“You don’t know who I was.”
“No,” she says. “But I know who you are with us.”
Us.
That flickers dangerously in my chest.
“You’re not us,” I say before I can stop myself.
Her expression shifts.
Hurt.
Anger.
Fire.
“Right,” she says tightly. “Because I’m younger. Because I’m not patched. Because I haven’t bled for it.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, Ryder?”
She says my name as a challenge.
“You and Finn,” I say.
Her eyes flash.
“And Zane,” I add.
The air changes.
“You don’t get to throw that at me,” she says.
“I’m not throwing.”
“You’re claiming.”
“I don’t share easily,” I growl.
“I’m not something you get to share.”
My hand finds her waist before I decide to let it.
She sucks in a breath.
“Don’t,” she warns.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t act like this is territorial when you’re the one who keeps stepping back.”
“I step back because I’m thinking.”
“No,” she says, “you step back because you don’t like not being the one in control.”
I lean down until my mouth is inches from hers.
