3. Riley
My head is sofuzzy when I wake up that I’m not even sure I am awake, but I already know for sure that I don’t want to be. Not when I feel this groggy, with my mouth dry enough to seriously make me wonder if someone wiped it down with a cotton ball and no memory at all of coming to bed even though I’m definitely lying on the same stupidly comfortable mattress at the Reaper house that I’ve been sleeping on for weeks.
I crack my eyes open. The room is dark enough that it must be the middle of the night, and I’m tempted to just close them again and get some more sleep. I clearly need it.
But I can’t. Something important is nagging at the back of my mind. It’s… Chloe.
I smile as soon as I remember, my heart instantly lighter despite how rough my body feels.
We actually did it. We got my sister back.
Is that why I feel so horrible right now?
Were we drinking last night to celebrate finally getting her away from West Point?
For some reason, my memory is somewhere between hazy and non-existent, but that seems the most likely answer. But then I realize I must have celebrated with more than just a few drinks. I’m deliciously sore between my legs, and underneath the cotton mouth, I can taste—
Maddoc.
Jumbled memories of last night start to surface despite how groggy I’m feeling, and warm satisfaction pools inside me. I knew there was something between us, and now I know Maddoc feels it too.
I remember him kissing me like he was starving for it. Eating me out until I screamed for him. And fucking me… fucking me…
While I was crying?
I blink, confusion flooding through me as I try to make sense of the blurry memories. Even when I hated him, I felt this crazy pull to him right from the start, and I definitely remember how fucking good it was once we both finally acted on it last night.
Don’t I?
But no. It wasn’t good. It was—
“Oh god,” I rasp, my mind finally clearing enough for me to remember.
And then immediately wish I hadn’t.
I shake my head in denial, my throat as dry as sandpaper and my chest tightening painfully as I squeeze my eyes closed. Childishly, a part of me just wants it to go away. To fall back into that fuzzy state I woke up in, where reality didn’t fucking suck so hard.
That’s not how life works, though.
It always fucking sucks.
And now that my memories are surging back, I don’t have time to wallow in hurt feelings or give in to rage over the Reapers’ betrayal. I just need to get away. I need to get to Chloe.
I jerk upright, my heart suddenly pounding when I realize I don’t actually remember everything from last night, because I don’t remember how the fuck I got in here.
Pain flares in my wrists and my body slams back down onto the bed before I make it upright, and I twist around to stare up at my outstretched arms in disbelief.
“Fucking fuck,” I grit out, rage and terror flooding through me in equal measure when I realize I’m handcuffed to the bed.
I shot Maddoc.
Dante took his side.
And then I ran into Logan…
I swallow a sob and yank against the cuffs, desperation fueling me as the cold metal bites into my flesh. Logan, that fucker, must have drugged me.
I ignore the pain and fight against the cuffs even harder. Chloe’s out there alone. At least she has my cell phone and the envelope of cash I stole back from Maddoc’s office, but that’s cold comfort given that there’s nowhere in Halston safe for her to go right now. Not when the entire city is crawling with gang members, most of whom are either loyal to lying assholes like Maddoc, or to sadistic fuckers like West Point’s sorry excuse for a leader.
My eyes sting with a hot rush of tears, but I blink them away before they can fall. There’s no time for that shit. I honestly don’t know which would be worse, having one of the Reapers spot Chloe and return her to Maddoc so he can use her for I still don’t know what, or Austin McKenna realizing she’s still alive… and then wondering why.
Fuck, even I don’t know why.
I still don’t know what the hell the Reapers saved her from West Point for, since it sure as shit wasn’t for me.
“Goddammit,” I curse through gritted teeth, welcoming the pain as I keep struggling against the handcuffs. Thinking about the shit storm I might have sent my sister out into hurts a hell of a lot worse.
I pull against them hard enough that it feels like my thumbs are about to rip off. Twist and yank with all my might, knowing I’m shredding my skin and not caring at all.
I can’t let anything else happen to Chloe. That”s all that matters. I’ve got to find her before anyone else does.
I jerk against the unyielding restraints with another violent curse, and Dante’s low drawl rolls out of the darkness, making me freeze like a cornered rabbit.
I thought I was alone.
“Don’t bother, princess,” he says. “Not the first time I’ve had to restrain someone with cuffs, and no one’s ever managed to slip out yet. Since I don’t plan on having that record broken tonight, all you’re gonna manage to do is hurt yourself.”
“As if you fucking care,” I spit out viciously, twisting toward his voice and finding nothing but darkness.
But my eyes start to adjust, and after a second, I can just make out the shape of him, a darker shadow wreathed in black, sprawled out on a chair by the wall with his legs kicked out into a patch of moonlight that’s spearing through the window.
I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to. I already know him well enough to picture him perfectly.
Those intense green eyes of his will be hooded and ever so slightly amused, beefy arms crossed in front of his chest and a lazy smile on his firm lips as he watches me like I’m fucking entertainment.
Which, I realize all at once, must be exactly what I am to him. What I’ve been this whole time.
Hurt flares in my chest, so bold and bright that I gasp when it hits me, as if it’s physical pain.
Then I lock that shit down and glare at him.
He’s not fucking worth it.
No man is, not when every last one of them only wants to use me.
It’s a lesson I thought I’d already learned, but apparently not. I damn well won’t ever let myself forget it again, though.
“Get these handcuffs off me,” I hiss, glaring at him. “Let me fucking go, Dante.”
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and bringing his face out of the shadows, into the silvery moonlight.
The sight hits me like a punch in the gut. Not just because of how handsome he is, but because he still has the balls to look at me like he fucking cares.
“You know that’s not gonna happen,” he says gently, the words driving home the truth.
He doesn’t care, and he never did. He’s just damn good at faking it.
“Thanks for proving that nothing between us was real,” I spit out before I can stop myself, immediately hating that I showed him any vulnerability.
Ever, but especially now, about us.
“That’s not true,” he says, frowning at me.
“Of course it fucking is,” I scoff. “If you and I had actually mattered, you’d never have tied me up like this.”
Something flares in Dante’s eyes when I jerk my wrists against the cuffs again, making them rattle against the headboard.
His lips quirk up in a too fucking familiar smirk. “I mean, I might have,” he says, the teasing tone to his voice making my eyes sting again. “If you’d asked me nicely.”
“I hate you,” I whisper, my throat closing up.
Dante’s face turns serious, and he gets to his feet, crossing over to the bed and smoothing my hair away from my face.
I jerk away from his touch, and he sighs.
“I could say the same, you know. About what was and wasn’t real between us.” He waits a beat, then, “You shot Maddoc. You shot my brother.”
Of course that’s what he cares about.
Of course it’s who he cares about.
A shard of hurt spears me all over again, but I grab on to it hard before it can gut me and twist it into the familiar armor of anger.
“I had a reason to,” I hiss. “All three of you have been lying to me this whole time. You fuckers made me believe in you. You betrayed me.”
Dante doesn’t deny it. His eyes shutter, his normally expressive face closing down.
Closing me out.
“What do you want with my sister?” I demand, choking back the other questions burning in my throat before they can come out.
No way am I asking him how long they’ve been planning whatever it is they want Chloe for. I don’t think I can stand to hear about it if it was all lies from the start, or to find out whether any of those moments of connection between us were actually real.
Not the sex, but all the rest. The shit that made it feel like something more.
“Shooting Madd was a mistake,” Dante says after a minute, not bothering to tell me what I want to know.
Not about Chloe, at least. But not answering me pretty much is an answer, when it comes to all the things I didn’t ask.
“You just made shit a lot harder for yourself,” he goes on. “You know that, right?”
I glare up at him. “You fucking Reapers are the ones making shit hard for me.”
Dante’s lips tighten, then he blows out a harsh breath. “Jesus, princess. You wanna know how many people have pulled a gun on Maddoc and survived to tell about it? Because it’s not a hell of a lot, and the ones who actually pulled the trigger are all six feet under now.”
Dante isn’t threatening me, he’s just stating facts.
Maddoc’s fucking ruthless. I knew that going in.
“Is that why you’re here?” I ask, tilting my chin up to hide the fear that washes through me. “Did he send you to do his dirty work and kill me?”
Dante stares down at me with such intensity that it feels like a physical force.
“I’m Maddoc’s second,” he says, leaning over me and bracing his hands on either side of my body.
I narrow my eyes. I fucking know he is, and I know what it means too.
Of course he handles Maddoc’s dirty work.
But even knowing what he’s trying to tell me, having his big, imposing body loom over me, having him so close, makes me respond. My breath starts to come faster as I react to him in ways I shouldn’t, not now that I know the truth.
But I can’t help it… and I can’t stop it, either.
Heat spreads through me, my body craving his. Like it knows, remembers, that every time he’s ever been this close to me, he’s either made me scream with pleasure or…
Or he’s made me feel safe.
But I’m not, and it’s like a dash of cold water.
I turn my face away, blinking fast as that’s ripped away from me too.
It was one thing to know I’d be leaving him, all of them, once we got Chloe back. That was my choice, and I accepted the loss—accepted that I’d miss Dante, Maddoc, and even Logan, no matter how stupid it was to develop feelings for men like them—because I had to. I had to give Chloe a fresh start.
But this is a different kind of loss. This is being smacked in the face with the truth and realizing that nothing here was ever mine to lose. That none of it was real.
Dante trails his hand over my cheek, then digs his fingers into my hair and grips my skull, forcing me to turn back and meet his gaze.
“I’m Maddoc’s second,” he repeats forcefully, holding me tightly enough that I can’t look away this time. “I’m loyal to him to the grave. I have killed for him, and I’ll do it again. Every time he’s asked me to take someone out, I’ve done it without question. Every time, princess. It’s my skill set. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ll always do for my brothers.”
I know.
I even understand.
Loyalty is Dante’s lifeblood, it’s what the Reapers stand for and it’s what attracted me to him, just as much as the darkness that lives inside him and the light he brings to the surface did. So yes, I get it.
But he didn’t say no.
He didn’t tell me he isn’t here to kill me.
And while I might be moments away from death right now, I’m not sure if it’s knowing that, or how fucking much it hurts to be reminded that he’ll always pick his brothers over me, that has my stomach dipping, my breath coming in short, shallow pants, my eyes squeezing closed in denial again.
He may not let me turn, but I’ll be damned if I watch it coming.
Dante’s fingers flex, moving through my hair like a caress. Then he brushes them across my closed eyelids… trails them softly over my cheek… traces my lips ever so lightly before dragging his fingers down to my throat and resting them over my fluttering pulse.
“Look at me, Riley,” he says, and I instinctively obey him and do it. He stares into my eyes with an intensity that has my breath hitching. “I don’t want to kill you. I’ll never want that.”
I swallow hard. I… believe him. Maybe it’s because he used my name instead of calling me “princess,” or maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I do.
And I also know that telling me he doesn’t want to isn’t the same as saying he won’t.
I suck in a ragged breath, my shoulders aching from being pulled above my head for so long and a stinging pressure behind my eyes that makes me feel both weak and angry.
Dante opens his mouth like he’s got more to say, but I shake my head.
He can kill me if he has to, but he doesn’t get to see my tears. He doesn’t deserve them.
“Don’t,” I whisper, turning my face away from him again.
This time, he lets me, and I hate how grateful I am for that. But even if whatever had started to grow between the two of us before all this shit went down actually meant something to him, he’s still planning on helping Maddoc and Logan use my sister for the Reapers’ benefit.
He still lied to me. Betrayed me. Used me to get to her in the first place.
Because, as he just made a point of reminding me, his loyalty lies with Maddoc, and if Maddoc has decided I need to die for putting a bullet in his shoulder tonight…
Well, like Dante said himself, it’s what he does, and there’s no way he would ever pick me over his brothers.
Would he?
I know the answer to that one. And yet, when Dante sighs and straightens up without killing me, when he adjusts my cuffed hands so that my shoulders don’t ache quite as much and then presses a warm kiss to my forehead before silently returning to the chair by the wall… I can’t help but wonder if I’m wrong.
The tears I can’t fight anymore start to slowly leak down my cheeks as I stare into the darkness.
Despite everything, I still want to be wrong.
And that traitorous feeling is probably the biggest betrayal of all.