FORTY FIVE
T he sky above was bruised with heavy clouds, rolling and churning like the thoughts that stormed inside Poison’s mind. Thunder rumbled in the distance, not yet near, but ominous, promising the arrival of something darker. The air felt thick, charged, as if the sky itself was holding its breath.
She and Scorpion walked side by side through the park, their footsteps muffled by the dirt path beneath them. She had suggested the walk to clear their heads, to shake off the tension that had been simmering between them all night. But the silence that stretched between them felt heavier than anything either of them could say. His usual swagger was absent, replaced by a quiet that unsettled her more than any argument could.
The wind picked up, stirring the trees around them, sending leaves dancing across their path. She glanced over at him, trying to read his expression, but his face was set, his eyes distant as if he were somewhere far away.
She was about to ask him what was wrong when he suddenly stopped, his body tensing. “I just remembered,” he said, his voice flat. “I have to see my boss about something.”
She turned to face him, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Yamatochi?” Her mind immediately flashed back to the sleek town car that had nearly run her over.
His expression shifted, hardening, and there was something in his eyes that she had never seen before—fear. Real fear. It was a look that didn’t belong on his face, a look that twisted something deep inside her.
He didn’t answer her question. Instead, he took a step back, his eyes scanning the park as if they were being watched. The air crackled with the approaching storm, the wind picking up again, more insistent this time, whipping her hair around her face. “Forget you ever met him,” he said, his voice clipped and distant. It was an order, not a suggestion, the kind of tone he only used when something was seriously wrong.
“What do you mean, forget him?” she stepped closer, grabbing his arm. “Scorpion, what aren’t you telling me?”
He looked down at her hand on his arm, then back up at her, and for a moment, his expression softened. But it was brief, gone before she could really grasp it. “I have to go,” he said quietly, almost to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind. He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, but the tenderness felt forced, mechanical. “Walk safely.”
And then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps rapid and purposeful. She stood there, her heart pounding, watching as his figure disappeared into the shadows of the park, the dark clouds overhead swirling like the unanswered questions in her mind. A knot tightened in her chest with every step he took. What was he hiding? Why had his face twisted into that unfamiliar mask of fear when she mentioned Yamatochi? Nothing about the Japanese Mafia boss had rattled her—he was dangerous, yes, but they had an understanding. The bike he’d given her was proof of that, a gesture of respect. No strings attached, no favors owed.
She wanted to chase after him, to demand the answers he was so clearly withholding, but something stopped her—a deep, instinctual warning that whatever was waiting on the other side of those answers was not something she was ready to face.
Thunder rumbled again, louder this time, closer. The first drops of rain would fall soon. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shake off the sense of dread that had settled in her bones. Whatever storm was
brewing; it was coming for both of them.
And she had no idea if either of them would be ready when it hit.
Her mind raced as she walked alone, the darkness of the park closing in around her, the voices creeping into her mind. The air felt strange—still, tense—almost as if it was waiting for something.
The calm before the storm.
The pond came into view, its surface like glass, reflecting the bruised sky above. She leaned against the railing around it, her eyes drawn to the ripples of the water as her mind replayed Scorpion’s words over and over. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something much deeper was at play—something dangerous that she didn’t fully understand yet. Her chest tightened with worry for him, for both of them.
The sound of footsteps broke her from her thoughts. She spun around instinctively, muscles coiled and ready. Reaper stood behind her, his sinister grin sending a chill down her spine. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, full of a malice that immediately set her on edge.
“Lovely night for a walk, isn’t it?” his voice was mocking, dripping with dark amusement.
Her jaw clenched, her body moving into a defensive stance without hesitation.
“What do you want, Reaper?” she demanded, her voice low and steady, though her mind screamed with alarm.
He chuckled darkly, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. “Just thought I’d check on you,” he sneered, his gaze roving over her in a way that made her skin crawl. “Can’t let a pretty thing like you wander alone at night, now, can I?”
Her hands balled into fists, her pulse quickening. She wasn’t in the mood for his games. “Stay away from me,” she warned, her voice sharp.
But he didn’t listen. He lunged toward her, moving faster than she expected, his hand grabbing for her. This time, though, she was ready. Her fist connected with his face in a vicious punch, the sound cracking through the stillness of the night. He stumbled back, his hand flying to his cheek, his eyes wide with shock and fury.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, her voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins.
His face twisted with anger, his usual cocky demeanor replaced by something uglier, more dangerous. His eyes darkened, and in an instant, his rage boiled over. “Why you little bitch.”
Before she could react, his fist collided with her stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. Pain exploded through her, sending her crashing to the ground. She gasped, clutching her midsection, her mind racing to catch up with what had just happened.
“No!” she cried out, her voice breaking as she tried to push herself up. “Please, stop!” Desperation tinged her words, but she knew better than to expect mercy from him. Scorpion was too far away, and Gavin… she knew he wasn’t coming this time.
Reaper’s lips curled into a cruel smile as he loomed over her. “It’s too late for groveling,” he snarled, lifting his boot and driving it into her ribs.
She cried out in pain, rolling onto her side as she tried to shield herself from the next blow. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to focus. She couldn’t let him win. Not like this.
The first kick landed in her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs again. She gasped, but before she could even register the pain, a second strike hit her shoulder. Pain exploded through her body as her arm dislocated with a sickening pop. Her vision swimming as darkness began to creep at the edges of her mind. She barely registered the third kick to her head before everything went black.
The world faded away—gone was the thunder rumbling on the horizon, the wind whispering through the trees. In the void, there was nothing but silence.
When she finally started to come to, the pain slammed into her like a freight train, making her stomach churn. She lay there, dazed and disoriented, her body aching from all over. Footsteps echoed in the distance, and her breath hitched, terror licking at her senses like flames.
What if it was Reaper?
She forced herself to sit up, every movement agony. Her head spun, vision blurred, but she pushed through it, gritting her teeth against the pain. She reached for her dislocated shoulder, her fingers trembling as they wrapped around her arm. She knew what she had to do—there was no other choice. Her breath came in shallow, ragged bursts as she counted silently in her head.
One… two… three.
With a sharp, agonizing shove, she popped her shoulder back into place. A scream tore at her throat, but she swallowed it down, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. The world wavered around her, but she couldn’t afford to pass out again. She had to stay alert—had to be ready in case Reaper came back to finish the job.
The voices drew closer, and she tensed, her body coiled despite the agony coursing through her. But through the haze, she recognized them. Dennis and Gunnar. Relief flooded her, but it was tainted by the raw adrenaline still coursing through her veins.
“Poison!” Dennis’s voice rang out, sharp with alarm as he rushed toward her. She blinked, struggling to stay upright. Her body trembled violently, her muscles betraying her need to appear strong.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded, his eyes scanning her bruised and battered form with horror and concern.
She tried to speak, but her throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, the words sticking as she swallowed painfully. It took everything in her to form the words. “Reaper,” she rasped, the name dripping from her mouth like venom. Her eyes searched Dennis’, pleading for answers. “Where’s Scorpion?”
Gunnar stepped closer, his jaw clenched tight with barely contained fury. “He sent us,” Gunnar growled, his voice rough. “He wanted to make sure you got home safely… Looks like we were almost too fucking late.”
Her mind swirled, struggling to comprehend. Scorpion had sent them? Where was he? What could possibly be more important than being here with her?
Gunnar knelt beside her, his face darkening with anger as he gently assessed her injuries. His hands were careful, deliberate, but his eyes were hard as stone. “We need to get you out of here,” he said, voice rough. “Can you walk?”
She swallowed the pain down and nodded, even though her body screamed for her to stop. She would not show weakness, not now. With their help, she staggered to her feet, her legs shaking beneath her, each step an exercise in pure will. But she wasn’t about to let them see her break.
As they began to walk, the first streaks of lightning split the sky, briefly illuminating the park. The storm was drawing closer, the scent of rain in the air, though none had fallen yet. She focused on the rumble of thunder, using it to drown out the throbbing in her body.
Her thoughts drifted back to Scorpion, confusion wrapping itself around her. Where the fuck was he? Why wasn’t he the one helping her up, holding her steady?
“Hang in there, Poison,” Dennis said, his voice soft as he kept an arm around her for support. “We’ll get you patched up.”
But it wasn’t the injuries that haunted her as they limped through the darkening park. It was Scorpion’s absence, the questions that lingered, festering in the corners of her mind. Why did he send Gunnar and Dennis instead of coming himself? What had pulled him away?
And more importantly—would she be able to forgive him for not being there when she needed him most?
The first raindrop hit her face, cold and sharp, snapping her out of her thoughts. She took a deep breath, steeling herself as they made their way through the park. The storm was almost here.
The rain began to fall just as Gunnar pulled the car to the edge of the park, its soft patter barely audible over the storm brewing inside her head, the voices growing louder. The drops streaked down the windows like the thoughts racing through her mind—disjointed and relentless. She had been through worse before, but something about this night felt different. More dangerous. More fragile.
As they reached the car, she collapsed into the passenger seat with a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to block out the pain. It radiated through her body, a constant throb.
She barely registered Gunnar leaning in from the driver’s seat, his voice breaking through the haze. “I’ll drive, Den. You take my bike and find Scorpion.”
Dennis hesitated, his eyes flicking from Gunnar to her. His concern was almost palpable, but it made her feel… exposed. She wasn’t used to anyone looking at her like she was something that could break.
“Are you sure?” Dennis asked.
“Yes,” Gunnar snapped, his impatience obvious. “We need to find him before things get worse.”
Dennis nodded, his expression tight. He squeezed Poison’s hand briefly, his touch warm and grounding in a way she hadn’t expected. “I’ll bring him back,” he promised, his voice thick with something that sounded almost like guilt. “Just hang on.”
She watched through the blur of rain as Dennis mounted the bike, his silhouette disappearing into the night, swallowed by the storm. Gunnar slid behind the wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes hard as they locked on the road ahead.
“I’ll get you to the hospital,” he said, though she caught the edge of frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Scorpion’s a damn fool for leaving you alone with Reaper still running wild. A damn fucking fool.”
His words stung, cutting through the exhaustion that had settled deep in her bones. She winced, not just from the pain in her shoulder but from the sudden force of Gunnar’s anger. The care he was showing her felt foreign—almost unwelcome. It wasn’t that Gunnar had ever been heartless, but this level of concern… it wasn’t like him. It made her wonder.
“Why do you care so much all of a sudden?” she found herself asking, her voice quiet as she leaned her head back against the seat. The rain beat harder against the car; each drop a soft drumbeat that matched the throbbing in her head. “Why are you doing this?”
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his gaze softening for the briefest of moments before hardening again. “Because you’re one of us,” he replied, his tone flat but resolute. “I don’t let my people go down without a fight.”
She searched his face, searched for something more beneath the surface of his words. She wanted to believe him, but something still felt off, like there was something left unsaid. Was this really about her being one of the team, or was there more to it?
Gunnar’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he swerved through the slick, empty streets. His voice, when he spoke again, was gruff, as though he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “Scorpion’s always been reckless, but this… leaving you like that… it’s inexcusable.”
She swallowed hard, her chest tightening with anger and something she couldn’t quite name. Scorpion had always been protective, sometimes to a fault, but this
felt different. Why hadn’t he come back for her? Why send Dennis and Gunnar in his place?
“He’s trying to protect me,” she said, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them. Her voice wavered, doubt creeping into every syllable. “He thought he was doing the right thing.”
Gunnar didn’t respond right away, and the silence that followed felt heavier than the storm outside. She could hear the tires cutting through the wet streets, the distant rumble of thunder.
“Sometimes doing the ‘right thing’ means abandoning the people who need you the most,” Gunnar muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. “And sometimes it’s just an excuse for running away.”
She flinched at the truth in his words, though she didn’t want to admit it. She had always believed that Scorpion’s protectiveness came from a place of love, of loyalty. But now, as the rain fell harder, and the city blurred past her window, she wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. All she knew was that every mile they put between her and that park felt like another crack forming between her and Scorpion. And she wasn’t sure if they could ever fix it.