This is my fucking therapy. My release valve. The thing that keeps me from completely losing my shit around Reese. Because if I didn't have this—if I didn't have these moments I’d think I’d have snapped a long time ago.
By the time we're done with the frat boy, he's barely recognizable as human. Blood pools beneath the chair, his face a mess of split skin and broken bone. I'm breathing hard, my knuckles raw and bleeding.
"You good?" Cope asks, eyeing me as he removes his brass knuckles. "You went pretty fucking hard there at the end."
I roll my shoulders, feeling the pleasant ache of muscles used well. "Yeah. Just needed to get some shit out of my system."
"Reese shit?" He smirks, knowing exactly which buttons to push.
"Fuck off," I mutter, but there's no heat behind it. He's not wrong.
This is why I can't have her. This darkness that lives inside me, this violence that feels as natural as breathing—it would consume her. Reese is everything I'm not—light to my shadow, warmth to my cold, stars to my black hole. She fucking dances through life while I'm down here in the dirt, blood on my hands, violence in my veins.
Every day, every hour, it gets harder to keep my distance. To pretend I'm just her friend when every cell in my body screams that she's mine. But I can't drag her down into this pit with me. I won't.
I look at Cope, wiping blood from my knuckles onto my jeans. "C'mon, let's load his ass up and take him to Weston."
Cope's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh? Is he done being mad at us and gonna let us use his fucking junkyard again?"
I laugh, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. "He was never mad. He just said everyone needed to chill for a while after Penn got rid of four bodies in as many days for looking at my nephews the 'wrong way'."
We untie Gary from the chair, his body flopping like a rag doll. He groans as we lift him, bloodbubbling from his split lips. Between the two of us, we manage to carry him to Cope's truck, dumping him unceremoniously in the bed and covering him with a tarp.
We didn’t kill him here, but being crushed in the trunk of a car at the junkyard should be terrifying as long as he gains consciousness beforehand.
Shit, that’s a fucked up thought.
Chapter 11
Reese
My heart's pounding so hard I swear it's about to crack my fucking ribs. Taking my position center stage, my body vibrating with energy. I can do this, I was born to do this.
I scan the audience one more time as I do one last stretch. The Blackwoods occupy nearly an entire row—Reagan and Penn with the boys, the rest of my mosaic family, and Ramsey…Ramsey's eyes haven't left me since I walked out for warm-ups.
Even in the darkness, I can feel his eyes locked on me. He's wearing that black button-down I love, the one that makes his shoulders look like they could crush a car. He didn't have to come, but he never misses my performances. Not a single one since I met him at the end of junior year in high school.
Justin's supposed to be here too, somewhere.After weeks of texts and apologies and that pathetic scene outside my sports medicine class where he literally got on his knees, I finally gave in. He’s like a puppy dog, and I still feel like I owe him for taking me under his wing senior year after switching schools.
"Five minutes, Reese," my dance instructor whispers, squeezing my shoulder.
I nod, pulling my leg higher against my body, feeling the satisfying burn of muscles preparing for performance.
When I step onto the stage minutes later, I don't think about Justin. I think about Ramsey's eyes on me, watching every move. I dance like I'm possessed, letting the music take over, channeling all my anger and frustration into each extension, each leap. The audience disappears. There's just my body, the music, and the feeling of knowing a phantom is watching.
When I finish, there's that beautiful half-second of silence before the applause crashes over me. I'm breathing hard, sweat trickling between my shoulder blades as I take my bow.
After the showcase, the Blackwoods surround me with flowers and praise. Reagan hugs me tight, whispering how proud she is. My nephews bounce around excitedly. Penn jokes about me joining one of those dark circuses and shit. Lincoln, Jere, Iris, and Oakley all give me a hug. My family is the freaking best.
And then there's Ramsey, hanging back, waiting until the others drift toward the reception.
"Hey, you were absolutely fucking incredible up there," Ramsey says, his voice dropping to a low rumble that makesmy stomach flip. He hands me a small bouquet of wildflowers, not the fancy roses everyone else brought. He remembers I love the messy, imperfect ones.
"Thanks, Rams." I take them, breathing in their earthy scent.
"Holy shit, that was so hot!"
Justin's voice cuts through our bubble as he pushes through the crowd. His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me against him as he plants a wet kiss on my cheek. "The way you moved your body up there—fuck, babe."
