Chapter 30 Bellamy
THIRTY
BELLAMY
Fear and excitement twist together in my chest, tightening and releasing in uneven waves that make it hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. It feels like something alive, coiling around my ribs and squeezing every few breaths, like it’s trying to remind me that this is real.
That I am, in fact, standing at the edge of a cliff.
The drop stretches out below me, sixty feet of jagged rock and open air before the ocean crashes into itself in a violent, endless rhythm. The water looks darker from up here. Deeper. The kind of deep that swallows you whole if you hesitate.
Wind whips through my braids, snapping loose strands against my cheeks as the sun presses warm against my back, a stark contrast to the cold I know is waiting for me below. My fingers tingle. My toes curl against the uneven rock beneath my feet.
God, I’ve missed this.
Gage’s hand wraps around mine on my right, steady and warm, grounding me just enough to keep the adrenaline from tipping into something sharper.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asks, glancing down at my shoulder. “That thing actually healed, or are you about to regret all your life choices?”
I snort, rolling my shoulder once like I need to prove it. “It’s been fine for a while. I’m not backing out.” I glance at him, mouth curving. “But if you want to stay up here, I won’t judge you too much.”
“Please,” he says, already shaking his head. “I’m not the brother you need to worry about chickening out.”
We both look over our shoulders at the same time.
Cruz is a few feet back, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable as he looks out over the water like he’s deciding whether any of this is worth his time.
I grin. “It’s okay, Cruzie,” I call, drawing the nickname out. “You can sit this one out. Keep Bishop company. I know he’s not jumping.”
“I’m fucking here, aren’t I?” Bishop grunts.
I glance at him, lifting a brow. “Kind of looks like it’s against your will.”
His mouth twitches like he’s deciding whether to argue with me or throw me off the cliff himself.
Before he can do either, Rafe steps up on my left, close enough that I feel the heat of him before I fully register the movement. His shoulder brushes mine, solid and grounding in a completely different way than Gage.
“Are we up here to yap,” he says, voice low and rough, “or are we up here to jump?”
I turn my head, meeting his eyes, and something in my chest shifts again, sharper this time. I grin. “Oh, I’m ready.”
I thread my fingers through his, tightening my grip on both of them at the same time, and then I tug. “Let’s go.”
The three of us run. The edge disappears beneath us in a blur of movement and sound, and then—
There’s nothing but gravity.
The drop hits all at once, the wind tearing past my ears as the world tilts and stretches into something weightless and unreal. My stomach flips hard enough to make me laugh, the sound ripping out of me before I can stop it.
It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
It’s the kind of feeling that burns through your veins and makes everything else disappear.
For a split second, fear worms its way into the euphoria, trying to sink its hooks into me, convince me I’m going to die because there’s no ground beneath my feet.
But I shove it back and welcome the weightlessness and endorphin rush once more.
The water rushes up fast, dark and endless and waiting, and I force my body straight, legs tight, bracing for impact as the surface rises to meet us.
It slams into me all at once, sharp and consuming, stealing the air from my lungs as the ocean closes over my head. Everything goes quiet for half a second, the world reduced to pressure and movement and the distant roar of water rushing past my ears.
Then hands tighten around mine, pulling me up. We break the surface together.
Air hits my lungs in a rush as I gasp, letting go of their hands for the first time. I push wet hair back from my face while water drips down my shoulders. Gage surfaces on one side, Rafe on the other, both of them shaking their heads back, sending water flying as they catch their breath.
Laughter spills out of me, loud and unrestrained and a little wild. “Holy shit,” I breathe, grinning as I look between them. “That never gets old.”
Gage huffs out a laugh. “You say that like you do this every weekend.”
“I would if I could,” I shoot back.
Rafe’s mouth curves slightly, eyes still on me. “You didn’t hesitate.”
“Of course I didn’t,” I say, lifting my chin. “I had two grown men dragging me off a cliff. What was I supposed to do, fight you?”
“You could’ve tried,” Gage says.
I glance between them, then grin wider. “As if I couldn’t drag you both off the cliff.”
“We’d let you,” Gage corrects with a grin.
Their attention stays on my face, and heat curls low in my stomach, sharp and familiar, but I shove it aside before it can take root.
I jerk my chin toward the rocks. “You ready to go again?”
“Already?” Gage asks.
“Don’t tell me you’re tired.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Not even close.”
“I’ll stay and spot for whoever jumps next,” Rafe says.
It’s one of our rules when we jump: never jump alone. And if you are, someone should be in the water, just in case something goes really wrong.
Gage and I swim toward the edge. We don’t talk as we pull ourselves up onto the lower rocks. Water sluices down my body, turning everything slippery. It doesn’t take too long for me to find my footing, the climb back up familiar enough that my body falls into it without much thought.
By the time we reach the top again, my pulse is still racing, my skin still buzzing from the jump.
Cruz and Bishop are exactly where we left them. Waiting and watching.
I brush my hands off on my thighs, lifting my gaze toward them as a slow smile pulls at my mouth.
“Alright. You ready, brother?” Gage asks Cruz. “You don’t really have to jump, man.”
Cruz steps up to the edge. “Just waiting on you.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “Try not to miss me too much, Bells.”
Cruz and Gage go over the edge in quick succession, their bodies disappearing cleanly into open air before the sound of the water follows a second later.
And then it’s just us.
I don’t look at Bishop right away. I let the silence sit for a second, let it stretch just enough to feel intentional before I turn my head.
He’s still standing there like he hasn’t moved an inch since we got here, arms loose at his sides now, gaze fixed somewhere out over the water.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him. “Is this how it’s going to be now?”
He doesn’t look at me. “What?”
“Something happens between us,” I say, “and then you just… don’t talk to me?”
His eyes cut to mine, sharp and immediate. “I’m talking to you right now.”
“Barely,” I scoff. I take a step closer, not enough to crowd him, just enough to close the space. “Listen,” I say, quieter now, “we—”
“Nothing happened,” he cuts me off.
My gaze drifts over his face, slow and deliberate, like I’m cataloging every detail he’s trying to keep locked down.
A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Something definitely happened. And it wasn’t the first time.”
He moves before I fully register it. One second there’s space between us—the next, his hand is on my face.
His palm presses over my mouth, firm, controlled, not rough but not gentle either.
His pinky brushes just beneath my nose, the heel of his hand anchoring my jaw as he steps into me, close enough that I feel the heat of him through the thin space between us.
My breath stutters against his skin as my heart skips a beat before picking up its pace.
His eyes lock onto mine. “Let me make something clear to you: You don’t know me; you’ve never known me.” His thumb shifts slightly, not enough to soften the hold, just enough to keep me exactly where he wants me. “But I know you.”
Every word lands like it’s been sharpened beforehand. My breathing picks up the longer I look into his blue-gray eyes.
“I know how you move. I know what you do to people,” he continues, voice low and baked with something I can’t decipher.
Something tightens in my chest, but I don’t look away.
“I know exactly what’s going to happen here: you’re going to fucking ruin this family.”
It’s conviction. That’s what coats his words.
“So I hope you enjoy today, Bellamy.” His gaze flicks over my face once, like he’s memorizing something. “Because when this all falls apart—and it fucking will—you’re the only one to blame. And then god help you, because you’re gonna need it.”
He drops his hand and steps back.
I blink once, twice, slow, letting the words linger in the air between us. Letting them graze every tender, unbandaged piece of me before they settle somewhere deeper, somewhere that will keep them alive for later.
I roll my neck slowly, once, twice, letting the tension crack and settle as I shake out my arms like I can physically dislodge the weight of it.
This isn’t new. Different words but same intent. The problem is that it still lands every fucking time.
And I hate that I’m standing here cataloging the exact pressure of his palm against my jaw, the specific temperature of his voice when he said ruin, the way his eyes moved over my face at the end like he was taking something with him.
I’m not that girl anymore.
I’m also not sure that matters.
My mouth curves anyway, because it’s the only thing I have that’s mine right now.
“Still dramatic,” I say, quiet enough that it’s mostly for me.I should leave it there. I know how to leave things there—I’ve been doing it my whole life, setting things down and walking away before they get heavy enough to matter.
I take a step back, then another.
The edge finds me before I’m ready for it, the drop yawning open beneath my heels, and for one suspended second I don’t move.
Then I jump.