Page 103 of Retaliation

“They’re going to be pissed at me,” she said, inhaling deeply before pushing the door open. Skeldon’s rugged face broke into a grin, his eyes crinkling with relief. With her fierce gaze, Cat stepped forward, a mixture of concern and anger playing on her features.

“Boss Lady!” Skel’s voice boomed, pulling her into a bear hug. She winced slightly, but the was too dumbfounded by Skel’s animated actions to care. “We’ve been worried sick.”

Cat’s eyes flicked to Scorpion, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“What happened?” she demanded, her tone sharp. “And why are we here? And who are you supposed to be?”

Poison stepped back from Skeldon’s embrace, leaning into Scorpion’s solid presence.

“Got into a bit of trouble,” she admitted, her voice steady. “But I’m fine now. Skeldon, Cat, this is Scorpion,” she introduced them.

The men shook hands, but Cat stared him down, despite her five foot two paling in comparison to Scorpion’s six three, until her gaze softened, slightly.

“We need to know everything, mi hermana.”

Scorpion’s hand tightened on her waist, a silent promise of support. Poison took another deep breath, preparing herself to relive the events that had left her bruised and battered.

“Best you sit down for this”

She told them everything. She told them everything that happened from her fight with Tidal, to Reaper telling them she was Rex’s killer and her plan to make Scorpion see reason. And when she was done explaining, Skel and Cat wore matching incredulous expressions.

Through it all, Scorpion remained by her side, an unflinching steady anchor in the storm of her thoughts and emotions. By the time the sun was high in the sky, she felt a renewed sense of purpose, her wounds – both physical and emotional – already beginning to heal.

“So what do you need us to do, Boss Lady?” Skel asked, and Poison could see him trying to come up with a plan.

“Nothing,” she said, and meant it. “We give Reaper rope and soon he’ll hang himself, but I’m done. I’m done carrying that burden around with me.”

Her friends nodded in understanding and she marveled at their unconditional support.

They spent the rest of the morning catching up, getting to know Scorpion and he answered all their without restraint or hesitation and by midday, as Skel and Cat left, Scorpion turned to her.

“That went better than expected,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

His eyes lingered on the healing bruise on her jaw, guilt flashing in his eyes, and she leaned into his touch, exhaustion seeping into her bones.

“You’re telling me. Thank you for enduring that.”

He smiled a rare, genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, and she believed him.

For the first time in a long while, she believed she wasn’t alone in this fight. Glancing up at him, her heart swelled with gratitude and something deeper, something she wasn’t ready to name. Not yet.

THIRTY SIX

Phillip leaned his elbows on the island countertop, cradling a cup of coffee as he watched Poison do her physiotherapy exercises. It had been a week since the fight—a week of restless nights and endless days. Every night, he’d lay awake, listening to her steady breathing, careful not to move too much so as not to cause her pain or discomfort. He had to slip out at odd hours to meet with his boss or finish a task, hating every moment he had to leave her alone.

He took a sip, letting the bitter liquid burn its way down his throat.

Poison moved with determination and pain, her muscles straining against the resistance bands. She gritted her teeth, a bead of sweat tracing a path down her temple.

His eyes followed the arc of her uninjured arm as she lifted it slowly, the muscles trembling under the strain. She lowered it with a controlled breath, her jaw clenched tight. Guilt mixed with an ache of helplessness—very wince, every flinch was a reminder of what he had done.

He remembered the first time he saw her fight, the raw power and grace that left him in awe. But now, seeing her struggle with something as simple as lifting her arm tore at something deep inside him. He hated this vulnerability, this stark reminder of how easily she could break, how easily he almost broke her.

“Need help?” he offered, his voice rougher than he intended.

The words felt inadequate, a poor attempt to bridge the gap between them.

---