Chapter 2 Confession 2 #3
He stalked closer, his eyes narrowing as he snatched the cig from my mouth and lifted it to his.
He lifted a brow in warning when I opened my mouth to curse him out for stealing my last one.
Slowly, I pressed my lips together and folded my arms, the leather of my jacket creaking.
He took a long drag, smoke billowing out in thick whirls between us before he finally spoke.
“You know these things will kill you,” he said, voice low, almost bored. His eyes held mine in the dark, unrelenting, and I felt the air around us shift heavier. When I didn't back away, Thorne crushed the cigarette with his boot, my head tilting back to glare up at him.
He let go of a long breath, his gaze never breaking from mine. Then he took my chin in his hand with a rough, slow chuckle and lifted his thumb to my bottom lip. “I wonder though, if Big Pharma tested cigarette deaths against Viktor Shaw’s estate—who would win?”
I wrenched my face from his grip, nostrils flaring. “Why am I with you tonight? I’m perfectly capable of going out on my own, or did you forget the haul I've brought you?”
He stared for an unnervingly long minute.
Then he said, "There's nothing you do that I forget, Arden.
" He sighed, adjusting his jacket, “Let’s go.” He turned and strode toward his bike without another glance.
I followed, clutching my lighter so hard the engraving dug crescents into my palm.
I didn't know what to make of what he said, whether I should be flattered or concerned.
Thorne swung onto his bike, the movement fluid, practiced. He looked back once, chin lifting, and I caught the glint of his eyes through the dark. “Well?”
I swallowed my pride and climbed onto the seat behind him. The second my hands brushed his sides, he revved the engine, the roar drowning my panicked heartbeat.
Then we were gone—the bike zipping into the streets.
The city blurred past in streaks of light and shadow, every bump in the road jolting me forward.
I kept my hands braced on the seat, stubborn even as the bike rattled beneath us.
Finally, Thorne’s arm shot back, his fingers clamping around my wrist. He tugged me hard against him, my chest colliding with his back.
“Where are we going?” I shouted over the engine, breath catching in my throat.
His head tilted slightly, but his eyes never left the road. “Somewhere we can talk.”
My fingers curled into the folds of his jacket, knuckles white. “We aren’t stealing a car?”
The only reply was the growl of the bike as he opened the throttle wider, the engine screaming as if it meant to carry us straight off the edge of the world.
We tore out past the last of the city lights, the neon bleeding into nothing, replaced by empty stretches of road and the glow of the moon on cracked asphalt.
The bike ate the distance, carrying us farther than I’d ever been allowed to go.
Wind clawed at my hair, whipped it into my face, but I barely noticed.
All I could think about was the solid weight of Thorne in front of me, the way every turn threw me tighter against him.
Eventually the skyline disappeared behind us, and the smell of smoke and oil gave way to dry grass and pine.
Thorne slowed, guiding the bike off the main road, down a dirt track rutted with old tire marks.
The trees closed in until we broke out into a clearing, the kind of nowhere place where even echoes forgot how to find you.
It was kind of beautiful, sure, but I was also a woman. Alone with a man. In the woods.
He killed the engine. Silence dropped hard, broken only by the tick of cooling metal.
“You can let go now, Arden,” he said, giving me a pointed look over his shoulder.
I hesitated, fingers tight around him, but I got off the bike and immediately found my lighter in my pocket, running my thumb over it and knowing if Thorne tried anything, I could burn him.
He swung off the bike with the same effortless control he had with everything.
Then he passed me without a word and walked to the lip of the overhang, boots crunching on fallen leaves.
The moon cut him in half, one side a knife of light, the other a length of shadow.
He settled on a flat rock that looked like it had been used as a meeting place a thousand times.
Empty beer bottles rolled in the dirt at his boots.
Crushed cigarette butts pooled in a little crescent like a black tide.
He planted his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, chin in his hands, the motion lazy but watchful. When he exhaled, his breath pooled across the night and toward the city lights. My grip loosened on my lighter a little bit as I watched him relax.
The clearing had a kind of honesty to it.
Just him and me and the sky so wide it made my problems feel small.
I climbed up onto the rock next to him, settling close enough that the arm of my jacket brushed his.
He looked at me once, the barest lift of his head, as if he was measuring what I might do next.
Then he settled back, patient. He was so calm.
He closed his eyes and tilted his face back to the moon, and I just… stared.
I traced the line of his scar with my gaze, the sharp cut of his profile against the pale glow above us.
His hair fell loose around his face, black and gleaming, and I had the sudden, dangerous want to touch him.
I held my breath and let the night press closer, let myself be swallowed by the fact that it wasn’t Viktor who owned that silence. It was Thorne.
Finally, after what felt like hours but what was only ten minutes or so, his eyes opened, and he looked over at me. His lips tilted into a small grin, his green eyes taking me in. “What’s your story, Arden?” he asked. “How’d you end up at Viktor’s?”
No one had ever asked me that before. Even Leah never asked. I think it was one of those things we all locked away. It was hard to talk about where we came from, because it just reinstituted where we were—and most of us did everything in our power not to think about that.
When I didn’t answer, Thorne waved a hand as if to erase his question. “No. Actually, tell me why you haven’t left.”
That one was easier. “Leah,” I said simply. I could’ve ridden away during one of our theft missions, but I couldn’t. “She’s like a sister and Viktor knows. He makes sure she’s never on the same missions as me.”
Thorne ran his hand over his mouth and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like Viktor.”
I eyed him. “Why don’t you run?”
“Kane,” he said with ease, surprising me.
“Kane Creed?” I asked, sitting up. “Rafe Creed’s right hand?”
Thorne rolled his eyes. “Yup.” Then seeing my confusion he shrugged. “He isn’t like a brother. The bastard is my brother.”
My mouth fell open. “You’re serious?” I asked.
Thorne smirked at the disbelief in my voice. “Dead serious. Same father, different mothers. Doesn’t matter, though. In Viktor’s house, blood isn’t thicker than anything. It’s just another leash.”
I leaned back on my hands, staring at him in the dim wash of moonlight.
I could see the resemblance. They had the same color eyes, even though I’d never really been close enough to Kane to be sure.
That was on purpose. Since they both arrived at the estate, Kane was named a ‘Creed’, shaped in Rafe’s image, but continued on his track of being more brutal.
If you wanted peace in Viktor's estate, you stayed the fuck away from Kane.
Thorne was…nothing like that. He wasn’t as strict or pristine as Rafe. Hell, Rafe never even talked. Never. I didn’t know why. No one did. Although, Kane talked enough for them both. But Thorne was lighter than them. Not by much, but it was clear he wasn’t a Creed.
“Why didn’t you train with Kane?” I asked him. "When you guys got here, I remember how Kane took to the courtyard immediately, and you just…didn't. Most boys are forced to. I always wondered why you weren't."
Thorne huffed out a laugh, dry and humorless.
“You have to be invited, Arden, and when you are, it’s not a choice.
I guess the rules are different for the boys in the house, but we all have to find a way to sell ourselves.
Kane’s always been a fighter. The decision for him was simple.
He was destined for the courtyard, but he also knew he would never beat Rafe.
It was dumb luck that Rafe somehow convinced Viktor to let him train Kane to be a backup of sorts, another brutal product.
I didn’t get roped into it. I know too much about stealing to be wasted on brute force. ”
I frowned. "So you stay for Kane?"
Thorne nodded solemnly.
I thought about Leah waiting back at the estate, how her absence was the weight tied to my ankles every time the road opened up.
For the first time, I realized maybe none of us stayed just for fear or conditioning.
We stayed because we couldn’t cut free without taking the people we loved down with us.
“I don’t think it will last though. Me not being in the courtyard,” he said, snapping me from my thoughts, his expression grim. “Viktor will figure it out soon enough.”
I frowned. “Figure what out?”
He curved his body toward me, his eyes finding mine. “I’d make him a lot more money if I was stealing from his clients, not from the streets. You, too.”
I shivered. “Me?”