Page 58 of Rampage

"Get her out of here," Lane orders, nodding toward Lily who stands frozen, her face pale with shock.

Mason and Christopher move toward me cautiously, like approaching a wild animal. "Brother, you need to calm down," Mason says, his voice steady but wary.

"Calm down?" I laugh, the sound harsh and broken. "You've seen what he did to her! What he was doing to all of them!"

Another chair meets the wall, the crack of splintering wood echoing through the room. My knuckles are bleeding, smearing crimson across whatever I touch. Good. Blood should be spilled for this—Frank's blood.

I grab my keys from my pocket, determination crystallizing through the rage. I'm going back. Tonight. Now. I'm going to find Frank and make him suffer as those girls suffered.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," I announce, my voice deadly calm now, which seems to alarm everyone more than my shouting. "Slowly. So he understands exactly why he's dying."

Lane steps in front of the door, blocking my exit. "You're not going anywhere like this, son."

"Move," I growl, squaring my shoulders. Lane is club president, my mentor, almost a second father to me, but in this moment, he's just an obstacle between me and Frank Dawson.

"Reid." Lily's voice cuts through the red haze of my rage, quiet but steady. She steps toward me, ignoring Mason's protective arm trying to hold her back.

I freeze, my chest heaving with each ragged breath. Lily approaches slowly, her hands raised slightly as if calming a wounded animal. The room falls silent, everyone watching with bated breath.

"Reid," she says again, softer this time. "Look at me."

I force myself to meet her gaze, expecting to find fear there—fear of the violence I've just displayed, fear that perhaps I'm no better than Frank. Instead, I find only compassion, steady and unwavering.

"I need you here," she continues, stopping just inches from me. "Not in a jail cell for murder. Not throwing away everything you've worked for." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I need you with me."

The simple honesty in her words penetrates the fog of rage. My shoulders sag, the adrenaline draining away to leave me hollow and shaking.

"He hurt you," I manage, my voice breaking on the words. "The things he did?—"

"I know," she says, reaching for my bleeding hand. She cradles it gently between her own, examining the torn skin with tender concern. "I lived it, remember? But this—" She gestures toward the evidence envelope Tiffany holds. "—this is how we destroy him. The right way. The way that sticks."

I exhale slowly, struggling to regain control. The rational part of my brain, the doctor, the man who took an oath to heal, fights its way back to the surface.

"Your hand needs attention," Lily says, her fingers ghost-light against my bruised knuckles.

Lane steps forward cautiously. "Let's get that cleaned up. Tiffany needs to continue processing the evidence anyway."

I nod, too drained to argue. Lily's hand slips into my uninjured one, and she leads me from the wreckage of the room. The other members part silently, their expressions a mix of understanding and respect. They've all felt this kind of rage at some point, it's part of what binds us as brothers.

In the bathroom, Lily guides me to sit on the closed toilet lid while she searches for the first aid kit. Her movements are efficient, practiced, another reminder of what she's endured.

"You've done this before," I observe as she wets a clean towel.

She meets my eyes briefly in the mirror. "Foster care teaches you a lot of skills. Patching up injuries is just one of them."

The matter-of-fact way she says it makes my chest ache. She returns to kneel before me, gently cleaning the blood from my knuckles.

"I'm sorry," I say, watching her work. "For losing control like that."

"Don't apologize," she says, dabbing antiseptic on the cuts. "Not for defending me."

"I scared you."

She looks up then, her eyes clear and direct. "No. You didn't." She returns to bandaging my hand. "What scared me is the thought of you throwing away your future—your career, your freedom—because of what happened to me." She secures the bandage with medical tape, her touch gentle but sure. "I couldn't bear that."

The tenderness in her care undoes me. I capture her hands in mine, stilling her movements. "Lily, look at me."

She raises her eyes to mine, vulnerability and strength mingled in her gaze.

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