Not today Satan.
Our quarters are another windowless cell tucked into the corner of The Hollow. Concrete walls, one ratty ass cot, and a mounted camera in the corner that hasn’t worked in god knows how long. No heat. No soundproofing.
Fucking Perfect.
Riot locks the door behind us with a sharp click. I toss the half-eaten ration onto the desk and drop onto the cot with a groan.
“This place blows.”
He shrugs off his jacket and sets it neatly on the chair. “Want me to kill someone aboutit?”
I smirk. “Not yet. But if Voss looks at me sideways again, feel free.”
He steps in close and leans down so he's hovering over me, fingers grazing my jaw as he brushes a bit of grease from my cheek. His touch is gentle, but his presence? Overwhelming. Like everything in him is honed and focused on me.
“You’re mine tonight,” he says, voice low.
I raise an eyebrow. “What—justtonight?”
He doesn’t answer with words.
Just steps between my legs and drops to his knees, like he belongs there. His hands grip my hips, rough and sure, dragging me toward the edge of the cot until the thin frame creaks in protest.
My breath catches. His gaze stays locked on mine—dark, feral, starved.
One hand slips to the waistband of my jeans. Fingers hook in the denim, slow, deliberate, like he’s daring me to stop him.
I don’t.
“Still think I don’t need to protect you?” he mutters, voice gravel low.
I smirk, breathless. “Still think you can?”
He growls, low in his chest, and tugs my jeans down past my hips—slow, steady—exposing skin like he’s peeling away armor.
Across the room, Taz stirs once on her dog bed, then settles with a huff.
She’s used to this.
Riot leans in, mouth hot against my thigh, his hands firm on my waist like I might disappear if he loosens his grip.
I don’t know what this is.
But I know what it means.
And tonight? We don’t talk about surviving. We don’t talkabout Kane or the race or the fact that any breath could be our last.
Tonight, I let him take.
And I take just as much.
Because in a few hours, we ride into the dark.
But right now?
Right now, I’m his.
Twenty