Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Or maybe I'd already lost her for good.
I turned and walked back to my apartment, each step on the cold ground a reminder of what I'd sacrificed. The door closed behind me with a hollow click, sealing me in with my divided loyalties and the lingering scent of Wren's skin on my sheets.
Chapter Nine
Wren
Igunned the throttle and shot out of Rocky's parking lot, peeling out and fishtailing dangerously as I skidded on some loose asphalt. Once on the road, the night air bit my face, cold fingers reaching beneath my jacket collar. Tears blurred my vision and cooled my face as I leaned into the first turn, taking it too fast, the back wheel skidding slightly before catching the asphalt again. That was twice, but I didn't care. Let the bike slide out from under me. Let the road tear my skin to ribbons. It couldn't hurt worse than the knife Rocky had just shoved through my chest straight into my heart.
The engine screamed beneath me, matching the silent howl building inside my throat. I pushed the bike harder, faster, blowing through a red light without slowing. Horns blared as a car swerved to avoid me. The rush of adrenaline did nothing to dull the pain.
"Fucking Copperheads," I spat into my helmet, the words a curse that burned like acid. I clenched the handlebars until my fingers went numb. I'd been so fucking stupid. So goddamn naive. Rocky had picked me out like a target, zeroing in on me because of who I was to Ghost and Bound in Blood. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word had been calculated. A means to an end.
Wind whipped at my clothes, finding its way through to my skin. My T-shirt —his shirt, I realized with fresh rage— offered little protection against the chill. I should have taken time to grab my own clothes. I snorted a laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Should have done a lot of fucking things differently.
The streets blurred into a maze of lights and shadows as I wove through late-night traffic. I leaned into a curve, scraping my boot on the pavement as I took the turn too tight, too fast. The danger felt good, felt real. Something solid to focus on besides the hollow ache in my chest.
I had no destination in mind, just… away. Away from Rocky, away from the lies, away from the look on his face when he realized I'd heard his phone call. That pleading, desperate look that almost — almost — made me want to believe whatever bullshit story he was spinning about working with Vittorio Luca. As if the Luca family would work with a Copperhead.
Suddenly the city lights fell away as I found myself climbing the winding road toward Taylor's Peak. My bike roared against the steep incline, pushing harder as the road curved up toward the overlook. I hadn't consciously chosen to come here, but some part of me must have known I needed space from everything below the remote overlook.
The parking area sat empty, a crescent of cracked asphalt bordered by a metal guardrail. Beyond it, the city spread out like spilled jewels against black velvet. I killed the engine and sat for a moment, the sudden silence pressing against my head, broken only by the ticking of the cooling metal beneath me.
My legs shook as I dismounted. One step, two, then I turned and shoved my bike. It toppled with a crash, the headlight flickering then dying as it pointed uselessly at the dark sky. The fall probably scratched the custom paint job, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
"FUCK!" The scream tore from my throat, raw and animal, echoing across the valley below. "FUCK YOU, ROCKY!"
My voice bounced back at me, mocking. I grabbed the metal guardrail, the cold steel biting into my palms as I squeezed until my knuckles went white. Tears burned hot tracks down my cheeks, dripping onto the metal beneath my hands.
"Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" I pounded my fists against the rail, each impact sending shocks of pain up my arms and hands. The physical hurt felt good, felt deserved. What kind of idiot falls for the oldest trick in the book? Ghost had warned me. Jack had made it clear. The Copperheads were dangerous, were pushing into our territory, were looking for any weakness they could exploit.
And I'd handed them one on a Goddamned silver platter. Opened my legs and my heart. Thank God I was smart enough to not have said anything about the club. Though, honestly, Rocky hadn’t asked me anything. We’d always been too focused on sex for much pillow talk.
My legs gave out and I sank to the cold pavement, hugging my knees to my chest. The sobs came in earnest now, deep and painful, tearing through my chest like the slash of a very sharp knife. I'd trusted him. Worse, I'd let myself care. Let myself imagine, just for a moment, that whatever was happening between us might be something real. Even if I hadn’t acknowledged those fantasies to myself.