25. 25 Tori
25: Tori
“Remind me to never piss you off, Kitkat,” Ryder quips, leaning casually against a crate. His grin is cocky and carefree—teeth flashing white against the blood smeared on his face.
Thorne lingers a moment, his dark eyes fixed on me. When he finally speaks, his tone is low and matter-of-fact. “We knew you were unstoppable, Vic. But seeing you like this,” he drags his thumb over his lower lip, wiping a spot of blood. “It's hot as hell.”
I swallow hard, not sure whether to laugh or fight the lump in my throat. Blaze steps forward next, moving with purpose as he stands before me. He studies me for a beat before nodding. “You’re blooming, Tori.”
“Blooming?” I repeat, my voice catching as the word hangs in the air. My mind races—is this what he meant when he said he’d make me bloom? Turning into someone who can kill without a flicker of hesitation? For a moment, a part of me wonders if becoming this ruthless version of myself is what it takes to survive. But then I catch sight of all of them, and something inside clicks.
I don’t give a flying fuck .
It feels right. It might not be pretty or soft, but it’s exactly what I need. I’m shedding what held me back—morphing into someone stronger, someone who won’t let fear call the shots.
I nod slowly, my own voice quiet but clear. “Yeah. I think I am.”
Blaze’s mouth quirks into something close to a smile before he shifts focus. “We’re not done yet. Juan’s bleeding out somewhere, and the girls need to get out of here. Let’s move.”
Juan. The guilt smacks me like a freight train. The guy took a bullet, and I left him behind to chase after Nico.
Great job, Tori. Really stellar priorities.
“On it,” Ryder says, already leading the way out.
We march out while Diablo’s men shuffle around, and the low hum of voices fills the space as the girls are ushered out. Their faces are drawn but alive. The war seems to have ended long before Nico’s life did. The aftermath is too great in casualties, but we pretend not to notice the bodies as we revel in the victory.
Keagan’s waiting by one of the vans, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place. “Took you long enough,” he drawls as we step outside. “What, did you stop for a group selfie on the way out?”
“Sorry to disappoint,” Ryder shoots back. “We were busy saving the day. You know, like usual.”
Keagan snorts, his smirk widening. “Oh yeah, real heroic. Covered in blood, terrifying everyone in a ten-mile radius—definitely résumé material.”
“Jealousy’s not a good look on you, Keags,” Ryder says, flashing one of his infuriatingly perfect grins.
Before the banter can turn into a full-on show, Blaze cuts in, voice sharp but not unkind. “Enough. Where’s Juan?”
“I got him loaded up and taken to his medic person ages ago. No need to worry,” he pats Blaze on the shoulder, gaining a glare that has him backing away slowly.
“Great, now get the girls accounted for and loaded up. Diablo’s men will take it from here.”
Keagan rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, shifting into action as the girls are ushered into the vans. Within minutes, the convoy is pulling away, the rescued girls safely in the hands of Diablo’s crew.
When the last vehicle disappears down the road, the warehouse falls into an eerie silence, the kind that feels unnatural after the chaos we just walked out of. It’s just us now—me, Blaze, Ryder, and Thorne. The weight of what we’ve done sits between us, heavy but not suffocating. If anything, it feels like taking a deep breath after being underwater too long.
The drive home is quieter than I expected. By the time we pull into the driveway, the house looks like a goddamn sanctuary. Ryder stretches as he steps out of the car, glancing back with a raised brow. “So, I’m guessing food is out of the question?”
“Not until we get cleaned up,” Blaze says, no hesitation.
Ryder groans dramatically but doesn’t argue, leading us inside and up the stairs.
Every step up the stairs sends another pulse of ache through my legs, but my brain’s still going a mile a minute, too wired to shut down. I stop in front of the bathroom door, hand hovering over the handle, the promise of a scalding shower taunting me.
I glance back. Blaze, Ryder, and Thorne are close behind, their presence impossible to ignore—calm, watchful, and just a little too there. Like they’re waiting for me to crack so they can swoop in and… fix me, like I’m some broken thing in need of saving.
I'm good, boys.
No need of saving here.
“You okay, Kitkat?” Ryder asks, his voice softer than usual, all the teasing edges dulled down. It’s weird. I don’t know what to do with Ryder when he’s serious—it’s like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. Unsettling.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, too quickly, my voice quieter than I mean it to be.
Classic, Tori, pretend everything’s fine until it absolutely isn’t.
There’s a pause, just long enough for me to feel the weight of it, before Blaze steps in. His hand brushes the small of my back—just a quick touch, steady, grounding. “Go ahead,” he says, voice calm but firm in that way only Blaze can pull off.
I swallow hard and nod, pushing open the bathroom door. I waste no time turning on the hot water. The room is warm, steam clinging to the air, the scent of soap already thick like a promise of something clean, something new . I peel off my bloodied clothes, each movement slower than the last, and step under the spray.
The water is scalding—probably too hot—but I don’t care. It burns in a way that feels good, like it’s melting off everything clinging to me: the blood, the sweat, the grime, the guilt. I tip my head back, letting it seep into every aching muscle, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself breathe.
Then the door creaks open behind me, and every muscle in my body tenses. Because of course, I don’t even get ten minutes to myself before someone barges in.
“Relax, it’s just me,” Blaze says, voice steady and unbothered, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “You didn’t think we’d let you do this alone, did you?”
Yes. Actually. I did .
Blaze doesn’t wait for a response. He undresses with that slow, deliberate precision that I know damn well is just for show. When he steps closer, his dark eyes track over me—not in the usual way, not hungry, not teasing. Just seeing . Every bruise, every scrape, every unspoken thought I’m trying to bury.
Warm water drips down my skin as he reaches for a washcloth, dragging it across my shoulders, scrubbing away the dried blood.
“You might not think so, but you did good tonight, Tori.”
The words hit something deep inside me, unraveling a knot I hadn’t even realized was there. Blaze doesn’t do empty praise, and he sure as hell doesn’t waste words. If he’s saying it, he means it. And right now, that’s exactly what I need.
Then, because I can’t have one moment to process, the door creaks open again.
Ryder steps in, his usual grin firmly back in place. “What’s this? A private party?”
Before I can say anything, he’s already yanking his shirt over his head, kicking his shoes off and walking right out of his pants like modesty is a foreign concept.
“You’re ridiculous,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as he steps into the spray.
“Ridiculously charming,” he corrects, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. His voice drops, teasing replaced with something softer. “I was scared out of my mind for you tonight, you know that? But damn, Kitkat. You were unstoppable.”
“Keep talking, and I’ll show you unstoppable ,” I shoot back, but there’s no heat behind it. He grins, and—goddammit—I hate that it makes me smile too.
The door opens one last time, quieter this time.
Thorne steps inside, saying nothing as he strips down, his movements careful, unhurried. He doesn’t speak when he kneels in front of me, his hands finding my legs, his touch gentle as he starts to clean me off.
He doesn’t have to say anything. It’s in the way he moves. In the way his fingers brush over my skin like he’s memorizing me all over again. It’s in the way he looks up at me, his dark eyes holding something heavier than words.
And just like that, the last bit of tension in me breaks.
I’m safe. I’m theirs . And for the first time tonight, I let myself feel it.
“You killed someone tonight, Vic,” Thorne says finally, his voice low but steady. His dark eyes meet mine, no judgment, no hesitation—just quiet certainty. “But I hope you know it doesn't make you a monster. No matter what you think, you’re not. We'll take that title for you. We'll be the monsters in the night and you'll be our queen.”
I swear, it’s like he can read my damn mind, plucking insecurities straight out of my skull before I can even pretend they don’t exist.
The words hit hard, unraveling something tight in my chest. I blink, my throat constricting as their hands and words work together, stripping away everything I’ve been holding in. And for once, I let myself believe them.
Together, they strip away more than just the dirt and blood. They strip away the fear, the doubt, the version of myself that was still trying to hold on to something weaker, something smaller.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel lighter. Not fixed, not whole, but lighter. Like I can finally breathe again.
The shower is crowded, warm, and very much lacking in personal space. Not that I mind. Or, okay, maybe for like half a second—but it’s hard to care when Ryder’s already making himself at home, fingers combing through my hair like he’s some kind of professional stylist.
“Move over, Blaze,” Ryder says, bumping him with zero shame. That familiar, shit-eating grin is back in full force. “You’re hogging prime real estate.”
Blaze doesn’t even blink. “Get in line.”
Ryder scoffs. “I’m not standing in line for something that’s already mine.” His hands never leave my hair, his voice dropping a notch as he leans in and brushes a kiss against my forehead—gentle, almost reverent. “Besides, Kitkat loves me best.”
I roll my eyes, water dripping down my face. “If you’re gonna lie, at least make it believable.”
Thorne, stands, leaning against the tile like he’s waiting for all of us to remember there are much bigger things to deal with than this ridiculous pissing contest. But even he can’t quite hide the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.
Blaze’s hand brushes my shoulder, deliberate and steady as always. He is calm, in control, and somehow even more intense because of it.
“You looked powerful tonight, Doll,” he says, his voice low and rough, the kind of tone that makes my stomach flip. His hand trails down my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “The way you handled him, the way you held steady... it was breathtaking.”
I blink, caught completely off guard. Blaze is usually a vault full of unsaid compliments—if anything, they’re as rare as Ryder’s moments of silence.
“Breathtaking?” I echo, my voice tinged with disbelief. “Are you flirting with me, or giving me a performance review?”
His lips twitch into something resembling a smile—barely there, but enough to make my chest tighten. “Maybe both,” he says simply, his gaze steady. “You should know by now, Tori. I notice everything about you.”
Okay, well. That’s... a lot to process.
My brain scrambles for a sarcastic comeback, but it’s like all my usual defenses short-circuit under the weight of his words.
“She was terrifying. In the best way possible,” Ryder cuts in, his hands sliding around my waist from behind. His lips brush against the side of my neck, his grin audible in his voice. “Pretty sure I fell in love with you all over again watching you take Nico down.”
His grin widens as he tilts my head back to kiss me. His lips are warm and playful, familiar in a way that makes my heart feel like it’s trying to climb out of my chest.
Blaze watches silently, his gaze dark and unreadable, but there’s no mistaking the heat in his eyes. When Ryder finally pulls back, Blaze steps closer, his hand sliding to the small of my back.
“You don’t even realize what you did tonight,” he says, his voice softer now. “You proved to everyone—including yourself—that you’re stronger than any of us ever gave you credit for.”
“Strong, beautiful, terrifying,” Thorne adds from his spot.
“Quit,” I mutter, though my lips twitch into something that might be a smile.
Thorne steps in next, trailing his fingers along my jaw. His dark eyes hold mine, admiring, too in awe of me for me not to suddenly blush. “You’re our queen,” he says quietly, his voice low and certain, cutting through the teasing like a blade. “And nothing will ever change that.”
My breath catches—not from the words themselves, but from the way he says them. There’s no hesitation, no doubt, like he’s been waiting his whole life to say it. When he leans in, his lips brushing against mine, it’s slow and passionate, like everything about him.
Blaze’s hands find my hips and hold me steady from the side while Ryder’s fingers skim along my arms, teasing and light, from behind.
It’s not like last time—not awkward, not uncertain. They’re not overthinking it, and neither am I. The water runs hotter as the steam thickens, their hands and mouths mapping every inch of me like they’re trying to learn who I am again. Who we are together.
All I can feel is them—every touch, every breath, every press of skin. Ryder’s hands roam over my hips, his grip firm as he pulls me back against him. His lips brush my ear, his voice low and teasing. “Tell me, Kitkat,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing my skin. “Do you know how fucking hard it is not to bend you over right now?
His words send a shiver down my spine and I lean into him instinctively, my hands reaching for balance. Blaze grips my chin, turning my face up to meet his gaze, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a heat that makes my stomach tighten. “I’ll let them have you first. I want to watch. And then I want you all to myself.”
Ryder lets out a soft laugh, the sound vibrating against my back, his hands sliding lower over my stomach, teasing at the edge of where I want him most. “What do you think, sweetheart? Should we give him a good show?”
“Ryder,” I say, my voice breathy, but the rest of my words die on my tongue as Thorne places his hands on my waist, his touch possessive but careful.
His dark eyes flicker with something sharp, and his lips brush against mine, kissing me, deep and consuming, his hands sliding up my thighs as he pulls me closer. My fingers tangle in his hair, and the low growl that escapes his throat sends a jolt of heat through me.
Ryder’s hands slide lower, his fingers slipping between my thighs as his lips find the curve of my neck. “So wet already,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of awe and amusement. “Fuck, KitKat. You always feel so good.”
Blaze has backed away from us as much as he can, watching as he said he would. He's not touching himself just yet, but I know he will be soon. His eyes sear into me, and I know he’s watching even when I'm not looking.
Thorne’s grip on my waist tightens, his hands guiding me as he shifts lower, his lips trailing down my stomach. His breath is warm against my skin, and when his mouth finds the inside of my thigh, I can’t stop the gasp that escapes me. My knees threaten to buckle, but Ryder holds me steady, his hands and mouth moving in tandem to keep me on the edge of losing control.
“Look at her,” Ryder says, his voice low and thick. “So fucking perfect like this. Falling apart for us.”
Blaze hums in agreement, “I know you like to edge, Ryder,” he murmurs, his tone a command wrapped in silk. “So, let her build. Let her beg.”
My breath comes faster, my heart pounding in my chest as Ryder and Thorne's touches blur together, a perfect blend of rough and tender, teasing and demanding.
“Beg?” I manage to choke out, my voice trembling but edged with defiance. “I’m not going to—”
Ryder cuts me off with a sharp laugh, his teeth grazing my neck. “Oh, you will,” he says, his fingers slipping deeper, making my breath catch. “Trust me, Kitkat. By the time we’re done with you, you’ll be begging for more.”
“Or begging for mercy,” Thorne adds from below, his mouth now dangerously close to where I need him most. His hands grip my thighs, keeping them spread just enough to make me feel exposed, vulnerable, and so damn turned on I can’t think straight. His dark eyes flick up to meet mine, and there’s something predatory in his gaze that makes my stomach twist in the best way.
“Do you want us to stop?” he asks, his voice low and taunting, his breath warm against my skin.
“No,” I breathe, the word escaping before I can second guess it.
“That’s our girl,” Blaze says, his hands sliding to grip his cock. “Don’t hold back, Tori. We want to hear you.”
Thorne doesn’t make me wait any longer. His mouth is on me, his tongue and lips working in ways that make my head fall back against Ryder’s chest. My hands find his hair, tugging slightly as my legs threaten to give out. The low groan that vibrates against me only pushes me closer to the edge.
Ryder’s fingers are circling my clit all the while Thorne's tongue does the most delectable things to my pussy. “She’s close,” Ryder murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You feel that? The way she’s trembling?”
“She hasn’t begged,” Blaze reminds them, his tone calm but commanding.
At the same time that Thorne stops, Ryder moves his hand around my thigh and inserts his fingers inside me, replacing Thorne’s tongue. Thorne moves up, and his teeth graze at my clit in a light nibble. They’re teasing me, edging me. They want to hear me beg, but I don’t want to give them the satisfaction.
Ryder chuckles, his thumb pressing harder, making me gasp.
They have me trapped between them, and the more I struggle, the more they touch.
Blaze moves toward us, his eyes darkening as he takes in the sight. He leans down, his face inches from mine. "Beg," he commands, his gaze hard.
I shake my head, refusing to give in.
He narrows his eyes, his jaw clenching.
"Tori," Ryder warns, his thumb moving faster, his fingers gripping tighter.
"Fuck," I curse, the pressure building.
"Say the words," Thorne demands, his voice low and firm, his breath hot against my core.
"Please," I whisper, the word barely audible.
"Louder," Blaze orders, his fingers trailing along my jaw.
"Please," I repeat, this time louder.
"Again," Ryder encourages, his fingers plunging deeper.
"Please," I moan, the word coming out almost like a scream.
"Good girl," Thorne purrs, his lips closing around my clit, sucking gently.
Thorne’s grip tightens on my thighs, and his movements grow more deliberate, more focused, as if he’s determined to drag every last ounce of control out of me. My body arches, my breath hitching as the tension building inside me snaps, pleasure rolling through me in waves that leave me trembling and gasping for air.
Ryder keeps me upright, his hands steadying me as Thorne finally pulls back, his lips glistening as he rises to his feet. His gaze locks with mine, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking. “I told you,” he says simply, his voice low and satisfied. “Ours.”
Before I can recover, Ryder turns me in his arms, his grin wide and wicked. “My turn,” he says, his hands gripping my waist as he lifts me effortlessly. He presses me back against the cool tile, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that’s hot and messy and full of all the things he doesn’t bother putting into words.
Blaze slides his hand down my side as his lips brush against my ear. “You can handle more, can’t you, Tori?” he murmurs, his voice a challenge that sends another wave of heat pooling low in my stomach. “We’re not done yet.”