32. Riley
It’slate and I’m exhausted, but I stare up at the ceiling of my bedroom in the dark, unable to close my eyes without seeing the horrifying pictures my mind keeps supplying. Dante in a body bag. Dante with a bullet hole in his head. Dante—
I shut the images down. I can’t let the worry I’m feeling eat me up inside. I love him, but the only way to survive this world is to be harder and tougher than anything it throws at me.
That doesn’t mean I manage to stop thinking about him, though.
He hasn’t checked in yet, and we all knew he might not. We talked about it. I know he has to be super careful about keeping up his lie and pretending to be on Austin’s side.
But what if Austin saw right through it from the start?
What if Dante never even made it that far? What if he got taken out the minute he crossed into West Point’s territory?
“Riley, don’t.”
I jackknife up in the bed, my heart pounding at the sound of Maddoc’s voice. I’ve done a decent job of keeping my emotions in check since Dante walked out the door, but something about Maddoc’s gravelly tone and the way he used my actual name instead of one of his usual endearments breaks something open inside of me.
“Don’t what?”
It’s a reflexive question. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there, leaning in my doorway, nothing more than a silhouette backlit by the light out in the hallway, but I’m sure he can read every worry I have on my face.
I’m sure he has his own too.
But it’s not concern over Dante that makes my stomach twist into an even tighter knot when I look at him. Even in the dim lighting, the bandage on his hand is obvious.
And what it covers is… horrible.
There’s no denying that shit has gotten serious now. That this situation is dangerous to everyone who matters to me. I guess it always has been, but now it feels like we’re all standing at the edge of a cliff, looking into an abyss of darkness, one slip away from total ruin.
“Don’t do this to yourself,” he says, finally pushing off the doorjamb and coming closer. “Don’t torture yourself with what ifs.”
“I’m not,” I lie quickly, wanting to be strong for him when he’s given so much. “I’m fine.”
He comes close enough that the light from the moon, shining in through my window, finally lets me make out his face. He smiles. “I know you too fucking well to believe that, butterfly. Don’t ever lie to me.”
Despite everything, the pain he must be in and the weight he’s carrying on his own shoulders already, he says it tenderly, and it breaks through the tissue-thin barrier I put up between us, tearing down a wall that I never wanted to be there in the first place.
“I’m worried about Dante,” I admit quietly.
He nods, taking a seat on the edge of my mattress and tipping my face up with his good hand. “He’s smart, butterfly.”
“I know,” I whisper, a deep, soul-twisting agitation inside me despite the truth of what Maddoc said.
He stares into my eyes like he can see it there. “Dante is one of the strongest men I know,” he finally says. “Physically and mentally. He’s capable of just about anything, and he was raised as an assassin by his father, so he’s deadly as fuck too.”
“I know,” I repeat, twisting my nightshirt in my hands. “I don’t know why I’m being such a fucking…”
I make a vague, frustrated gesture, not even having words for what I’m feeling.
I believe in Dante. I know he’s capable of pulling this off, but I also know that some shit will always be out of our hands, and I’ve had a whole lifetime of learning how to roll with the fallout of an unfair world that doesn’t care about the things that matter most to me.
But the silence from him, not fucking knowing, all the worst-case scenarios that fill my head…
“I know he can handle Austin,” I whisper, willing myself to believe it.
“He can,” Maddoc says. “And you may ‘know’ that, but you don’t know. You haven’t seen him in action the way I have, not outside of taking that fucker down in the kitchen today. You’ve seen him be sweet with you. Playful. But you haven’t seen him deadly and ruthless, and believe me—trust me—that’s part of who he is too.”
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as some of the worry twisting my stomach into knots starts to slowly unwind.
“Do you know how he first came here?” Maddoc asks, twining our hands together and raising them up. He kisses my knuckles, his face serious as he watches mine for my response.
“To the Reapers?”
He nods.
“Yes,” I say a little cautiously, not entirely sure how Maddoc feels about the fact that Dante was able to fool him so thoroughly, even though he chose to join him instead of betray him in the end. “He told me about the Crimson Crows.”
Maddoc smiles, and I realize that that’s not true. I do know how he feels. I see it in his face right now, and I’ve seen it every single day since I arrived, in the bond of brotherhood the two of them share.
“Then believe me when I tell you that he’s good at this kind of thing,” he says, squeezing my hand. “I don’t trust easily, and I’m a damn good judge of character. I’d like to think that that’s why I let Dante get so close, because I saw his true character under the bullshit he was selling when he first arrived, but the truth is, it wasn’t that. Not at first.”
“Why did you decide to trust him when he first showed up?”
Maddoc shakes his head ruefully. “I don’t know if ‘decide’ is really the right word. You gotta understand, he didn’t just come here playing a role to infiltrate us. He…” Maddoc stares into the distance for a minute, then huffs out a breath. “Fuck, butterfly. I’m not even sure how to explain it, and I was right there living it. But it’s like he can completely put himself aside. His true self, I mean. He doesn’t just play a role, he fucking becomes it. And he reads people so damn well that whatever he becomes is exactly what they most want to see.”
I take that in and sit with it for a minute, and yeah, I can see it. Dante’s always been able to read me like a book, and for all that he and I share a connection—something special and unique—I know that the way he gets me isn’t only because of that. It’s also part of his own special skillset.
“How did he ever earn your trust for real?”
Maddoc grins, sudden and fierce, a bright flash of white teeth in the moonlight. “By telling me he’d been lying. Once he stopped doing that, he wasn’t giving me exactly what I wanted to see every day anymore. He was being authentic, and he started pissing me off now and then instead of just telling me what I wanted to hear.” Maddoc’s smile fades. Not to sadness, but to a sober intensity that spears me right to my soul. “We’ve shared shit with each other, butterfly. The kinds of experiences that break most people, and the kinds of confessions you kill to keep secret. He became my family, my brother, and he’s not just one of the only people in the world I’ll ever say that about, he’s also the only one who ever could have fooled me like he did in the first place.”
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “So, you’re saying I don’t need to worry about him while he’s busy infiltrating West Point.”
Maddoc pulls me close, kissing me hard before resting his forehead on mine. “I’m saying he was made for this kind of shit. If you didn’t worry, you wouldn’t love him the way you do, but if something goes wrong, butterfly, it’s not gonna be because he fucked up or McKenna figured out the ruse. I trust Dante to get this done. I trust him to come back to us.”
I love Maddoc for giving me something to hold on to that isn’t just empty platitudes. For not reassuring me that nothing could possibly go wrong when we both know that will never be true.
I’m not stupid. Sometimes, bad luck just happens to strike at the worst possible time and life fucks you over even when you did everything right. But Maddoc is right about this; I know it. If anyone can pull it off, it’s Dante.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice breaking as the tight band of worry that’s been locked around my chest, making it impossible to breathe, finally loosens a little.
Maddoc nods, then kisses me again, a little deeper this time. Like he needs the reassurance too.
Then he flinches and pulls away
“What?” I ask, reaching for him and then pulling back. “Your hand?”
“No,” he digs his phone out of his pocket and frowns down at it, then looks up and gives me a grim smile, turning the screen to face me. “Dante’s in.”
“Oh god.” A wave of relief rolls through me.
Maddoc smirks, but I can see that he feels the same. “I told you it would be all right.”
Neither of us point out that this is just the beginning. For now, it’s enough to know that the plan is working. That Dante is…
He’s not safe.
“No, he’s not,” Maddoc says, making me realize I said it out loud. He looks at me seriously. “I want you to be, though. As much as it’s fucking possible to make that happen in this fucked-up world. Tonight, when that assassin showed up…”
He presses his lips together tightly, rage flashing across his face again.
“You beat him. We won,” I remind him quickly, cupping his jaw.
He nods, holding my hand against his face. “We did, and if he’d hurt you, I’d fucking drag his corpse back here and kill him all over again.”
“He wasn’t after me. He was sent here for you.”
Maddoc’s face darkens. “He didn’t give a shit. You were in the way. I need you to know how to defend yourself. It’s important.”
“Okay.”
“No, this isn’t negotiable, I—”
I cover his mouth with my fingers, my heart swelling with love for this fierce, ruthless man who puts his love for me before everything. “I said okay, Maddoc. You’re right. I’ll learn to defend myself.”
He stares at me for a minute, then chuckles. “Right. Good. I want you to work with Logan. He’s the best when it comes to fighting and self-defense.”
“Okay.”
He keeps staring at me for a minute, heat kindling in his gaze. Then he shakes his head with a rueful laugh and gets to his feet. “Quit fucking tempting me. You make me want to fuck you right through this mattress when you’re a good girl and do what I say like that, butterfly.”
“And that would be a bad thing?” I tease.
“That’s never a bad thing,” he says, his voice husky as he leans down and kisses me again. Then he straightens. “But you need to get some sleep, and I need to go update Logan on Dante’s communication, so it’s gonna have to wait.”
“Okay,” I say again, partly just to fuck with him.
He laughs, shaking his head at me, and leaves, taking a piece of my heart with him and leaving me with something even better. Something I’ll need to hold onto with both hands, because tomorrow is another day to try to survive.
And not a single tomorrow is guaranteed. Not for any of us.
Everything feelsoff kilter with Dante out of communication, other than a few small updates here and there, over the next week or so. Maddoc’s hand starts to heal as he stays out of sight, and as far as everyone else knows, Logan runs the Reapers now… which he actually does for the most part, despite still discussing all the important decisions with Maddoc whenever possible.
Still, he’s running himself ragged, and not just because of the extra time it takes to be the public face of the organization, but because it pushes him out of the routines and sense of order he requires. And on top of that, he’s training me in self-defense and combat, just like Maddoc wants.
“Again,” he insists when I fumble the move he’s been making me work on for the last forty minutes—a brutal but effective way to use my smaller body weight to break out of a chokehold and incapacitate my attacker.
He reaches a hand down to help me to my feet, and I glare up at him for a moment before I remind myself that I want to do this.
It’s not fun, and it’s definitely not the release I get when I dance, but I’ve thrown myself into all of it anyway—the hand-to-hand, the various weapons Logan’s made me practice with, the defensive and offensive maneuvers—because it makes me feel powerful. Because Maddoc wants it. And because a part of me will always love it when Logan pushes me.
But thank fuck for a lifetime of athleticism and stamina, because he’s the most demanding, uncompromising teacher in existence. He won’t accept ‘just okay’ ever. I have to be perfect, every fucking time.
The minute I’m on my feet, he shoves me against the wall, no sign of strain on his face as he puts me into a chokehold again, using his greater strength, height, fucking all of it, to totally dominate me.
For a second, I scrabble at his wrist, clawing at it as an instinctual panic sets in despite all our practice.
“Come on, wildcat,” he snaps, the faintest hint of impatience in his tone. “You know what to do. A real attacker would already have choked you out by now. Survive. Then make him pay.”
He’s right. It doesn’t matter how tired I am or how exacting Logan’s requirements are. Panic is no excuse.
I dig deep and move, throwing myself into the motions as the muscle memory he’s trained into me battles with my exhaustion and wins.
Yes, Logan pushes me hard, but I’ve gone at this training even harder. It’s the one thing I can do that makes me feel useful right now, and the only outlet I have for how fucking worried I am the more deeply enmeshed Dante gets inside Austin’s organization.
And I know I’m not the only one. Maddoc and Logan are just as worried as I am, even though they both show it in different ways.
Or, usually, don’t show it, which is fucking maddening… a fact that I use to fuel my frustration right now, knowing Logan won’t just be able to take it, he’ll praise me for channeling my emotion into pure, physical brutality.
I lift my arm and jab my elbow downward as I twist my upper body, breaking Logan’s hold around my throat and moving immediately into the attack he taught me.
It should work. It would work if he didn’t already know exactly what I’m about to do since he’s the one who fucking trained me on it.
“Fuck,” I scream, adrenaline surging through me as I kick and claw at him in a frenzy. He doesn’t hold back or make it easy on me, fighting just as dirty as a real attacker would and making it almost impossible for me to break free from him no matter how many times we’ve gone over this fucking move.
It only takes a few seconds for him to have me flat on my back, pinned to the floor and in a position that puts me completely at his mercy.
He springs to his feet and holds out his hand to help me up. “You need to stay focused. Let’s go again.”
I bite my tongue hard enough to taste blood, holding in the rude words that spring to mind.
He’s right. I can get this, and I need to. Life isn’t fucking fair, and if he didn’t go hard at me, I won’t be prepared for it when shit goes down for real.
He slams me against the wall, putting me in a chokehold, and I lift my arm and jab my elbow downward as I twist my upper body, breaking his hold around my throat and—
He slams me back against the wall again. “You’re moving too slowly,” he grunts. “You’re telegraphing every move with your eyes. It will get you killed.”
I pant for breath, staring back at him. Hating him just a little right now.
No, hating him a lot.
“Again,” he demands, his hands going around my neck as he puts me back in a chokehold.
I lean into the pressure, hard enough to cut off most of my air and not giving one single, solitary fuck.
“Fuck… you,” I hiss, narrowing my eyes at him. “I’m not telegraphing. You know because you taught me.”
He blinks. “That’s not true. You—”
I bat his hands away so suddenly that it actually works, slamming my fists into his chest hard enough to make him stumble backward.
The look on his face is almost comically surprised, but something’s snapped inside me. I can’t fucking take this anymore. I’m not amused. I don’t find it touching. I’m pissed the fuck off, growling something at him that even I can’t understand as I launch myself at him, beating at him with my fists, my feet, with no finesse at all and none of the techniques he’s spent so many hours teaching me.
“Wildcat…” he says, sounding almost bewildered as he grabs my wrists and incapacitates me, so damn easily that I feel like a total failure.
I burst into tears, suddenly and without any warning, everything I’ve been trying to hold together for so long spiraling out of control all at once.
“Fuck,” I gasp as if I’m drowning. “Goddammit. I’m so…”
Logan’s eyes are so wide I can see the whites all the way around his pale, icy blue irises. When my knees give out, he drops my wrists and yanks me against him, spinning me so my back is against his chest and wrapping his arms around me tightly. It’s a move he’s showed me before, and one that I should be able to break free from.
Is this another test?
I don’t know. And I’m so lost in the looming darkness of my panic that I can barely see straight, let alone think right. All I know is that I have to keep going. If I quit pushing, if I quit trying even for a moment, everything could come crashing down. I could lose these men. I could lose any one of them, everything I love, no matter what I do.
No matter how hard I fight.
“Riley,” Logan says, his arms like a steel cage around me as I struggle, kicking and scratching and panicking so hard I can barely breathe. “Riley. What do you need? Tell me. What is this?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” I gasp. I can’t put it into words. It’s bigger than me. It’s terrifying and overwhelming and too fucking much. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
He crushes me against him, stilling my movements a bit as he holds me tight. “Breathe with me. Tell me what you need.”
I stare blindly ahead, my vision blurred from tears. Nothing seems real, except for the feel of his chest, rising and falling behind me. His steady breaths slowly force mine into a matching rhythm until I finally start to feel just a little calmer, a little more in control.
No, I’m not in control. He’s in control.
I can’t move. I can’t break free.And I don’t want to.
This is exactly what I need.
“Please,” I whisper, the realization rolling through me. “Please. Don’t let me go.”
“I won’t,” he promises, his hot breath playing over the sensitive skin under my ear. “I’ll do anything you need, wildcat. Always.”
I shudder, sagging back against him as the choking, crushing pressure I’ve been under releases its hold on me all at once, his dark, determined, relentless brand of love driving it away.
Not that he’s ever said that word… but he doesn’t need to. I know how he feels, and this is what I need. I need to just completely let go for a moment, but nowhere is safe to do that right now.
Nowhere but here. Nowhere but with him.
“Take control,” I whisper, twisting around to look up at him. “Let me be yours right now. Let me belong to you. Take all the control, Logan.”
He stares down at me. “Is that what you need?”
“Yes,” I breathe the word out like a prayer. “I need you to fuck me like you own me. Fuck me like I have no choice. Fuck me like it’s all real. Make it real.”
It’s the one thing that’s missing when he trains me. I always know he’ll let me go in the end.
Deep down, I know he’ll let me get away from him.
And I don’t fucking want to.