THIRTEEN
THE FIGHT
Rose
Rage has beenin the gym training for tonight while I’ve been lying in bed, upset. Many hours have passed and the sun has gone down, but I haven’t been able to eat or relax. Rage has checked up on me, but there’s no point in me saying anything. Nothing will change his mind. I get it... who am I to ask him to stop fighting? Even though we’re close and it feels like I’ve known him for years, in reality I haven’t known him long, but it physically pains me to think he’s going to get hurt.
The only positive thing about today is that I set up my business equipment in one of the club’s spare bedrooms, so it’s all ready to go. I’m excited to tell my customers and the people who follow me that I’m back and ready to start on new orders, but my excitement has been overshadowed by everything else—the Russians, moving, Kayla, Tyler, and now the fight. My chest aches and my brain delivers a shot of dread to my body every time I think about what-ifs, like Rage seriously getting hurt. I don’t know how to get through to him.
Knock, knock, knock.
I look over at the door and sit up. “Come in.”
The door opens, and Sophie’s beautiful face appears. “Viper said you need a friend right now, and I’m an awesome friend, even if I say so myself.”
I smile at her.
“Come on,” she walks over and grabs my hand, pulling me up. “Let’s go have a drink, shall we? Or a shot?” she offers with a naughty grin.
“Okay,” I drawl. “Just one.”
She snorts. “I thought you’d want to get smashed.”
I follow her downstairs to where Ava, Elena, Ivy, and Milly are, by the bar. They all look up at me and smile.
When I reach them, Milly passes me a red drink. “It’s vodka and raspberry.”
I take it from her. “Thank you.” I have a sip and sit on a stool. Ava is on one side of me, and Sophie takes a seat on the other.
“Where’s Zara?” I ask the group.
“She’s in bed early,” Elena replies.
“How are you doing?” Ava asks with sympathy in her eyes.
I take another large gulp of my drink.
Sophie chuckles. “Not good, I’m guessing.”
“It’s been a rough day...” My breath catches. “And now I have to wait around while the person I care about gets hurt.”
The men walk inside and congregate by the front door. My heart pounds. Rage’s face falls when he sees me, so I know it’s time for him to leave. He’s wearing silky black shorts, his god-like, sculpted body on display, but all I want to do is cover him up with a shirt and drag him to bed, away from the fights, the violence, the hurt.
Anxiety pulses through me as he makes his way over and wraps his arms around me. “I won’t be long, and I’ll be fine. Twitch will be here with you and the other women.”
He doesn’t know he’ll be fine. I’m choked up, so all I can do is nod in return. I feel everyone’s eyes on me as he kisses my cheek. My stomach knots tightly as the men leave.
“Rage usually ends up with bruises and cuts,” says Milly. “He had a fractured rib a few years ago, but that’s the worst of it. It always looks worse than it is. People have been knocked out, and yeah, they bleed, but the club wouldn’t let it get too out of hand.”
Her words only make me feel worse. “Rage thinks he owes the club, and he’s so devoted he doesn’t want to let anyone down, but I feel nauseous even thinking he could get hurt.” I rub the base of my neck. “One bruise is too many.” I’m met with silence and cringes.
“I understand, and I wouldn’t agree with Viper if he did it. But... you can’t force him to stop or see reason if you’ve already talked to him about it. Rage thrives on the fights. He enjoys it.”
I was not expecting Sophie to throw the truth in my face, but I consider her words and drink the remainder of my drink. Sophie and Milly offer me more, but I decline.
“Did you hear the sweet butts found a house? They’re officially moving out,” says Elena.
“The last two girls are nice. The rest”—Ava cringes—“were not.”
