Chapter 32 #2
Cassie nods once, then bolts for the sink.
She grabs one of the chipped mugs sitting next to the wrench set.
The tap squeals as it runs, water splashing over her hand while she mutters something sharp under her breath.
Her movements are jerky and fast, fueled by adrenaline and rage. She’s barely holding it together.
Skylar lowers herself onto the stool. Her arms wrap around her middle, and she curls in on herself.
Small.
Shaking.
Trying like hell not to fall apart, even though I can see the tears building in her eyes.
“Who did this?” Rainer asks.
Cassie shoots a glare over her shoulder, her voice sharp enough to cut steel.
“Those fucking assholes with Bryce? Yeah, real tough when it’s three against two girls in an alley.”
Rainer’s jaw locks. The lines around his mouth deepen. “Bryce who?”
“Anders.”
His expression shifts
“Bryce Anders,” he says. “His father’s Bryan Anders. That lawyer who gets every drunk driver, wife beater, and rich asshole off clean.” He swears again, louder this time. “Fucking hell. Of course it’s that piece of shit’s kid.”
Cassie returns, mug in hand.
She sets it down on the bench in front of Skylar, then looks at Rainer. “What do we do?”
Rainer doesn’t answer. Not yet. His eyes are still on Skylar. On the way, she’s shaking.
Then they shift to me.
And I know what he’s thinking.
It’s the same thing as I am.
This isn’t over. Not even close.
Rainer studies me for a long second, his eyes unreadable, before dropping to my hands.
The second he sees the fresh blood on my knuckles, his expression shifts.
He expected better. He hoped I’d learned something from all the times he told me to think before I swing.
“Zane,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “Tell me you fucking didn’t.”
I hold his stare. My chest is still heaving, but my voice comes out calm.
“He had his fucking hands on her.”
Cassie kneels in front of Skylar, offering her the mug.
Rainer lets out a long, exhausted sigh and scrubs a hand down his face.
“You should’ve called the cops.”
Cassie stands, her arms folded across her chest, her chin lifted in a challenge.
“Which is exactly why I called Zane.”
“Yeah,” he mutters finally, rubbing the back of his neck, “and now the cops are gonna do what they have to.”
Silence stretches.
The workshop hums faintly with the buzz of overhead lights, the tick of the clock on the far wall the only thing keeping time.
Everything else feels suspended, caught in the aftermath.
And I want to burn the whole fucking town to the ground.
For letting this happen, for raising boys like Bryce and letting them grow into monsters.
Rainer’s voice finally cuts through the silence. “You need to clean your hands.”
I glance down to see that the blood is already drying. Proof of what I did and what I’d do again in a heartbeat.
Then there’s a sound.
Faint at first, like a whisper.
A siren.
It slices through the stillness, building fast, shrieking louder with every breath.
The high-pitched whine ricochets off the steel beams and oil-stained walls until it feels like the workshop itself is holding its breath, waiting for impact.
Cassie’s head snaps up. Her mouth opens, but no words come—just the fire in her eyes. The weight of the moment etched across her face.
Beside me, Skylar stiffens. Her fingers clamp around the mug.
The red and blue lights creep through the windows, washing the walls in short, pulsing flashes.
Rainer rushes to the window, his boots heavy against the floor. He doesn’t look at me when he speaks.
“They’re here for you, Zane.”
And fuck, if that doesn’t feel like the end of something.
I glance down at Skylar. I reach out, slow and careful, and tilt her chin up with two fingers.
“Are you okay?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
She nods, barely. Her eyes shine, and when they meet mine, something inside me snaps clean. Just a hollow crack down the middle of my chest.
Rainer steps forward.
“I’ll handle what I can,” he says, eyes flicking to the flashing lights outside. “But you need to know, kid…” He pauses, jaw tight. “You went after the wrong man’s son.”
I don’t care.
Not one fucking bit.
I’d do it again. Every swing. Because no one fucking touches Skyler and walks away breathing.
Rainer’s already moving. He throws a look over his shoulder at me, sharp and full of warning.
“Not a word, Zane. You let me handle it, you hear me?”
I nod.
He reaches the door, pauses just long enough to square his shoulders, then pulls it open in one smooth motion.
“Evening, officers,” he says, calm as ever. Polite. That easy going tone he uses when he’s chatting shit with the parts supplier or playing nice with customers who don’t know better.
Two cops stand just outside.
Badges gleaming. Their expressions are tight, unreadable, but there’s judgment in the set of their jaws.
One of them flips open a notepad. Scans something scribbled across the page.
“Zane Rivera?”
I lift my chin. “Yeah.”
The other one steps forward, voice flat. “You’re under arrest for assault.”
Skylar gasps beside me.
Cassie swears under her breath.
And I stand there and let it hit, let it settle.
Because deep down, I knew this was years in the making.
Every fight I picked.
Every time I let my fists speak louder than my mouth.
All the warnings Rainer gave me, I shrugged off. It was always leading here to this moment.
So I don’t argue. Don’t resist.
I just let them cuff me. Let them forcefully load me into the back seat, the door slamming shut behind me.
Skylar’s face flashes in my mind.
I press my head back against the seat, heart thudding.
Fuck.
I should have kissed her one last time.