“The most important rule in this club,” Sin starts, reaching out to take my chin in his fingers. He makes me look at him, and I narrow my eyes because I know I’m not going to like this. “Is to follow orders. When you’re in there, Gidge, you do what you’re told.” Sin tightens his fingers on my face, and I frown at him.
“Can you do that for me, Gidge? Fucking please.”
“I can do that,” I reply with a long sigh. If these guys can learn to share, then surely I can learn to follow orders like a proper Daybreaker.
Right?
The level of planning required for this job is insane. And it’s condensed and rushed due to the nature and immediacy of the situation. I see now why it took three fucking months to rescue the club princess from the big, bad mafia castle.
As things stand, we have four days.
On Friday, I’ve come up with a plan that, surprisingly enough, passes Cat’s scrutiny.
My men hate it. Oh, they fucking despise it, but it actually makes my father laugh. Granted, it’s not a mirthful laugh. I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard him laugh for real, and now that his only son is dead? Not sure he’ll ever really laugh again.
“A college party, huh?” he asks, and I nod. I turn my phone around—the one the boys bought me that Cat can’t say shit about now that I’m married to Beast—so he can see the social media post in question.
“Yep.” The post is from Johnny R., the kid from my school who has a DJ for a father that lets him use all of his equipment. He’s going to be DJing tonight, and he’s advertised as much all over the internet. “I’ll go and pick up a guy or even a group of people to take with me.”
A bunch of random college kids, that’s the perfect cover for me to waltz in those doors without being recognized. I mean, besides the wig and the cherry red dress that I picked out. Guess who’s going as a blonde tonight? I even got myself some blue contacts, just to make myself even less recognizable.
Somehow, it feels like a tribute to my sisters.
I can already feel the violence in my blood thrumming and singing, begging me to join the dark side. Little do those dark whisperings know: I’m already in it. I intend to wear it, rule it, own it. Even if I can never actually be president of this club, you know who can? Crown.
I’m going to use him—all of them—to get what I want.
They know it, too. They’ve always known it. Even when they decided to give me space for those few years, it was done with this exact situation in mind. I had to want to be here. If I’d been caged—like Cat tried to do by making me shoot Grey—then I’d have paced like an animal in a zoo.
This is different.
“Mm.” Cat shrugs and shoves the phone back at me. “You think this is better than taking a prospect in on your arm?”
I nod and collect my phone, slipping it into the pocket of Beast’s leather jacket.
“This is better cover. I want to get in there, get a location on Giulia and her team, and I want to do it without rousing the wolves from their den.” I stare Cat down, and he looks right back at me, still suspicious, still certain that I’m about to fuck him and the club both.
“You think you can pick someone up quick and get to the casino on time?” he continues, like he’s challenging me with the semantics of my own idea.
“Have you seen me?” I ask, cocking my head to one side and flashing a dangerous smile.
“Use what you got, girl,” he says, waving me away with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Get dressed. We’ll leave in two hours.”
I nod and retreat before he can think up anything else that I might not like.
I take off, weaving between several men, including my boys, and then heading back to the farmhouse to get ready.
Tonight, I can’t look like Gidge; I have to be somebody else. I have to embody somebody else.
So, Posey’s dress. Posey’s makeup. I even pull up a picture of my sister on her long-forgotten Instagram account and mimic the look in the mirror. I remember that day. She went to the clubhouse to party and didn’t come home for two days. Queenie was furious; Posey reveled in being bad.
I absorb that wild energy into me as I study her picture and trace my eyes with red liner, as I color my lips a brilliant vermillion. The dress is tight, but not too short, falling to my knees and hiding most of my scars. Paired with black gladiator sandals that lace up past my calf, some of my sister’s silver bangle collection, and a glittery clutch that holds both Queenie’s knife as well as my Magnum, I’m ready.
It occurs to me that I won’t be going to my senior prom. Not that I’d planned on it anyway. Me and school functions have never meshed well. But I’d like to think of this as a sort of dark promenade, something dressed in violence and vengeance, and it suits my black, twisted heart so much better.
I come downstairs like it really is prom night, finding all four men waiting for me at the bottom. I love the way their leather vests act as a sort of uniform. And of course, they’re all wearing denim, boots, t-shirts that are just a tad too tight. Ink, muscles, bullshit.
Also, four entirely different expressions.
Beast smiles at me and lets out a low laugh.
“Look at that, married to a blonde,” Beast says as I pause halfway down the stairs, my right hand resting on the banister. I’ve got an expensive wig on, one made of human hair. That’s creepy as fuck, right? To wear somebody else’s hair. Anyway, I borrowed this particular wig from Amber Clearwater.
Now that I know she’s getting married to Big Jack, I look at her in an entirely different light. Crown didn’t want her; he wants me. Not that I would’ve held his want against her in the first place (if he ever had any). I don’t blame women for the sins of men.
“You look far too pretty for this assignment,” Crown offers up, and I decide to take that strange remark as a compliment. There’s a sense of regret in his voice, too, as if he’s somehow failed us both by not locking me up inside a cage of chrome.
But I know they’ve all seen it, how I look at my father with equal parts love and hate. I can’t separate one emotion from the other, no, but I will never trust that man or have a close relationship with him, and they know it. He’s the hindsight that they don’t need to experience to get right.
“I’d still feel better if you took a prospect in with you.” Sin tucks his right hand in his pocket, using the other to sweep over his carefully styled hair. I love that he slicks his faux-hawk up all nice and pretty, even if all he’s going to be doing tonight is escorting me to a college party and then slaughtering people at a contentious casino.
“This will give me more cover; it’s safer and you know it,” I promise him, coming down the rest of the stairs and finding the four huge men in a half-circle around me. They range from tall and imposing (Sin) to gargantuan (Beast) with Grainger and Crown in between. I love it, too, like being surrounded by a hedge of leather-bound terrors, the honor guard that I always wanted but realized wasn’t actually mine.
Until now.
Now they really are mine and nobody else’s.
“Thank you for letting me steal the four of you from Cat,” I say coquettishly, blinking through my falsies and biting my lower lip in a way that makes every single man surrounding me curse and rub at his face or, as in Grainger’s case, yank at his hair with his fist.
“If you die tonight, I swear to fuck …” he starts, pausing as Reba comes out of her room upstairs and heads for the bathroom with Fem at her heels. As soon as my dog spots me, he comes careening down the steps two at a time to sniff my crotch. I don’t think he likes the wig or the contacts, but the smell is mine, at least. I shove him away with a curl of my lip.
“Gross, don’t,” I command him, and he slinks off to curl up in Crown’s precious leather chair.
“What on earth …” Reba starts, coming down the stairs to look at me and acting like the men don’t even exist. You tell me how many other petite Southern belles whose worst curse is ‘oh Fudgsicles’ can stand up to armed men wh
o murder people for a living. Not many, I take it. “You look just like—”
She doesn’t have to finish her statement. We all know exactly what she’s talking about.
I look exactly like my sisters. Coloring aside, we were, apparently, clones of one another, and I just didn’t recognize it. Please, please, please let me have a girl. One that looks like Queenie and Posey. I place my hand over my stomach, and everyone notices.
Surely, I must be nuts to traipse into that casino pregnant. But my life is mine, and I want to do this. The baby can go along for the ride.
“Where are you off to?” Reba asks as Grainger cants her a sharp look.
“Get fucked, Keller. None of your damn business.”
She narrows her green eyes but refuses to acknowledge his statement.
“Out?” I query back, because it’s the only thing I can think to say. She gives me a harsh look that’s actually worse than the ones my men were giving me. It’s a very clear warning.
“Don’t you get yourself hurt out there tonight,” she scolds, and then clears her throat. I can sense it, just like I can sense danger on the wind. She’s about to give me a Bible quote as some sort of warning from the heavens. “The righteous is a guide to his neighbor; But the way of the wicked causeth them to err.”
With that, she turns away and heads into the living room to join Feminist. As soon as she flops onto the couch, he abandons his chair to join her. Now that Grey is gone, Beast has grudgingly given Reba back the cord to the TV. He did not, however, restore the Wi-Fi, so she gets to watch what’s been downloaded already or what Crown has on Blu-ray.
She selects some old black and white Western which feels oddly apropos, as if we’re about to clash with bandits in a goldrush town or something.
“The way of the wicked causeth them to err,” I murmur and then shake my head. “Then let’s err the fuck out of this night, shall we?”
I grab the bag at the bottom of the stairs and slip into the bathroom, adding leather pants under my dress and Beast’s jacket over the top. As I said before: no way in fuck am I getting on a motorcycle with bare skin ever again. Even the sandals have to be traded out for boots, but I had to try this look on and test it on the guys before doing anything else.
I join them in the hallway with the duffel bag—it has a brush and some other items in it case I need to freshen up—and out the door we go. Beast puts it in one of his saddlebags as I grab my helmet. It threatens to mess up my hair, but what else can I do?
We ride motorcycles here; it’s a way of life.
Beast kickstarts the engine and I feel the first pump of adrenaline race through me.
“Come to heel, pet. Or I’ll break you like I break my horses.”
Okay, Giulia Wolfe. Let’s go. Let’s see which one of us breaks first.
It sure as hell isn’t going to be me.
Rodeo by Lil Nas X and Cardi B is playing when I step into the thick swarm of college students. The doors of the apartment building are wide open, and there’s a long hall that leads to the building’s shared outdoor common area.
That’s where Johnny R. is set up, taking a breather to flirt with girls while the current song plays. I notice right off the bat that there’s a good mix of Ashbury High students in this mess, and offer up a small, muttered curse.
I wonder if anyone will recognize me? To be fair, I hardly recognize myself when I look in the mirror. I’m a ghost tonight. Posey’s ghost, maybe. Or just some awful, vengeful spirit who can’t stop digging her coffin-tipped nails into the palm of her hand.
“Let’s make this quick,” Sin offers up, having briefly switched out his shirt and vest for a pullover sweater. He’s the only one of the guys who can even remotely pretend to be the right age for this party although I must say, some of these college boys still look like exactly that—like boys. Colton is very much a man. “Grab someone who looks like an asshole, just in case he dies.”
I snort and glance back at Sin as he cocks a brow in my direction.
“Let’s pick someone who looks like they identify as a men’s rights activist.” I point out a group of bros in the back corner. “See those fuckers right there? I bet you a hundred bucks one of them brought roofies to this party.”
Sin curls up the edge of his lip as he studies the boys and then shakes his head, holding up a hand to indicate the snorting, guffawing trust fund jocks.
“Take your pick and let’s get out of here.”
I swing my blond hair over my shoulder and then make my way through the crowd, hating that party every second that I’m standing in it. What sort of party is this anyway? It’s like … the junior version of what happens at the clubhouse. Bold enough to entertain plenty of ill-meaning assholes, but without that edge, that bite that makes club life satisfying in so many ways.
I approach the group of bros, reaching out to tap the nearest one on the shoulder.
Imagine my surprise when he turns around and I see Trevone Hundley standing in front of me.
Oh. Shit.
He smiles at me … at first, but then the expression shifts to one of confusion.
“Sorry, thought you were someone else,” I murmur, and then start to move away when he reaches out and grabs my wrist.
“Gidget?” he asks, blinking stupidly down at me. Fuck. Guess my disguise isn’t as good as I thought it was, eh? Or maybe I was just that memorable to Trevone. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing, huh?” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest and already trying to figure a way out of this. Another boy moves up beside Trevone, and I see that it’s his best friend, Kellen Doughty.
Ugh.
This is going from bad to worse.
“Well, fuck me sideways,” Kellen grinds out, sneering at me with his too thin lips. He thinks he’s hot shit, but the only reason Trevone’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Tina Flacco, ever slept with him was to get back at Trevone. He’s nothing but a sidepiece fuckboy. That brings me peace as I stare back at him, wondering how best to get out of this without making a scene. “You split after dumping those bad drugs on us. No, don’t tell me: it was an errand for daddy dearest.”
“You wouldn’t sneer at me like that if you knew the things I did about Cat,” I say, letting the reality of the situation infuse my voice. “But keep calling him daddy dearest and see if your family doesn’t end up dead.” It’s like, not even a threat, just a simple reality.
Kellen’s sneer morphs into a frown as Trevone exhales and runs his palm over his shorn hair.
“Why did you do it?” Trevone asks, the tiniest thorn of hurt in his voice, like he might actually be upset that we made out once and then I fucked him over on his birthday. If he knew anything at all about me, he’d know that was just par for the course.
I think about his lips, and how inexperienced they felt, how weak, how unsure. And he’s a cocky teenage boy, don’t get me wrong. One of the better-looking ones, the most filled out. Still, he wouldn’t have been enough for me.
I’m just like those hot flames tearing through the forest, greedy and insatiable. I always need more. I crack my knuckles, fully aware of Sin’s presence as he slinks through the crowd, his gaze never straying from me. We don’t have a lot of time here; I don’t have the leisure of chatting about the good ol’ days.
“Look, I’ve got to go,” I start, but Trevone just shakes his head at me.
“You’re not even going to tell us why you did it?” he asks, and I offer him up a sharp look.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I remark, and it’s not even a joke. Somehow, I feel like Trevone can sense it.
“Where are you off to, all dressed up?” Kellen asks, tucking his hands into his pockets and narrowing his eyes on me. “We all know that Miss Daybreak didn’t ghost our entire school just to show up at a shitty college party months later.”
A thought occurs to me.
“Either of you have a fake ID?” I ask, raising a brow. “Because I was think
ing of hitting the casino.”
The boys exchange a look before turning back to me. Trevone’s brown eyes look contemplative, but Kellen just laughs at me.
“Yeah, right. Like we’d go anywhere with you after what you did to us. We could’ve fucking died.”
“But you didn’t, did you?” I query back, raising both brows and wondering if I’m not turning into my father already. I shouldn’t be asking these guys to go to the casino with me; it’s dangerous. At the same time, all I can think is what great cover they’ll make. Especially if they get caught up with security for being underage. What a fantastic distraction. “Anyway, screw the both of you. I have other plans tonight.”
I turn to walk away when Tre reaches out to grab my arm.
“Wait,” he says, and I feel those pretty vermillion lips of mine twist into a daring smile. Trevone appears to be mesmerized by my mouth. Too bad for him that it’s more than spoken for at this point. “We’re here with some of the others. We can all go together? This party is lame anyway.”
“Dude, what the hell?” Kellen asks, but I just shrug one smooth shoulder.
“Whatever. You want to give me a ride then?”
Tre nods, and then slips out his phone to text whoever it is that’ll be joining us.
“Sure thing. Let me just gather the crew.”
And so that’s how I end up inside Tre’s pickup with Kellen and Johnny K.
“So, you been in touch with Reba?” Tre asks as we drive the hour to the casino. It’s a tribal casino, so it’s outside of town, perched on the edge of the reservation. Its bright lights beckon wandering travelers as well as locals from a three-hour radius to its opulent interior and promise of easy wealth.
The casino itself gets a lot of visitors, but it’s banked in by untamed reservation land, national and state parks, and endless darkness. The woods are our only companion as we rattle down the road, and I keep my phone in my hand.
Just in case.
The guys—along with Cat and the dozen or so other Daybreakers with him—aren’t far behind us. Unfortunately, Dena’s pink convertible—the car she named the Baby—is right on our ass. She’s with Amiya and Chardou, but that’s unsurprising. The three of them are probably a harem of their own.
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