Chapter 50
Lucy
The air in the clubhouse was heavy, restless. I sat on the sofa with Maria while Jay and half the brothers lounged in the bar, resting up for the big run, when the door banged open.
Gabby.
Her hair was wild, lipstick non-existent, eyes bright with something unhinged, and in her hand, glinting under the neon light, was a knife.
My stomach dropped, and I stood up, facing her. I put a hand on Maria’s shoulder to keep her seated and behind me.
“There she is,” Gabby hissed, eyes locking on me. “The little princess who thinks she can waltz in here and take what’s mine.”
I stepped forward slowly, every eye in the room snapping to me, to her, to the blade.
Jay’s voice was lethal quiet as he stood up slowly. “Gabby. Put. It. Down.”
She didn’t. She lunged.
The world snapped sharp and instinct took over. My hand shot out, catching her wrist, slamming it against the bar so hard, the knife clattered to the floor. She swung at me with her other hand, nails raking down my arm, but I drove my knee into her gut and sent her sprawling across the floorboards.
Gasps echoed throughout the room.
Gabby scrambled up, blood dripping from her lip, wild fury in her eyes.
She charged again, and I met her halfway, my fist snapping across her jaw.
She staggered, but I didn’t let up. My boot slammed into her shin, and when she doubled over, I caught her hair and smashed her face against the wall. She crumpled, gasping.
I yanked her up by the shirt, pinning her hard. My hand locked around her throat, pressing until her breath came in ragged gasps. Her nails clawed at my wrist, useless.
I leaned closer, but my voice was loud enough for the whole room to hear. “Don’t flatter yourself, Gabby. You thought he was yours? You were only keeping the sheets warm. You were never his, but he is mine.”
Riot’s voice carried across the bar, and I could hear the smile in it. “Guess that answers it. She’s his old lady now, whether she knows it or not.”
I slammed her back once more, hard enough that the wood rattled. “I told you last time you came at me to stay down. You didn’t listen. That was your mistake.” My fist connected with her cheek.
Then a voice broke the silence, from a prospect near the back. “I... I saw her do that before. A week ago, in the bathroom. Gabby went at her, and Lucy put her down.”
Jay’s head snapped towards him, ice in his eyes. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“She...” The kid swallowed hard. “She told me not to.”
Every eye swung to me. My pulse pounded, but I lifted my chin. “Because I asked him not to. I didn’t want—”
“You don’t give orders here,” Jay roared, his voice shaking the walls. His fury was volcanic, aimed at me but burning everything in its path. “I’m the President, not you. Don’t you ever forget it.”
I froze as the weight of his words pressed hard into my chest.
Then Jay turned on Gabby. He hauled her up by the arm and threw her to the floor in front of the bar. She landed hard, coughing.
“You should’ve stayed gone,” he said. “I threw you out once. You came back. You pulled a blade on my brothers, on my guest.” His jaw flexed. “You’re done.”
Riot stepped forward, arms crossed. “She’s too dangerous. No loyalty. No respect. She’s out.”
One by one, the brothers nodded. No dissent. No hesitation.
Jay crouched low in front of Gabby, his voice a whisper only she and the closest of us could hear. “If I see you near this clubhouse again, if you so much as breathe in Lucy’s direction, they won’t find enough left of you to bury. Do you understand?”
Her defiance wavered, and for the first time, she looked afraid.
He dropped her arm and stood tall. “You’re no longer welcome in Dead Knights territory, no protection, no ties. You’re excommunicated. Get her out of my sight.”
Two prospects grabbed her, dragging her towards the door as she spat curses and promises of revenge, but her voice shook. When the doors slammed behind her, silence reigned.
Jay’s eyes swept the room, daring anyone to speak. No one did.
But when Jay’s gaze locked on mine, the fury there burned deeper than anything aimed at Gabby, and I knew I was about to pay.
The door slammed behind us, the echo still rattling my bones. Jay’s kutte hit the chair, but he didn’t sit. He paced, shoulders tight, storm barely held back.
“You made me look blind in front of my men,” he bit out. “Like I don’t even know what happens under my own roof.”
I swallowed hard. “I handled it.”
“Handled it?” His fist slammed the table, the crack like a gunshot. “You think this is just about you? Every time you hide something, every time you make me look like the last to know, it rips into my patch, into my word. That’s the one thing I can’t afford, Lucy. Not once. Not ever.”
The anger wasn’t about weakness, I realised. It was about power. About the weight of being president.
My voice came out smaller than I’d meant. “I didn’t want to be another problem you had to fix.”
He stopped pacing. His eyes burned, not softer but sharper. “If I lose you because you thought you had to carry this alone...” His jaw flexed, voice breaking for a second, “I won’t survive it.”
My chest squeezed tight. He wasn’t only furious—he was terrified.
“You think you can stand in this world without me?” he yelled, stepping closer.
My lips parted, truth spilling before I could stop it. “No. I think I can stand in it with you.”
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The truth sat between us, jagged and dangerous.
His chest rose hard, fire still in his eyes, but the kind that burned lower now, dark and hungry. A crooked smirk tugged at his lips, and the anger twisting through me sparked into heat.
“You can stand with me, Luce,” he said. “You know what else you can do?”
I crossed my arms, defiance battling the rush in my veins. “What?”
“Strip.”
The word hit like a match to dry tinder. My pulse jumped, fury curdling into need.
“Jay—”
“Now.” His hands stayed shoved in his pockets, but the command in his voice pressed harder than any touch.
I hesitated for one breath, maybe two, then I hooked trembling fingers into the hem of his shirt I’d stolen, peeled it slow, let it drop. The joggers slid off next, pooling at my ankles.
Bare before him, my heart pounding so loud it drowned the silence, I let his eyes devour every inch of me.
Jay didn’t move at first. He looked, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of skin I’d exposed. His gaze dragged down me like a torch, hot enough to make my knees weak.
Then he was on me. His mouth crashed against mine, rough and hungry, and I met him with teeth, tongue, need. My back slammed into the dresser, the wood biting into my spine. His hands were everywhere at once, rough palms skimming my ribs, cupping my ass, fingers digging hard enough to leave marks.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he growled against my lips. “Every damn second, I want more.”
“Then take it,” I dared, breathless.
His answering growl vibrated through me.
He spun me, bent me over the dresser, chest pressed against my back, pinning me there with his weight.
One big hand clamped at the base of my neck, claiming.
The other slid between my thighs, and I gasped, arching into him, need unravelling my anger into something hotter.
“Wet already,” he muttered, low and rough, dragging his fingers through me. “You fucking love it.”
I shivered, clutching the edge of the dresser, pulse wild.
He didn’t waste time. Jeans shoved down, a breath against my ear, then he drove into me with one hard thrust that stole my voice.
I cried out, my body stretching, burning, then clenching tight around him. He filled me completely, relentless as his hips slammed into mine, the wood rattling beneath us.
Every thrust forced a gasp, a moan, a broken plea. His hand tightened on my neck, his other gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, dragging me back to meet his pace.
“Look at you,” he rasped, his breath hot against my ear. “Taking me so deep... fuck.”
The words sent sparks down my spine. My body clenched tighter, chasing release, every nerve screaming for it.
“Jay—” My voice cracked, begging before I even knew what I was asking for.
He bent me lower, his chest flattening me against the dresser, and fucked me harder. The rhythm was unrelenting, each thrust hitting a spot that shattered me. My cry echoed off the walls as my climax tore through me, white-hot and violent, leaving my legs shaking.
He groaned and thrust deep, grinding into me as his own release broke. His whole body shuddered against mine, a guttural sound spilling from his throat as he pulsed inside me.
We collapsed together against the dresser, both gasping, slick with sweat, hearts racing like we’d fought another war.
After a long moment, he pressed his forehead between my shoulder blades, breath still uneven. His hand slid from my neck down to lace with mine on the dresser.
Quiet. Rough. Almost broken, he murmured. “Don’t make me watch you burn alone, Luce.”
My eyes closed, chest heaving, I squeezed his hand back. “Then don’t let go.”