Page 130 of Retaliation

“I really should be training,” he said gruffly. “I’m going to kill him!”

His eyes glared with the same vicious fire that she saw in the ring when they fought.

“Phillip,” she began again, miserably.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, and she saw the fire going out in him. “And I’m sorry for running away, but I just snapped when that low-life kissed you.”

She bent down and took his hands in hers. “Just promise me one thing,” she begged, her voice soft yet insistent.

When he looked at her inquiringly, she continued, “Promise me that you won’t fight Reaper alone. Or rather, promise me that you won’t fight him without me.”

“I can’t!” Scorpion roared, springing to his feet. “I’m not letting you fight against him! I don’t want you to get hurt or, worse, killed! You know the rules. If interfere in any way, they’ll have your head for it.”

“We stand a better chance together!” she argued, her voice rising with desperation.

“It is against our laws,” he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. She knew that that was the end of the discussion.

With a sigh, Scorpion gathered his things. “Let’s get out of here.”

He took her hand, the simple gesture filling her with a fragile sense of security.

FORTY FIVE

The 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.

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