Page 158 of Blood & Throttle
Chest heaving. Knuckles bleeding. Rage still simmering under my skin like an exposed wire. The scent of blood, sweat, and something primal curls between us.
Then the door hisses.
Of course.
Fucking Voss.
He walks in like this is a casual business call, not a warzone. Same polished shoes. Same fake smile stretched tight over hollow cheekbones. A pair of guards flanks him, rifles low but ready. Eyes sharp. Watching.
He surveys the scene like it’s a minor inconvenience. “I see we’ve had a misunderstanding.”
“Wasn’t a misunderstanding,” I growl, voice like gravel. “He touched her.”
Taz bares her teeth next to me, her eyes fixated on Voss.
He raises an eyebrow, but the fake smile doesn’t slip. “And you nearly shattered his spine for it.”
“Should’ve finished the job,” I spit.
The handler at my feet groans again. I don’t move. If anything, I lean closer to remind him I could cave his skull in before Voss even blinked.
Voss clicks his tongue and steps through the mess, shoes crunching on broken tile. “You know, I broke protocol for you, Riot. She’s not supposed to be out roaming free. She’s a convict, she’s in here for punishment, and yet I let it slide. Becauseyouasked. Because I thought we had an understanding.”
I don’t answer. My jaw’s clenched too tight.
“But then you take her off Syndicate grounds entirely?” His voice dips, cold and venom-laced. “You spat in my face.After I broke the rules for you, you pissed on the deal like it meant nothing.”
I feel Sin shift beside me, watching, listening, every nerve in her on edge. I step in front of her.
“You want to talk about broken deals?” I snarl. “You treat racers like dogs. Chain them, starve them, sell their blood for your fucking ratings. She’s not your pawn. She’s not your fucking toy.”
Voss steps in close, too close. The kind of close that says he knows no one here can touch him. Not without paying for it in blood.
His eyes flick to Sin, then back to me. That smirk stretching wider. Colder.
“Oh, but she is,” he says, voice slick as oil. “You all are. Property. Assets. Trash we’ve dressed up for the cameras and promised a way out.”
His gaze hardens, the amusement dropping like a mask sliding off.
“You want to pretend you’re the good guy, Riot? Fine. Protect the girl. Play the hero. Just don’t confuse freedom with power. You’ve got enough fans to make you untouchable, for now. But don’t test me again.”
His smile twists darker. “Because next time you take her off the premises, I won’t send a couple of grunts to drag her back to a cell. I’ll put a bullet in her pretty little skull and string her naked corpse up for the crowd.”
I don’t blink. Don’t move. My jaw flexes as his words burn hot and heavy.
He steps back, brushing invisible dust from his shoulder. “And just so we’re clear—when she falls,youfall too.”
Sin stiffens. I feel it.
I stare him down. Not flinching. Not even fucking breathing.
“I’ll burn this whole fucking district before I let you or anyone else, touch her again.”
Voss’s smile never quite fades. “I hope you don’t make me test that, Riot. Really, I do.”
Voss turns without another word, that smug-ass smile still carved across his plastic fucking face. His guards follow, rifles slung low, eyes sweeping the wreckage like they’re above it. The two handlers I wrecked are groaning on the ground—one coughing blood, the other still cradling what’s left of his knee—until more Syndicate dogs file in, dragging them out like trash.
Sin steps beside me, sliding her hand into mine, her voice cutting through the rage that’s still roaring in my ears.
