I leaned over the railing, watching the club below. Gemma was getting too drunk. She swayed, laughing too hard and leaning on her friends. My eyes dropped to her lips, bitten and red. She always chewed them when she was high.
“Please tell me I didn’t see you dancing with Gemma Crowne.”
Shit.
I glanced at Lock from the corner of my eye. He stood next to me, brows drawn, jaw tight. Lock was the tallest of us, and we were all pretty fucking tall—except Wraith, whose short stature worked for his line of work. Lock was also the most empathetic of us. Where we were all like too much scar tissue, hardened and callous, Lock still had some humanity left. Could be why he got so much ass.
I rubbed my jaw. “Didn’t know I was being watched.”
“She’s America’s Princess. Her life is splashed acrossmagazines. She thrives under a microscope, and our survival depends on the shadows.”
I turned away from Gemma falling drunk into her private booth, and leaned against the railing, eyes on Lock. The piercings in his lip and brow glinted in the club light. On the surface there wasn’t much that connected Lock, Raze, Wraith, and me. Not our taste in music or women, not the type of clothes we bought or the media we consumed.
But, like me, he had the misfortune of being born in Crowne Point. Crowne Point was the wealthiest city in America, which meant it was also the most corrupt. Growing up as a poor kid with no family meant you were either a charity case or something to exploit—usually both.
I’d known Lock longer than my other brothers. Before we were inked, just two kids playing with broken toy trucks while our parents got high in the next room. Which was probably why he saw through me the best.
“You never should have taken her contract,” Lock continued. “Then you took her brother’s.”
“You think I don’t fucking know that?” I growled.
I knew I wasn’t pissed that he was calling me out. I was pissed that he was right. Loyalty, trust, ride or die—these were things we didn’t have growing up. You didn’t become like us by having a perfect childhood.
So we became the family we didn’t have. We built an empire on blood and blackmail. What I did with Gemma undermined everything the Horsemen and I stood for.
I should have let her die that day. I definitely shouldn’t have let it last this long.
“In five years she hasn’t done one fucking thing we’ve asked of her without whining,” he said.
“And?”
“And if she were anyone else, if this were any othersituation, she’d be dead. I know I don’t need to tell you this, but?—”
“So then why are you still talking?”
“But,” Lock emphasized. “Every minute you spend with her puts all of us at risk. Almost a decade of work, man. For what? A dance that meant nothing?”
ELEVEN
GEMMA
Something smacked into my face, and I woke with a jolt. My temples throbbed with a hangover. The sun had melted into a snowy white sky. It was too bright. I vaguely remembered coming home, doing more lines with the girls, but after that the night blurred. Now, Blaire and Kennedy were in bed with me.
I shoved Kennedy’s hand off my face and sat up, leaning against my quilted headrest. In the mirror opposite my bed, I saw myself clearly. Mascara streaked. Hair unkempt and unbrushed. Lips swollen from sleep.
Messy.
I like you sweaty, Gemma. Dirty. Ugly. Messy.
Last night came rushing back in a wave of heat.
Grim knew things about me. Fucked-up things. Things I liked. Things I didn’t tell people. Things that would very much ruin my image.
Things Icraved.
Sometimes when he looked at me, I could see him crave them too. I could feel those cravings twist my gut into knots, our shared addiction we never talk about.
I rubbed the mascara from under my eyes, trying to forget the night. There was alwayssomethingthere, something I didn’t want to admit.
