The skull charms rattle in my pocket as we accelerate into the darkness, carrying death threats and promises.
Bembe thinks he has me cornered, forced to choose between pride and love.
He's wrong.
I choose both.
By dawn, Bembe Reyes will no longer be a threat.
Whether he's dead or simply neutralized depends on how the night unfolds.
Njal's mania will see to that, guided by Ingrid's careful words.
Is it cruel? Yes. Is it necessary? Also yes.
This is the world we live in, where love and violence intertwine like lovers.
Where protecting someone sometimes means becoming the monster they fear you are.
But I've made my own promises, and those matter more than any threat.
By dawn, the threats will be handled.
By noon, I'll stand at an altar, waiting.
By sunset, I'll either be a married man or a broken one.
But Revna will be alive to choose.
That's all that matters now.
The city lights blur past as we head toward whatever violence the night holds.
Behind us, the clubhouse glows with warm light, sheltering the woman who owns me, whether she knows it or not.
Eighteen hours.
Time enough to save her.
Time enough to lose her.
Time enough to prove that the man who buys horses and the man who orders deaths can coexist, if she'll have me.
The skull charms click together in my pocket, a countdown to consequences.
Let them come.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Revna
The spare room at the clubhouse smells like fried food from Bubba’s next door and stale cigarettes, with an underlying note of oil that is probably bleeding out from the walls.
Someone—Mom, most likely—hung my wedding dress on the back of the door, where it glows like a ghost in the dim light from the parking lot.
Even in this industrial room with its exposed brick walls and massive window overlooking the back yard where members sometimes barbecue, the dress manages to look ethereal.
The contrast is stark—delicate beadwork and silk against raw brick and steel beams that remind everyone this used to be a warehouse before the club claimed it.