4. Celia
Chapter 4
Celia
The heavy bang from a door slamming shut jolts me awake. My tongue feels like sandpaper, my throat hoarse and raw, my eyes glued shut. Prying them open takes a million years, then it takes a million more to sit up.
A tendril of smoke curls in the air a few feet away, the tip of a cigarette glowing as its owner inhales. Then Rebel’s rings click as he wraps his fingers around the cage door and draws a breath. The room is pitch black, but I can make out his eyes and lips when he takes another pull from his cigarette.
Exhaustion stares back at me before the room goes dark. I smell the smoke as he breathes in my direction.
“Take a break, Ruin,” Rebel mumbles, the sound of keys jingling making the hairs on my neck rise. “I’ve got her.”
I squint in the darkness and look around for Ruin, but I never sense where he is. How long has he been watching over me? Have I been asleep the entire time? My stomach cramps from hunger, and I choke on my next breath. That hurts, too, the sudden ache in my neck making it difficult to swallow. I think back to what happened before I fell asleep, and I remember Rage coming home, Rebel gnawing on a slab of steak, and then…
Swallowing painfully, I touch my throat and prod the tender spots with my fingertips. Then, I wrap my hand around my neck, and a violent shiver tumbles down my spine as a memory flickers. But my hand isn’t large enough to match the bruises—someone else touched me here. Someone whose hands are warm and calloused and rough, just as dangerous as the rest of him.
Rage must have squeezed so hard that I passed out. Vaguely, I remember him covering not only my neck, but my face as well, cutting off my ability to breathe. It would be one thing if this were a game, some kind of kink in action, but I know that he didn’t suffocate me to get his rocks off.
He did it to teach me a lesson.
One that I refused to learn.
Wincing, I remove my hand from my throat and take a shallow breath as I replay the scene in my head. I could have taken a breath before I passed out. Rage stopped covering my nose and mouth, perhaps expecting me to gasp for air, but I didn’t.
I let the sweet relief that comes from unconsciousness pull me under, and I feel damn good about denying Rage the one thing he wants: obedience. If he wants a wife, he’s going to have to learn that he can’t force me into anything. I’ll either go willingly, or not at all.
Even if it kills me.
Shadows suddenly shift in my field of vision, but by the time I realize what’s happening, it’s too late. I’m no longer alone inside my cage.
Fingertips ghost across my cheek, then a rumble of muted laughter follows. “Shhh, baby, or you’ll wake the big bad wolf.” Rebel chuckles again, and I can taste the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. My stomach knots, fighting a wave of nausea and failing miserably.
Is this what my life has become? A series of assaults disguised as flirtation?
Rebel crouches in the cramped space while I sit up straighter, our legs touching through the quilt. Blessed warmth bleeds from his body into mine, and I resist the urge to crawl into his lap and hold him. He might get the wrong idea. No, he would. This is survival now, not desire, and I doubt he understands the difference between the two. “What are you doing here, Rebel?”
He plucks at the quilt wrapped around my thighs. “I live here.”
Rolling my tired eyes, I wrap my arms around my stomach. “No, I mean, what are you doing here ? In my—” I refuse to call this my cage—“bed?”
He hums to himself, playing with the blankets that make up my so-called bed. Ignoring my question, he instead asks, “wanna get out of here?”
My heart skips. Is he letting me go?
“What?”
Leaning closer, he slides his palm over my hip and sighs into my hair. “Do you,” he whispers, “want to,” his arm curls around my waist, “get out of here?”
The suggestion in his voice ignites desire deep in my body, and I choke on a response. My mind may understand the need for survival, but my heart clearly doesn’t. I’ve always been attracted to Rebel, and this is the purest possible proof.
Some part of me still wants him, despite how fucked up my current situation is.
My mind races as I consider what he’s asking. What will happen if I leave with him? Where will we go? What will we do ? As Rebel’s hand slips inside the blanket and wanders up my back, I nearly moan at how gentle his touch is—and how warm. If I were a cat, I bet I’d be purring, and that’s not a good sign.
Rebel is just as much at fault—and as much of an asshole—as his brothers. He isn’t off the hook just because, despite all sense, I still like him.
Clearing my throat, I finally manage to summon my voice. “What’s the catch?”
He chuckles as he traces tiny circles into my lower back. “No catch, only…” His voice hums in my ear, sensual and alluring. “We can’t get caught.”
Anxiety flutters inside my chest. “Won’t Rage find out?” I glance toward his where his bedroom door should be, but it’s closed, the man himself supposedly sleeping just out of sight.
“Not if you can keep a secret.”
This is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea that could backfire any moment. But if I have any chance at a life outside of these gold bars, it’s by winning these men over again… starting with the easiest target. I bite my bottom lip and make a hasty decision, praying that I won’t regret it. “I can keep a secret.”
He kisses my cheek, the hint of a smile on his lips. “I know you can, baby. Let’s go.”
We move quickly from the cage to his bedroom, Rebel leading the way through the relative darkness. Using only the blue LED backlight to see by, he tosses me one of his band t-shirts from his closet, then a black leather jacket and a pair of sweatpants. “Put those on.” While I’m getting dressed, my stomach growls loud enough that I freeze, my eyes pinging to the wall separating Rebel’s room from Rage’s.
A muscle in Rebel’s jaw tics as he stares at my stomach. “He didn’t feed you?”
My face flushes. “I think, ah, I’ve been out cold all evening.”
“Fucking bastard,” he murmurs, running a hand down his face. “I thought he would—” Cutting himself off, he growls. “Piece of shit.”
I throw on the t-shirt, admiring how soft the fabric is. It must be one of Rebel’s favorites. I try not to smile as I put on the rest of his clothes. They look casual, but the material has that soft yet durable texture that means not only are the comfortable, but they’re premium quality. Someone has expensive tastes. I glance up at Rebel to find him staring at me, another soft smile playing on his lips as I shrug on the leather jacket next. It feels like a dream—like we’re stepping back into our lives from a week ago—and I try not to let it get to me. I really do, but… the jacket smells just like him, and I find myself smiling as I wrap it tighter around my body. Rebel’s always had a charm to him, and even though we’re not on good terms right now, I can still feel it—that magnetism between us. I catch him staring at me, and he doesn’t look away until I do.
Yeah, he might be feeling it, too.
Clearing his throat, he gestures toward the door. “After you.”
I hold my breath as we exit Rebel’s bedroom and sneak through the apartment. It’s only once we’re in the hallway that I can breathe again, relief that we made it out alive washing over me. An unexpected twinge of regret makes me glance back at the door, though. If Rage were in a better mood?—
Shaking my head, I stop that line of thinking before it has time to take root. He’s more than just an asshole; he’s a terrible person, and I can’t forget all of the horrible things he’s done just because I’m having a moment of weakness…
…or because some part of me still craves that gentler side of him—the one that’s capable of love.
Rebel, unaware of my emotional problems, continues our mission by gesturing for me to walk in front of him. “There’s a stairwell over here on the right. We’re going up.”
“Up?” We’re already on the second floor. “How tall is this building?”
“Three stories, but the third is only Ruin’s loft and an attic. The rest is rooftop.”
“So we’re going to… an attic?”
Rebel places his hand on the small of my back to guide me forward. “Don’t chicken out now.”
When we reach the top of the stairs, I’m expecting dust and decay as Rebel pushes open the door, but instead, a gust of cold winter air greets us. We emerge onto a rooftop patio, complete with a bar, a simple metal patio table with three chairs, and a sun lounger forgotten in the corner. A small set of stairs leads to a walkway that disappears over the ledge, likely for a fire escape, and the sprawling city looms all around us. Lights of all shapes and colors dot the streets below, the most prominent being the diner across the street—aptly named The Diner —and a tattoo shop a block over. Both businesses scream OPEN in bright pink and blue displays.
“Where are we?” I don’t recognize this part of the city. Despite being at the club several times now, I’ve never been allowed to see anything outside of my blindfold during transit. I glance over the ledge and find a red carpet rolled out below, a line of guests waiting to enter the building. “The club actually runs?”
“Like normal,” Rebel answers from a distance, “yeah. We can’t keep this place running on kinky sex nights alone. She has to earn her keep like the rest of us.”
I glance over my shoulder to find him at the bar. My stomach drops while he rummages through rows of bottles. “Haven’t you had enough tonight?” I step up to the bar and lean across it to snag his chosen bottle from his hand. The glass is freezing cold, but I don’t dare let go. “Your liver’s already swimming, Rebel. Give it a break.”
He scoffs, pulling back empty-handed. “Didn’t realize you cared.” He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets—a leather one that matches mine—and glares at the vodka in my hand. “But fine, drop it and we’ll go.” Once I’ve set the bottle onto the bar, he leads me to the ledge of the rooftop, takes the three steps up to the walkway I noticed earlier, and spins around to wait for me. As soon as he’s confident that I’m following him down the fire escape, he continues down the half-flights of stairs, only pausing to make sure I’m still behind him.
The back of my neck prickles as we reach the bottom. I look over my shoulder, expecting to see Rage come tumbling down the stairs after us. If he follows us outside, would we see him or hear him first?
“Chill out,” Rebel grumbles, taking my hand and leading me down the last flight of stairs. “You’re ruining the fun.” We cross the street in silence, the bright, neon sign signaling The Diner lighting our path. The bell over the door chimes as we enter, and Rebel lifts a hand toward one of the wait staff before leading me down the long row of booths lining the front windows and picking our table. It’s the one at the very end of the row, nestled into the corner of the restaurant.
Once I’m settled onto the seat, he slides in beside me, then drapes his arm over the back of our booth.
“What are you doing?” I look between him and the perfectly-empty other side. “There’s plenty of room over there.”
“Let’s get one thing straight.” Gripping my chin, he turns my face toward his. “Just because we’re fighting right now, doesn’t mean that you are any less mine. ” He brushes his thumb across my bottom lip, his dark eyes swirling with emotion. “But I’m not kissing you, no matter how fucking tempting it is, because I am mad.”
Our server arrives and Rebel orders a double cheeseburger with fries and a Coke, and I order the same in my rush to pick something. Rebel smirks, his fingertips brushing the tips of my left shoulder. “Rage is so going to flip his shit when he finds out I’m feeding you greasy burgers and fries.”
I’m mesmerized by the stubble on his chin, the easygoing manner in which he makes everything feel so effortless, the way he touches me so gently even when he says he won’t. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts, and Rebel spends the time staring right back at me, the slow curve to his lips delicious and sinful. “I thought he wasn’t supposed to find out?”
“Oh, he will. This whole area?” Rebel twirls his finger in a circle. “We own it. Well, technically your brother does since his name’s on all the legal docs, but we run this part of town. Rage focuses on the club more than anything, but I pay regular visits to the other fine establishments on the strip. The diner, the tattoo shop, the vape store—there’s even a valet for the club, so we run the lot, too, and everything in between.” Winking at me, he smiles. “How do you think I got so sexy, baby? All my tats and piercings come from right here.” He raps his knuckles on the table. “On home turf.”
I glance at the other customers drinking coffee or scarfing down waffles, then I watch the staff as they move around the room and crack jokes with each other. Everything looks so… normal. “You’re saying that the bratva owns this? They run this place?”
Rebel nods. “And all the others. We’re not all heartless murderers and depraved criminals, you know.” He takes a slow sip of his soda. “Sallie-Mae over there is working doubles to take care of her little brother since her parents are sacks of shit, and George on the grill has two little girls at home. But he’s got a hell of a right hook, so he’s run security for us a few times. We keep him out of the most dangerous runs, though, on account of his wife and kid. Then, see that couple over there?” He nods toward two teenagers out past their curfew. “That’s Rina and Neve Ruskov. They’re step-siblings, but you wouldn’t know it, lookin’ at ‘em.”
The teenagers are, in fact, sitting really close to each other. Neve, the boy, leans over to whisper something in Rina’s ear, and her face flames bright red. They throw cash on the table and leave in record time, following each other closely to their car.
I bite my lip. “Shouldn’t we tell their parents?”
Rebel laughs, his shoulders bouncing, while Sallie-Mae slides our burgers in front of us. As he shakes a ketchup bottle, he says, “trust me, they already know.” He digs into his food, groaning as the first meaty, cheesy bite hits his tongue.
My stomach growls loudly, so I pick up a thin fry, dip it into Rebel’s ketchup, and take a bite. Salt explodes on my tongue, the cool ketchup soothing the bite. I lick my lips and a wave of nostalgia washes over me.
I haven’t eaten French fries in years.
Rebel pinches a handful of fries between his fingers and pops them into his mouth while I go slow and steady, savoring every bite. The Coke is sticky sweet and bubbly, and I suck it down greedily. Once Rebel notices, he replaces my empty glass with his half-full one until Sallie-Mae refreshes them. She smiles prettily at us, her eyes a gorgeous blue and her blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. “Good to see you again, Rebel,” she says warmly, still smiling. “Been busy lately? We’ve missed you on Friday nights.”
He takes a sip of his drink before nodding. “You know how it is, Mae. Winter keeps those stiff-fucks indoors, and that’s where I shine best.” There’s a bite of sarcasm in his voice, but neither of them comment on it. Instead, he closes his hand over my shoulder and squeezes. “This is my girl, Celia. Anytime you see her on the street, you say hello, okay?”
Sallie-Mae turns her bright smile onto me. “Of course! Any friend of Rebel’s is a friend of mine. He’s helped me out more than I can ever say. So anything you want, darlin’, you just holler.”
Lifting a finger, Rebel clicks his tongue. “Celia’s not my friend , Mae, she’s my girlfriend. ” To emphasize his point, he presses a tender kiss to my cheek. “Make sure everyone knows it.”
She clears her throat, careful to keep her smile in place. “Of course. I’ll spread the word.”
Once Sallie-Mae has slipped into the back, Rebel relaxes.
My stomach churns all of a sudden, and I push my plate away. Sallie-Mae is friendly enough that Rebel feels the need to stake his claim over me, and something about it rubs me the wrong way. Clearing my throat, I try to keep my voice from shaking. “Have you fucked her?” I ask, keeping my voice down.
Rebel freezes, his drink halfway to his lips.
“I mean, it’s okay if you have.” My face heats. God, I’ve never had to have a conversation like this before, and it makes me feel really juvenile. Finding out that your husband is having an affair? Gut-wrenching. Asking your sometimes-boyfriend if he’s had sex with another woman? Somehow, it feels like a precursor to bad news. I die a little inside as new, post-divorce insecurities rear their ugly heads. I never used to question my partner’s loyalty, but now I feel like it’s as inevitable as breathing. I shouldn’t have even asked, but now that the genie is out of the bottle, I can’t shove it back inside. Rebel is staring at me with this bewildered look on his face, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing as much as I can’t believe I’m still talking about it.
“It’s not like I have ownership over you. And you clearly have a life I know nothing about. It’s just that I—” Flustered, I fidget with a paper napkin and tear it into strips. “I need to know, so that I don’t feel like an idiot when she smiles at me like that.”
Like she knows what it means to be Rebel’s special girl.
“I know that it’s none of my business?—”
Rebel abruptly grabs my face in his hands and slams his mouth over mine, and suddenly, the booth isn’t big enough for the two of us. He pins me to the seat, bumping the table across the booth as he presses his body as close as humanly possible to mine, suffocating any hope I had for space from his hot-and-cold attitude. I’m getting whiplash...
…until he kisses me like that .
His lips are a salty mess, but they slide against mine with a fervor that leaves no room for imagination. He might be angry with me for running away, but that hasn’t changed a damn thing about how he feels about us.
Heat sizzles between us, and I grab the edges of his jacket to pull him closer. There’s nothing nice about this kiss—it’s hot and fast and damn delicious, setting my body on fire and making my heart skip three beats. He pulls back just enough to smirk against my lips. “Jealousy tastes so fucking good on you, baby.”
His smirk still in place, he plops back down on the bench and chuckles as he fishes a handful of bills from his wallet. Tossing them onto the table, he slides from the booth and pinches his snakebite between his teeth while he waits for me to stand.
I stand as fast as I can, ignoring Sallie-Mae’s cheerful goodbye as I rush out of the diner and onto the cold street. I shiver immediately, the high from Rebel’s kiss making the crash of reality that much harder.
He never answered my question. I take that as a yes , he’s fucked Sallie-Mae, probably more than once. I’m so stupid for feeling jealous about it, but I can’t help it. What if it’s like Rebel said? He frequents all of the businesses on the strip. He could have slept with anyone. What if that’s his thing? Is he well-known and well-liked because of how well-fucked he is? Is that why I find him so charming? He’s practiced?
Rebel doesn’t miss a beat, grabbing my hand and pulling me to a stop. The smile on his face disappears instantly. “Hey, talk to me, don’t run away.”
I laugh, the sound falling past my lips like dominos crashing. “What are we doing?” Shaking my head, I try to reign in my bitterness at how fucked-up our relationship is. “You say you won’t kiss me, but then you call me your girlfriend and practically shove your tongue down my throat. Now we’re just gonna go back to, what , locking me up in a cage while you drown yourself in alcohol? How is that okay?”
Late-night mist fogs the air and clings to our skin, blurring the lights from the diner and making the streetlights glow in an orange haze. Rebel holds onto my hand, refusing to let me go. “We’re figuring this out, Celia. You are my girlfriend, at least I think so. Fuck, baby, I don’t know what to call it, but does it matter? You’re mine just as much as you are Rage’s, and if I have to put you in that goddamn cage to keep you from running from me again, I fucking will.” He drags me into his chest and slips his hand into my hair, tilting my head back to peer into my eyes. The orange light reflects like copper in his eyes, warm and melted like caramel. The mist clings to his hair, sparkling as he moves, making him even more beautiful than he already is.
It’s hard to stay angry when he looks at me like he’s falling in love.
“I’ve never done this before, so I’m going to fuck up sometimes,” he murmurs, sweeping his thumb across my damp cheekbone. “But that doesn’t make this any less real, okay? I want you, Celia. I want you more than I want air.” He presses our foreheads together and sighs. “I know I can be a dick about it, so just… give me time… to figure this all out.”
I lean into his warmth and try to process what he’s saying. It feels like I’m the one falling—faster than I can see, the earth sliding out from under my feet, without any idea of which way is up anymore. I wrap my arms around his body and he melts into me, damn near purring like a cat. “Okay,” I breathe, pressing my face into his neck, “let’s figure this out. Together.”
He presses a quick kiss to the top of my head. “You got it, mama. ”
Snorting, I roll my eyes. “Please don’t call me that.” My heart jumps at the implication, both fearful and hopeful at the same time. How can something that’s supposed to be beautiful and radiant feel so complicated?
Rebel pulls away and fondles the collar at my throat, the heart pendant as warm as his fingers. I’d forgotten I had it on.
“Why not? Are you saving it for Rage?”
“No.” I scrunch my nose. “He’s the last person who deserves it.”
Especially if he forces a baby on me. There is no going back from that.
Biting his bottom lip, Rebel gets this goofy look on his face. It’s quickly replaced by the usual suave smirk and glittering mischief, but I saw it—for one brief moment, Rebel looked like the most ridiculous, lovestruck idiot on the planet.
I have no idea what he was thinking, and it’s over so fast that I can’t ask. In an instant, he’s gone back to being completely composed, oozing sex appeal as though it comes as natural to him as breathing. “Can I…” He slips his fingers into the waistband of my sweatpants and teases my hip. “Can I show you something?”
“It’s not your dick, is it?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “No, baby, not this time.” Squeezing my hip, he spins me around and gently pushes me down the sidewalk. “It’s just over here. It’ll be a quick detour, and then we’ll get you back to your cage, I promise.” Although he winks like he’s joking, I know that it’s only a matter of time before I’m locked away again.
“Fine,” I agree, walking into the unknown with Rebel at my heels. “One detour.” He whoops loudly, making me laugh right along with him.
Figuring things out between us might take time, but for tonight, I’m okay just going along for the ride.