Chapter 50
Chapter
Fifty
KADE
"Hey!"
Jules corners me, backing me into the old lockers while I'm on my way to Fallon's class. I dragged myself into school today and this is about to be the real test—seeing her, not touching her, pretending she didn't rip my fucking heart out and stomp on it.
"What the fuck?" The words come out harsher than I mean them to, but Jules doesn't take the hint. Doesn't even flinch.
She presses into me, all perfume and desperation, her body crowding mine against the cold metal. "Come on, Kade. You know you want me." Her voice drops, trying for seductive and landing somewhere around pathetic.
Her hand runs over my chest and every muscle in my body locks up. Wrong touch. Wrong person. Wrong fucking everything. My skin crawls where she touches me, rejecting the contact on some fundamental level.
I grab her wrist, stopping the movement before it goes any lower. My grip is probably too tight but I don't give a shit. "Don't touch me."
"Kade—" She tries to lean closer, apparently mistaking my warning for playing hard to get.
"Look, I was trying to be nice, but you're testing my patience, Jules." I meet her eyes, making sure she hears every word. "I don't want to fuck you. Not now. Not ever. Got it?"
She pouts, bottom lip jutting out like that's supposed to make me change my mind.
Like I'm supposed to find it cute or irresistible or whatever the fuck she thinks that expression accomplishes.
I can't fucking stand when girls pout, like being pretty means they get whatever they want.
Before I can tell her to back the fuck off and find someone who gives a shit, she's being ripped away from me.
"Put that fucking lip away and find someone who actually wants you. Have some self-respect for once in your life."
Fallon.
My Fallon, standing there with fire in her eyes, looking like she's two seconds from throwing hands with a student.
Her chest heaves with barely controlled anger, fingers still curled from where she grabbed Jules.
The professional mask she usually wears is completely gone, replaced by something raw and possessive.
I can't believe my fucking eyes.
I look around fast—nobody's close enough to see our teacher going feral on a student, thank fuck—and turn back to the scene unfolding in front of me. This hallway is mostly empty between classes, just a few stragglers too absorbed in their phones to notice the drama.
"Oh my god, what the fuck?" Jules squeals, stumbling backward and nearly tripping over her own feet. Her voice pitches high, indignant. "You can't touch me like that! What's wrong with you? I could report you!"
I step between them, backing Fallon away from Jules and toward the closest door. My body moves on instinct—protect, separate, contain the situation before someone sees and this becomes a whole fucking mess. Before Jules does something stupid like make good on that threat.
"Get the fuck out of here, Jules." The growl in my voice leaves no room for argument. "Now. Before I'm not nice about it."
Jules opens her mouth, probably to argue or threaten again, thinks better of it when she sees my face—whatever expression I'm wearing right now—and storms off down the hallway. Her footsteps echo too loud in the empty corridor, indignant little clicks of heels against tile.
I turn Fallon away from the retreating figure, spot a door marked STORAGE, and push it open. She stumbles inside and I follow, closing us in darkness before finding the light switch.
The fluorescent bulb flickers on, casting harsh light over shelves of supplies and cleaning equipment. The space smells like bleach and dust. Barely enough room to move without bumping into something.
I push Fallon against the door, hands on either side of her head, caging her in. "What's going on with you?"
"I don't want her touching you, you’re mine." Her voice is fierce, possessive, nothing like the cold distance from days ago when she told me she didn't want me. When she said we were done and I needed to leave her alone. This woman in front of me—angry and jealous and mine—she's the real one.
"But..." My brain can't keep up with the shift. "You said—"
"I know what I said, but I didn't mean it. I had to say that. Fuck." She ducks under my arm and starts pacing back and forth in the cramped space like a caged animal, three steps one way, pivot, three steps back. Her hands shake at her sides.
The bell rings, signaling the start of class. The shrill sound penetrates through the door but I don't care. Couldn't give less of a fuck about school right now. I need her to explain because I have no fucking idea what's going on, what changed between then and right now.
"Fallon."
She stops mid-pace. "Don't call me that."
"What? Why?" My hands spread wide, confusion making my movements sharp. "It's your name."
"You call me Peaches." Her eyes are desperate, pleading, wet with unshed tears. "Don't stop calling me that. Please don't stop."
Something in my chest cracks open. The wall I've been building since she pushed me away crumbles to nothing. I reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to me. Her eyes shine with tears, catching the harsh fluorescent light and making them look almost silver.
"Peaches." The word comes out soft, careful, like I'm handling something fragile. "Please tell me what's going on. I can't help if I don't understand."
She puts her head against my chest and starts crying. Real crying, the kind that shakes her whole body and soaks through my shirt. The kind that makes my heart clench because she's hurting and I don't know how to fix it yet.
"I'm sorry. I had to break it off. He said Daniel had stuff on you and the MC to put you in jail." The words come out broken between sobs. "He said if I didn't stay away from you, Daniel would use it. That you'd go to prison because of me."
What the fuck?
"Who?" I grip her shoulders, pulling back to see her face. "Who told you that?"
"I don't know. I've never seen him before, but he was scary.
" She wipes at her tears with shaking hands, mascara streaking across her fingers.
"He was tall, really tall, with these cold eyes.
Like he'd kill you and not lose sleep over it.
Not even think about it twice. He spoke English but with a strong accent.
Mexican, I think. He wore an expensive suit but moved like...
like violence was natural to him. Like hurting people was just part of his day. "
Fuck.
That sounds like someone from the cartel.
Maybe someone working for Damián. The description fits half a dozen sicarios I've seen around when we meet with them.
It doesn't make sense though, when I talked to Damián after the honeymoon and told him to hold off on Daniel for now, he seemed on board with everything.
Something isn't right. My jaw clenches so hard my teeth grind together.
"I need to ask Damián or ángel if they know anything about this.
Find out who the fuck is threatening you. "
"Is it true?" She looks up at me, mascara tracking down her cheeks in dark rivers. "Does Daniel have dirt on you? On the MC?"
I shake my head. "Not on me specifically. On the club." I cup her face, forcing her to hold my gaze, wanting her to see the truth. "But I had a plan. I was working on it. You didn't have to push me away. We could have handled this together."
"I was scared." Her voice breaks on the words, cracks right down the middle. "I couldn't let you go to prison because of me. I couldn't be the reason you lost everything."
And fuck, it pisses me off and makes me love her even more if that's even possible—that she cares enough about me to try to save me even when it destroys her.
Even when it tears her apart to do it. No woman has ever cared about me like that.
Not since Mom. No one's ever chosen to hurt themselves to protect me.
I lift her chin, looking into those wet eyes. "I love you."
She makes an adorable hiccup sound, still crying. "I love you too."
I dip my head down and kiss her, needing to feel her mouth on mine, needing the connection. She hisses against my mouth and I pull back fast, studying her. Something's wrong.
That's when I see it.
First the split on her lip. Small but visible, the kind of cut that comes from teeth hitting soft tissue.
Then I lift her chin higher, angling her face toward the light, and notice the bruise on her cheek.
Makeup covers most of it—foundation and concealer carefully applied—but I know what to look for now.
The slight discoloration, the flinch when I touch near it.
Rage like I've never felt fills me, hot and violent and absolute. It burns through my veins, makes my vision go red at the edges.
"Motherfucker." The word comes out as a growl, barely human.
"What did he do to you?" My hands shake as I trace the air around the bruise, not touching, terrified of hurting her more. "Did he..."
I can't finish that question. Can't say the words out loud because if the answer is yes, I'm going to fucking lose it right here. Going to tear this school apart and then find Daniel and make him suffer for hours before I let him die.
"No." She grabs my wrist, holding tight. "He just slapped me. That's it. I swear that's all it was."
"That's it?" A laugh barks out of me but nothing is fucking funny. Nothing about this is remotely amusing. "I'm going to fucking kill that piece of shit. Going to make him bleed for every second he’s made you scared."
I start moving, opening the door. My vision tunnels—get to Daniel, end this, make him pay for every mark on her skin. For the split lip and the bruise and the fear in her eyes. For making her think she had to protect me by breaking her own heart.
"Please." Her hand catches my arm, stopping me.
I shut the door and turn back to her, forcing myself to breathe through the rage.
"Go to class." The words come out clipped, controlled. Barely holding it together.
"I'm supposed to go to dinner with him tonight." She looks terrified, small in a way I've never seen her.
"Not anymore." I step closer, crowding her against the shelves. "You're not going anywhere near that motherfucker ever again. Teach, and then go straight home. Do you understand me?"
"What are you—"
"Do you understand me, Peaches?" My voice drops lower, dangerous.
"Yeah." She nods quickly. "Yeah, I understand."
"Good." I press my lips to hers, so soft I barely make contact, terrified of hurting her. Of putting pressure on the split or the bruise. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"
"Okay. Please be careful." Her fingers curl into my shirt. "Don't do anything stupid."
"I will. I promise." The lie tastes bitter but necessary.
I kiss her one more time and then leave her there, closing the storage room door behind me. My hands shake with barely controlled violence.
I don't go to class. Don't even pretend to head that direction. I head straight for the parking lot, pulling out my phone as I walk, boots echoing too loud on the tile floor.
Time to end this shit once and for all.