there’s dirt everywhere.
I’m damp, not just between my thighs. It’s in my hair, under my nails, all over me.
I tug my jeans up and try to look like I haven’t just been fucked stupid.
“Don’t see the difference.”
“You wouldn’t.” My laugh’s bitter.
He catches my jaw, dragging my gaze back up to his. “You act like obsession’s a bad thing. Like you don’t get off on it too.”
I shut my eyes, wishing this nightmare would finally swallow me whole. Maybe if I’m lucky, Cassidy’ll fade back into whatever hell my brain cooked him up from. “I don’t even know what I crave anymore . . .”
“Liar.” His grip tightens, forcing my eyes open. Those gray eyes slice right through me. “You crave the same shit I do—fire, violence, control. You liked being fucked where anyone can see. You fucking loved it. You love being used by me. You need it.”
I want to argue, but nothing comes out. He’s right and I hate it—hate how badly I want another hit, another fix of this poison.
He leans in, forehead pressed to mine, breath hot and vicious. “We don’t get soft love, Binx—not us. We get war. We get fire. We get what we fucking take .”
“And if I don’t want that forever?”
“Then walk. But I’ll find you. I don’t give a fuck if it takes fire, blood, or every last breath I’ve got.
I’ll tear through whatever’s in the way, you hear me?
Every universe, every timeline, every version of this fucked-up life .
. . you still belong to me.” His lips ghost over mine.
“Set me on fire if you want. Burn me down to the bones—that’s how far gone I am.
” He exhales. “Please . . . Just don’t look at me like I’m something you need to learn how to unlove. ”
What the hell am I supposed to say to that?
We just stand there, locked in this sick standoff, nothing but wind and road dust and a cliff at our feet. Eventually, Cassidy chucks a rock out over the edge. The silence gnaws at me. I’m the one who breaks it, because someone fucking has to.
“So . . . where to now?”
He barely glances at me. “North.”
“Why?”
“Cause the house is about three hundred miles north—Mark Twain National Forest. We got shit to do.”
He swings a leg over the bike, and tosses the helmet at me. “C’mon, Firefly. Ride or die.”
“Will dying be quick?”
“Get on the fucking bike.” He deadpans
I climb on behind him, arms around his waist, holding tight even though I know I should let go. He glances back, eyes bright with madness. “Hey, guess what?”
“What?”
He slams the visor on my helmet—hard. I lurch, pissed, and headbutt him right in the back of his helmet.
“Asshole.”
THUD
Something rattles, hard.
I jolt up, half awake, confusion fogging my dreamy state. What the fuck was that? Cassidy stirs, his hands reaching for me. We ended up at a hotel last night and both of us almost immediately showered and fell right to sleep in each other’s arms, exhausted from the past two days.
There’s another thud and I realize it’s coming from the window.
Someone’s pounding on the windo w
Cassidy reacts instantly, hopping off the bed, pulling out the pistol from his jacket, and motioning me to lie down.
I snatch my own gun off the nightstand and slip off the bed, moving toward the window as quietly as I can.
He presses himself to the wall just beside the window, gun raised, and jerks his chin for me to stay back.
The pounding comes again—three, four hits against the glass. My mouth is dry, fingers tense on the trigger.
Cassidy grabs the edge of the curtain and peeks through the narrow opening. A muffled voice hisses through the glass, “Bindi! Bindi! It’s me! Let me in.”
My stomach flips. That voice . . . fuck . . . I know that voice. “Jordyn?” I whisper-shout.
“Jordyn?” Cassidy echos.
I nod. “Yes. Let him in.” If Jordyn’s here, that’s not a good thing.
I unlock the door and yank it open a few inches.
Jordyn practically falls through, wild eyed and panting.
His dark twists of hair hang damp against his forehead, and his brown skin gleams as his chest is desperate for breath.
“Bindi—” He grabs my shoulders. “You have to get out, he’s—he?—”
CRACK!
The night explodes.
Jordyn’s body jerks against mine, and for a heartbeat, the whole world goes quiet. The only thing I hear is the roar inside my own skull. Jordyn’s wide eyes lock on mine and then, he’s collapsing, his weight slumping in my arms.
“No!” I scream as I try to catch him the best I can. Hot, wet blood sprays across my arm and chest. Another bullet whizzes past, shattering the doorframe inches from Cassidy’s head.
“Shit!” Cassidy snarls. He grabs the front of Jordyn’s shirt and heaves both of us backward, the two of us tumbling across the floor as Cassidy slams the door shut.
Next, a barrage of gunshots blast through the flimsy motel door, punching holes into the metal. I drag Jordyn across the carpet as plaster dust rains down above us. He’s groaning—which is a good sign of life—clutching his left shoulder, blood welling between his fingers. Fuck. Fuck.
“Oh my God! hold on!” I flatten both of us behind the bed, pushing him down as low as he can go. The lamp on the table suddenly crashes to the floor as Cassidy runs into it by accident, trying to avoid the glass shattered from the window being shot into.
“Stay down!” he barks. His silhouette is crouched by the window, and he pops up just long enough to fire off two quick shots.
Someone outside returns fire. Three, four bullets thud into the walls, one shattering the mirror above the dresser.
I huddle over Jordyn as I pull the sheets off the bed and use it as a makeshift tourniquet.
He cries out through gritted teeth as I tie the knot as tight as I can.
“B-Bin . . .” he chokes out. “It’s him. Anthony. He found you.”
“No fucking shit, random-guy-my-girl-likes. Why the fuck were you so late with your warning?” Cassidy shouts.
“Cass!” I snap back at him.
Outside, a voice roars, “BINDI! You can’t hide, my love!”
A cold, vomit-inducing dread slithers up my spine as I roll my eyes.
Jordyn’s fingers tug weakly at my arm, trying to bring me back down to him. “I tried . . . to hold them off. I thought we would . . .” He winces. “Have more time . . .”
Before I can answer, another hail of bullets rips into the door, tearing it to splinters. Stuffing flies from the headboard as one round punches through a pillow inches from Jordyn’s head. I wrap myself over him, shielding him with my body.
Cassidy answers with a few shots of his own, and somewhere outside I hear a man scream—one of Anthony’s goons down, maybe. The gunfire pauses for a half-second.
“Bin . . . behind you,” Jordyn rasps suddenly, eyes huge.
I whirl around just in time to see the adjoining room door explode open, a dark figure barreling around. Shit. I barely have time to fling my arm up before a heavy weight is driving into my back, air blasting from my lungs as I hit the floorboards. Above me, is the devil reincarnate.
Anthony Santoro
He runs a hand through his greased hair before he leans down, his gold chain dangling inches from my face. “Found you,” he croons.
Then he grabs a brutal fistful of my hair and yanks me upright by my scalp. I wince at the pain but follow the pull.
“Get your filthy fucking hands off her!” Cassidy snarls.
Anthony snorts. “Ohhh . . . Are you her little hero now?” he taunts, jerking me tighter against him, his nose brushing my temple. “Hey, baby . . . miss me?”
“Fuck. You,” I say through gritted teeth.
He looks down past me, at Jordyn, who is basically out of commission. “I should kill you,” Anthony muses lazily. “But it’d make my cousin really mad to lose one of his favorites. I’ll let him handle your traitorous little offense to the family.”
Jordyn just scoffs.
Cassidy lunges.
He tries to land a punch, but Anthony shifts, yanking me hard enough that I stumble between them.
“Cassidy Reyes. Deadman’s MC didn’t patch you in for nothing.
They patch murderers, monsters. You killed the man who fed you, clothed you.
What was it, Cassidy? Was he getting in your way?
Or was he touching her first and you couldn’t stand the competition?
Tell me all about that gilded moral code of yours. ”
Cassidy roars back at him, blood frothing on his lips. “I said, get off her!” he snarls, shoving Anthony’s chest. His hands ball into fists.
Anthony laughs, staggering a step back, but it’s all a show. Grinning wide, he yanks me in front of him like a human shield, arm snapping around my throat before the muzzle of his gun presses into my side.
“You think he’s any different from me?” Anthony sneers, mouth hot against my ear. “He’s been fucking you in his head since you were a kid, princess. At least I never hid my . . .” He breathes in my scent and my stomach flips. “Intentions . . .”
I thrash instinctively, but his grip tightens.
I see Cassidy, unsure of what to do, blood leaking down a cut on his forehead.
Something inside me breaks. It’s a violent, splintering shatter inside of me.