Page 57 of Retaliation

She took a deep, steadying breath. She needed to stay in control, not let the past drown her. But the anger, always simmering beneath the surface, threatened to boil over.

“I always thought you two would end up together,” Nina whispered, giving Poison a sidelong glance over the brim of her sippy cup.

“Who?” Poison raised her eyebrows, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

“You and Rogan,” she said, her tone neutral, almost hesitant. “I always thought he had a thing for you.”

Rage flared up again, hot and scorching. She pushed the thought away, refusing to entertain it. “None of that matters,” she spat. “He killed Jonathan, and soon I’ll send him back to the dark pit of hell he crawled out of.”

The anger in her chest burned hotter. Rogan’s betrayal was a wound that never healed, a constant reminder of the darkness she was fighting against. She clenched her fists, feeling the tension coiling in her muscles.

Nina reached out, placing a hand on her arm. “P, I know you’re hurting, but don’t let it consume you.”

She looked into Nina’s eyes, seeing the concern, the love. She took a deep breath, trying to let the warmth of Nina’s friendship soothe the raw edges of her pain. “I won’t, Neen. But I need to do this. For Jonathan. For myself.”

NINETEEN

Phillip’s bike tore through the winding streets, the roar of the engine drowning out the tumult of his thoughts. Each turn brought him closer to the factory, closer to the sanctuary, where he could gather his thoughts and formulate a plan.

As he skidded to a stop outside the imposing structure, his heart hammered in his chest, a relentless drumbeat. He glanced around, the darkness of the night shrouding the factory in an feeling of foreboding.

Moments later, the sound of approaching motorcycles shattered the silence, and he turned to see Gunnar and Dennis steering toward him.

Stopping next to him, Dennis unloaded a crate of beer, his expression unreadable beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.

“Scor,” Gunnar greeted, tapping him on the shoulder.

He nodded in acknowledgment, his burdens pressing down upon him like a suffocating cloak.

“Thanks for coming, both of you,” he said.

“You know we’ve got your back, no matter what,” Dennis answered.

He led Gunnar and Dennis into the factory, the shadows dancing around them as they moved deeper into the dimly lit space.

As they approached the room at the back of the east wing of the building, Phillip felt a bit calmer. A large tree, with its branches reaching out through the holes in the roof, stood in the middle of the room.

He drifted to the metal drum at the root of the tree, throwing pieces of wood in before he poured gasoline over it and set it on fire.

Soon, the fire crackled in the drum as he stoked the flames, casting flickering shadows across the worn furniture. Rickety chairs and a sagging sofa clustered around the base of the tree, a tribute to the countless hours they had spent here, plotting and planning.

Dennis and Gunnar silently watched, their faces etched with concern as they took their seats. Dennis passed him a beer, and he accepted it with a nod of gratitude before sinking onto the worn cushions of the sofa.

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Gunnar asked, his eyes searching Phillip’s face for answers.

Phillip lit a smoke and took a long drag before answering, the smoke curling around him as he blew out a long breath.

“I found Double R’s killer,” he said, emotionless.

Dennis and Gunnar exchanged a glance, disbelief written across their features.

“It’s Poison,” he stated, venom lacing her name.

“Poison?” Gunnar scoffed, his tone incredulous. “Oh, come on, Scor. How could she have taken down Double R?”

Phillip’s jaw clenched, the memory of the news of Rex’s death flashing before his eyes.

“You haven’t seen her fight, Gun,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You should have seen her the night we met. She could have taken everyone on her own and walked out without a scratch. She’s more capable than you think.”

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