Page 135 of Blood & Throttle
For a second, just a second, it almost feels like we’re okay.
Then the shift hits.
Sharp footsteps and raised voices at the edge of the pit. Sin tenses. Her shoulders lock. Her whole frame coils like she already knows. I follow the noise.
And there he is.
Jace, standing like The Gauntlet never touched him. Helmet under his arm, leathers spotless, swaggering like a fucking revenant dragged out of hell just to piss me off. That same grin’s stretched across his face, smug and soulless, like he knows something the rest of us don’t. Like he thinks he’s already won.
Behind me, it’s like someone’s lit a fuse beneath Sin’s skin and she’s daring it to burn. She watches him without blinking, shoulders squared, chest rising slow. She doesn’t speak, but hersilence isn’t hesitation, it’s precision. Like she’s already playing out how fast she could reach him before someone tries to stop her.
I don’t give her the chance.
I step out and meet Jace halfway, jaw locked, cigarette still burning low between my fingers.
“The fuck are you doing here?” I ask, voice like gravel and smoke.
That grin of his doesn’t even twitch. “Didn’t think you’d miss me, Carter.”
I blow a stream of smoke toward his face, slow and steady, watching the way he doesn’t flinch. “Syndicate scraped you off the concrete like something stuck to the bottom of their boot. Thought we were finally done with you.”
“Yeah, well…” He shrugs like it’s nothing, gaze slipping past me. I don’t need to turn around to know who he’s looking at. “Someone higher up must’ve thought I still had potential. Or maybe they just like a little drama before the end.”
That look he gives her, quick, and cutting, says more than words.
My fingers tighten around the cigarette as I step in close, close enough that I can smell the chemical clean still clinging to his new gear. He reeks of Syndicate. Of deals and protection and something rotten underneath.
“Try that again,” I say, voice low and cold enough to cut steel. “Look at her one more time.”
Jace smirks, eyes flicking past my shoulder, right to her. “Didn’t realize she needed a leash.”
I’m in his face before the words finish leaving his mouth. One hand in his collar, the other slamming him into the nearest steel post. The crack echoes, drones swivel, heads turn and the pit holds its breath.
Jace grunts, but that smug bastard’s smile stays pinned to his face like it’s tattooed there.
“You really don’t learn, do you?” he mutters, like I’m the one wasting time. “Pretty sure you can’t keep her alive forever, Carter. Might wanna enjoy her while you can.”
I lean in close. Close enough he can smell the smoke on my breath.
“You so much as breathe in her direction again, I’ll make sure they don’t find enough of your body to scrape into a fucking urn.”
He laughs, but there’s a crack in it now. A twitch in his jaw.
“That right? Because from where I’m standing, she looks like a fucking target.” His grin widens. “And I’m just the guy to take the shot.”
My fist slams into the post next to his head, metal denting under the impact.
“Try it,” I growl. “Fucking try. And I will bury you in whatever’s left of this district. You think handlers are gonna stop me? You think having someone’s protection means shit to me? Touch her, and I won’t aim for the kill shot. I’ll aim to fucking destroy you.”
His mouth opens, but I press in tighter, voice like gravel dragged through blood.
“She is mine.”
The words are a fucking oath. A warning. A death sentence.
“You’ll have to take me out to get to her.”
Jace doesn’t smile this time. Because behind me, boots scuff against concrete. Not fast. Not loud. Just enough.
