Page 34 of Wicked Scorn
I nod, because he’s right. I let my anger get the best of me. It’s a mistake I can’t afford to make again.
Declan’s got that look. You know, the one that says he’s seen too many guys like me lose it over less.
“Nice right hook,” Declan drawls, leaning against the ropes with all the casual arrogance of a king in his court. “Though I’ve heard pillow talk that’s less aggressive.”
“Then you’re doing it wrong,” I snap back, the sarcasm thick in my voice. My knuckles ache, longing to feel flesh give way beneath them again. Anything to silence the roar in my head.
“Or maybe I just choose better company.” He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed by my glare.
“Better than your hand?” My voice is brittle, almost as fractured as my self-control.
“Touché,” he chuckles, pushing off the ropes and signaling to a group of rookies gaping from the doorway. “Get in here! Clean-up on aisle four.”
The rookies scramble forward, hesitant glances tossed my way like they’re waiting for the next round of fireworks. The poor bastard I thrashed is still sprawled on the floor, groaning like a ghost condemned to haunt this gym.
“Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own spit,” I toss at them, trying to reign in the hurricane I’ve become. “I’m gonna head out before my brother fucks with what’s mine.”
“Watch yourself, Blackwood,” Declan warns, releasing me but not dropping his guard. “Obsession makes for sloppy fighting.”
“Thanks for the tip,” I say, my voice laced with sarcasm as thick as the bloodlust that still hums beneath my skin.
“Anytime,” he replies, a knowing smirk playing on his lipsas he steps away, leaving me to gather the shattered pieces of control I’d tossed aside the moment my fists started flying.
I grab my stuff and head for the door, my mind already racing ahead. I need to find out who hurt Oakley. I need to keep her safe.
And God help anyone who gets in my way.
I slam the gym door open, the cool night air hitting my sweat-slicked skin. The parking lot is empty, just a few scattered cars glinting under the streetlights. I pause for a moment, trying to get my bearings, my mind still reeling from the fight.
Pulling out my phone, I shoot a quick text to Ramsey.
Need you to dig into Oakley’s life. Find out everything that’s happened since I last saw her. Leave no stone unturned.
The response is immediate.
Rams
On it. I’ll hit you back when I’ve got something.
I shove the phone back in my pocket, my jaw clenching. Whoever hurt Oakley, they’re going to pay. I’ll make damn sure of that.
I’m halfway to my bike when I hear footsteps behind me. I whirl around, fists clenched, ready for another fight. But it’s just Declan, his hands raised in mock surrender.
“Easy, killer,” he says, his tone dry. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything stupid.”
I scowl at him. “Like what?”
“Like going after whoever roughed up your girl.” He givesme a knowing look. “I’ve seen that look before, man. The one that says you’re out for blood, and only one thing can make a man look like that.”
I don’t bother denying it. “She’s not just some girl. She’s…” I trail off and glare at him before finishing, “mine. She’s fucking mine.” I give him a terse nod, then turn back to my bike. “I gotta go. I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Just remember what I said,” Declan calls after me. “Be smart. Don’t let your anger make you stupid.”
I wave a hand in acknowledgment, then start my bike before peeling out of the parking lot.
I don’t go straight back to the house. Instead, I ride around town, letting my bike take me in and out of the city limits while I try and unpack and repack everything. Trying to compartmentalize so I can get my fucking shit together.
I glance down at my gas gauge and notice it’s just above the E, so I turn around and head back.
