Page 11 of Renegade Ruin

Definitely intrigued. Because in all her infinite wisdom, this is the only plan she could come up with to get me to comply.

I shake my head and huff a sarcastic chuckle. “What part of I’m not flying do you not understand?”

“The same part where if you don’t do this, you'll forfeit your spot on this team.”

My spine stiffens, and I don’t dare look away from Willow’s hardened stare. She’s all business, but I can’t tell if she’s bluffing and this is a power trip or if she’s actually serious. I might threaten the notion of walking away, but now that the reality of losing the Renegades is on the table, I’m struggling to force air into my lungs.

“You wouldn’t.” I don’t recognize the low and menacing desperation in my voice.

I expected this from Vaugh. Even Graham would have grounds to threaten my position on the team, but this is the first time Willow has threatened my place here, and by the fierce look in her eye, she means it.

Fuck.

It’s not even flying that scares me. It’s everything else. The seat configuration alone gives me anxiety. Where is the safest place to sit? What happens if the engine goes out? What difference does the tray table being up make if we’re in a death spiral?

How the hell am I supposed to just sit in my seat andnotwonder who was sitting in that seat on the plane that went down?

Don’t even get me started on landing.

None of it is logical, but my mind won’t stop.

Out of everyone, Willow should understand, but of course she doesn’t.

“Take the jet, Bishop.” Her voice is strong despite its hushed volume.

I narrow my gaze on Willow, who’s got just as much fire in her eyes as my own. There’s a part of me that wants to tell her she’s a good girl for standing up to me. The problem is there’s a bigger part of me that needs to see her bleed as much as I am, because the fact that she has it all together is really pissing me off. Which is my only excuse for why I blurt out the worst idea on the planet.

“Only if you come with me.”

If I have to suffer, so does she.

Willow inhales a sharp breath, and the wheels turn in her mind as she works out any other possible solution. “That’s not an option.”

I raise a taunting brow. “Then I guess I’m packing the truck and leaving tomorrow. The choice is yours, k—” I catch myself before I utter the nickname I gave a lifetime ago.

If she notices, she doesn’t let it show.

“I wasn’t planning on heading down there until the middle of next week. I can’t leave tomorrow, but if I move some stuff around, I think I can leave the following afternoon.”

I raise a brow, skeptical if this is her way to get me to avoid leaving with enough time to make the drive. Not that it really matters. I have no problem getting ripped a new one for showing up late to training. It’s par for the course these days.

“Good thing I’m already packed. Text me the details and I’ll be there with bells on.”

“Oh, now you know how a phone works,” she mutters under her breath, and I get the feeling it’s payback for the almost-Kitten slip.

Willow shakes her head and pulls out her phone, tapping away in a hurry. When she’s finished, she glares in my direction.

“Are we done here?”

“Yeah. We’re done.”

Willow turns on the heels she hates, but damn do they make her ass look good. She heads for the door, tossing one final jab over her shoulder as she does. “Don’t fuck this up.”

That’s not a promise I can make, especially since I have no intention of attending the draft.

You’re making a mistake.Jackson tries to reason.

I know.

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