Chapter 10
Reaper
Gabby’s voice was all sugar when she leaned in. “Pres, can I talk to you?”
I kept my eyes on Lucy for a half-second longer than I should have before I answered, “Yeah.”
For a moment, I thought she’d look back. She didn’t, but I did. She left me standing there like my words meant nothing. Like I wasn’t Reaper. I was just Jay again, the boy she used to know and had walked away from once before. And damn it, that hurt deeper than any blade.
Gabby was still talking, her words sharp and syrupy all at once, but they slid right past me. My focus was on Lucy’s back as she walked away, her head high, her armour nailed in place.
I let her go—hell, I had to—but the weight in my chest didn’t ease, and no amount of Gabby’s chatter filled the space Lucy left behind.
Gabby pushed closer, the scent of her perfume hitting before she did. “What’s she doing here, Jay? The sister, walking around like she’s one of us.”
“She’s here because I said she could be.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t notice? The way you watch her like—”
“Like what?” My voice was sharp enough to make her hesitate.
Her jaw tightened. “Like she’s more than just some grieving sister poking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I let the silence stretch, long enough for her to squirm. “You worried she’s replacing you?”
Colour rose in her cheeks. “I don’t like her, and I don’t like her here.”
I stepped in, close enough to feel her breath on my face. “Gabby, you’re not here to like how this place is run. You’re fun, that’s all. You know the score. Don’t mistake the game for a promise, and don’t ever mistake pillow talk for club business.”
We stared each other down. She cracked first.
“One day, you’ll regret letting her in.” She spun on her heel.
I didn’t bother watching her go. My gaze had already slid to the end of the hallway, where a shadow shifted just out of reach of the light.
The clubhouse was loud enough to drown thought, laughter too sharp, music too loud, smoke too thick. I stormed out to the bar, desperate for a drink to take the edge off, but something caught my eye.
Lucy slipped out the front doors. Her shoulders were stiff and her chin high, but her steps were too quick, like she was running from something she didn’t want anyone to see.
I followed.
The night hit cold, a slap of oil and smoke on the wind. Gravel crunched under my boots as I rounded the corner of the clubhouse. She was there, half-hidden in the glow of a streetlamp.
“Running already?” I asked, leaning against the brick like it was nothing. My voice came out rough, sharper than I meant. “Thought Kane blood burned hotter than that.”
Her head snapped up, eyes red and blazing through her tears. “Go to hell, Jay. You’ve been shoving me out since the day before I left. Maybe you’d be happier if I never came back. You wanna throw me out of your life again?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
She gave a short, bitter laugh that cracked in the middle. “Of course. Caleb’s gone, so why the hell would you want me here? Just one more Kane to disappoint you.”
That broke something in me. My chest locked, breath stalling. “You think you disappoint me?” I stepped closer. “Christ, Lucy, you’ve been under my skin since we were kids. That’s the damn problem.”
Her lips parted, eyes shining, and for a heartbeat, she looked ready to spit fire back, but it broke into a sob instead. She pressed her fist against her mouth, shaking hard and dropping to the ground.
“I can’t do this. I thought I was strong enough, but I’m not. He’s gone, Jay. Caleb’s... gone.”
And like that, the fire burned out.
My knees gave way, and I lowered myself beside her against the wall. For a long moment, I didn’t touch her because my own hands weren’t steady.
“I never cried for him,” I admitted, staring at the gravel. “Not once. Not even when I pulled his kutte off. I thought if I stayed cold, I could hold it all together. The club. Myself. Everything. But all I did was bury it, same as we buried him.”
Lucy’s head lifted, tears cutting bright tracks down her cheeks. “You loved him.”
“More than I can say.” My throat closed, but it didn’t stop the sting. Didn’t stop the tear that slipped free.
Her hand slid into mine, steadying its shake. “Then you didn’t let him down. You loved him. That’s what matters.”
I squeezed back, harder than I meant to, because if I let go, I’d come apart completely. “Then why does it feel like I lost both of you?”
Her breath hitched, and then she leaned into me, forehead against my chest, and I let her.
We sat there in the dark, two wrecks held together by grief. Her tears soaked into my kutte, and mine fell quietly into her hair.
Not President. Not fire. Just two people gutted by the same ghost.
For the first time since Caleb died, I let myself grieve.