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“I didn’t say anything.” I keep pointing. “Although technically Raze did just order you to spend time with the hot siren, so this is club business now.”

Motherfucker.

I head for the door.

“Carnage?”

I glance back.

Sentinel lifts his beer toward me. “Try to keep your hands where she can see them.”

I give him the finger.

I go to walk out when Raze calls out to me. “Carnage, a word?”

Chapter Thirteen

CARNAGE

Sentinel waggles his brow at me and moves past me to the door. “Private meeting with the big man, you’re in sooo much trouble!” he teases, rushing past me.

I hip and shoulder him as he passes, hearing his laughter echo down the hall as I make my way back to the table where it’s just Raze and me in the room now.

He drops back into the seat beside me, forearms on the table, and doesn’t say anything for a long minute. Just lets the quiet sit there with us.

“I know what it’s like…” he finally says, “… to lose the thing that defines you.”

I glance at him. He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at his own hands, turning one over like he’s checking it’s still attached. “Cursed most of my life,” he goes on. “My fire was stripped out of me and locked in a fucking glass dome right here in this clubhouse while I got turned into something I was never supposed to be. I could see it every damn day. Knew it was mine. Knew exactly what had been taken from me, and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do to get it back.”

His eyes hold mine, and suddenly I know why he’s telling me this.

“Still had a club to run, though. Brothers looking to me to lead them. Problems that didn’t give a shit whether I felt whole when I woke up that morning.” His mouth pulls slightly at one corner. “Took me a long fucking time to figure out being their president was never about what came out of my mouth or what kind of fire I had running through my veins. It was about what I did when my brothers needed me.”

His gaze drops briefly to my throat before coming back to mine. “Then Roxy came along and helped me get my fire back. Now I’ve got the ice the curse left me with and the fire that was always mine.” He leans forward, his forearms settling against his knees. “So when I tell you I know what it’s like to have someone rip away a piece of you and leave you figuring out who the fuck you are without it, Carnage, I’m not feeding you some president bullshit.” He taps two fingers against his chest. “They can take something from you. But they don’t get to decide what’s left.”

Something in my chest cracks wide open, sudden and unguarded.

“You’re still a King,” he says, quiet and final. “With or without the roar.”

I don’t have words to give him back. I haven’t had words for three days now, so I reach over and grip his forearm hard. He grips mine right back, and the bastard understands every fucking thing I can’t say.

We stay like that for a second before Raze releases me and sits back. “And for the record, I want the roar back too.” My eyebrow lifts. “What?” His mouth finally twitches. “You think I enjoy having Ruckus this comfortable around here? Fucker hasn’t had you yelling at him for days. He’s getting cocky.”

A laugh pushes against my throat on instinct, but nothing comes out. The empty scrape that follows is a brutal reminder of what’s missing, and Raze catches it. I see the change in his face before he can hide it.

I shake my head.

Don’t.

He gets the message.

“Right.” He pushes himself to his feet. “No feeling sorry for the giant furry asshole.”

I point toward the door.

Fuck off.

“I’m going.” He grabs his beer from the table, then stops beside me. His hand comes down hard on my shoulder, squeezing once. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Carnage.” I look up at him. “And if your voice is out there somewhere, we’ll bring it home.”