Chapter twenty eight
Nadia
“Istill don’t see the need for this.” I cross my arms, staring at the house before me.
I had been dragged to the Phantom’s clubhouse on the West side. The place where Riven lived with his two closest friends, Shane and Skylar. Apparently, tonight was game night, where they got together once a month with Delia.
I, Nadia Slade, a member of the LBC and the right hand of Clive Spencer, was on enemy territory, about to face the leader of said enemy. All because I was fucking around with a Phantom when I knew I wasn’t supposed to.
Riven had been subtly dropping hints here and there about wanting to reveal our secret to his friends.
I’d shut him down every time. When he finally decided to ask me outright, I’d deny him again.
It irked me. Could he not see how stupid that was?
That I could be killed or forced to hurt someone he cared about?
Could he not see that if the cat was out of the bag, it’d be the end of us?
We’d gotten into a massive argument. It was so bad that we hadn’t been speaking for the past two weeks.
Riven hated rejection. Even worse, he hated not getting his way, but so did I.
I thought he’d finally come to his senses when he texted me tonight.
I thought he’d finally seen reason, saw that I was trying to protect us.
I’d been sorely mistaken. Because as soon as I got in his car, the handcuffs were back out. He’d cuff me against my will. Again. Not without getting a broken nose and a cut to the cheek first, though. Looking at his bloody and bruised face made me feel slightly better. Slightly.
When we arrived at the house, he helped me out of the car and uncuffed me. He ignored me, continuing his trek up the front steps.
“Silent treatment, really? You think that’s gonna make me walk into the lion’s den? Or is it haunted house? I never know with you, Phantoms.”
Furiously, he spun around and grabbed me by my biceps, leaning down so we were eye to eye.
“Make another sarcastic comment. I dare you. Test me and see what happens, daredevil.”
“I thought ghosts were supposed to be scary.” I grin as his jaw tightens, but fortunately- or maybe unfortunately, since I am still in enemy territory- the front door swings open, saving me from his wrath. For now.
“What the hell is taking you so long? Are we playing or what?” A feminine voice calls out.
Skylar Bennett doesn’t see me at first, Riven’s body blocking me, but I do see her.
She’s dressed in black yoga pants and a white sweater that falls off her shoulder.
Her blue hair is piled on top of her head, her two white front pieces still loose on her face.
Riven moves away, exposing me, and she goes pale.
A million emotions explode across her expressive face.
Terror being the first one. I can’t help but feel a little pride at that, knowing I can invoke such fear in an enemy.
She moves on to confusion, back to fear, before she settles on an emotion we’re all acquainted with. Anger.
“What the fuck is this LBC scum doing here?”
She rushes out of the house, coming directly for yours truly. Riven doesn’t even bother to intercept her, just gives me a look that says don’t hurt her. I could roll my eyes at that. I was getting attacked, yet I had to hold back. Whatever.
The moment she’s within reach, she swings at me, but I quickly duck.
That’s the extent of this little altercation.
She goes on the offense while I’m pulling back.
I find it strange that I have no real anger towards her in that moment.
Normally, I’d be ready to beat the shit outta her, but I actually find myself not wanting to hurt her.
Because she matters to him. Because I lo-no.
Don’t say it. Don’t think it. Don’t feel it. You can’t cross that line.
“Where the fuck is my knife?” She groans, exasperated as she feels around for her knife. Just to piss her off, I grab my own knife from out of my boot.
“Never start a fight you aren’t armed to finish. Didn’t the Phantoms teach you that?” I grin.
“Fuck you, LBC whore.” She snarls and grabs a rock.
Just as we’re about to go for each other, hands circle my hips, pulling me back. In front of me, Skylar is being dragged away by her cousin, Shane, who’s dressed in grey sweats and a blue tee.
“Drop it!” He reaches for the rock she’s holding.
“Let me go!” She kicks her feet.
“Easy, daredevil,” Riven whispers in my ear, and I feel the tension leave my body. I sheathe my knife and tuck it back safely in my boot.
“Thank you.” He adds, but I ignore it, eyes focused on the newcomers.
Both of them. Behind Shane, Delia emerges in the doorway.
She’s dressed in distressed bellbottoms, a graphic tank top, a sheer black cardigan, and cowboy boots that look like they’ve curb stomped a person or two.
I’ve only ever seen pictures of Callahan, and he looked a lot like Pop.
But Abby looks a lot like her grandmother; the eyes are the same.
The only difference is that Delia’s got mid-length dirty blonde hair that’s streaked with grey in the front, and Abby’s got red hair, like all Spencer women.
“You’re Clive’s girl.” Smoke billows from her mouth. I fight the urge to tell her she’s the same. Or used to be.
“Good to know my reputation has made its way to the West side.” I say instead. She smirks, flicking her cigarette bud away.
“Yes, we’ve all heard stories about Nadia Slade. The ice queen. The heartless bitch who cut out a man’s heart, froze it, and shipped it back to his wife. All because he looked at her funny.”
The man was a Kingsmen bastard who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.
We were at the diner- Abby, Isla, and I- and he cornered Isla when she stepped outside to grab something from Abby’s car.
She came back, angry tears in her eyes, and when he walked back in looking so fucking smug, I lost it.
Deck was in jail at the time, doing a stint for aggravated assault of all things.
He got out in a few months; the laws here in Stonebridge were abysmal.
I decided to give the bastard a taste of his own medicine.
It was his turn to be cornered, to be violated, to be the victim.
I don’t regret my actions whatsoever. In my eyes, it was justice well served.
“What I wanna know is why you’re trespassing?” She cocks her hip, eyes narrowed.
“I wanna know the same thing,” I say low enough for only Riven to hear. His nostrils flare, eyes promising retribution.
“I brought her.” He slings his arm over my shoulder, pulling me in close.
“Why?” Shane questions, rubbing his jaw. My eyes stay on Delia, watching as she figures it out.
“Because she’s mine.”
_____
You couldn’t cut the tension in the room if you tried.
After what felt like a lifetime of silence, Riven led me inside, pulled out a chair for me at their table, and started shuffling cards.
Shane and Skylar reluctantly joined us while Delia excused herself.
She went upstairs and came back down two minutes later, strutting right out the front door with a whole pack of cigarettes in her hand.
Silently, we played rummy. There were poker nights between the gangs every weekend in the high school gym.
Stakes there were high. Money, cars, drugs, and even favors were all on the line.
The gangs of Stonebridge hated each other’s guts with a passion, but we were just as competitive.
We were on the fifth game when Shane finally spoke up.
“You’re outta your fucking mind.” The card in my hand stills midair. Riven doesn’t look up.
“Yeah?”
“You brought her here?” Shane gestures toward me like I’m something contagious.
“Into our house?”
“Relax.” Riven picks up a card from the deck, throwing a seven of hearts.
“Relax?” Skylar snaps, slamming her cards on the table.
“She could’ve come here to scope the place. To set us up. Do you have any idea how stupid this is?” She stresses. My lips twitch.
“Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be arguing about it.”
“Shut the fuck up.” She sneers.
“Make me.” I throw right back at her.
Her chair scrapes loudly against the floor as she stands again, but Shane grabs her arm this time before she can move.
“Sit down.” He mutters.
Riven finally looks up, eyes flicking between them before landing on me. There’s something sharp there. It’s a warning. It’s possession. Mine. The word hangs unspoken in the air again, heavier this time. Shane exhales slowly, dragging a hand down his face.
“Since when?” Riven doesn’t hesitate.
“A while.”
“How long is ‘a while’?” Shane volleys.
“A while.” Riven retorts stubbornly.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.” Skylar lets out a hollow laugh.
“You’ve been sneaking around with her ,” She gestures at me again.
“And you thought we just… didn’t need to know?” Skylar is clearly aggravated. Riven shrugs, leaning back in his chair like this is nothing. Like he didn’t just drop a grenade into the room.
“Didn’t feel like explaining it.”
“No,” Shane says, quieter now. More dangerous.
“You didn’t feel like thinking.” That lands.
I see it in the way Riven’s jaw tightens. In the way his fingers flex once against the table before going still again. Good. Let them fight. Maybe they’ll knock some sense into him.
“This isn’t some girl from across town.” Shane continues.
“This is LBC. This is Clive’s right hand. If this gets out-”
“It won’t.” Riven arrogantly assures, as if he can control what happens. Like he can handle what’ll happen if this gets out. When it gets out.
“You don’t know that,” Shane argues, trying to make him see reason.
“I do.”
“You don’t .” Skylar cuts in, voice rising again.
“Because you don’t get to control everything, Riven. Not this. Not her.” Silence drops again. Slowly, his gaze shifts to her. Cold.
“You’re right,” he says. That throws all of us off. Even me. Skylar blinks.
“What?”