Reining Devotion: A Chaotic Rein novel

by Jenner, Haley

  Arching my back, I growl toward the ceiling, cracking my knuckles.

  “You’re asking me to go against my nature,” I warn.

  “No. I’m asking you to think. Don’t be your father. Don’t convince yourself you’re the monster the doubts in your mind attempt to tell you you are, Rocco. Don’t let your hunger for revenge blind you into failure.”

  “Anyone ever tell you you’re an asshole?”

  He laughs. “Not to my face.”

  I groan.

  “Trust can be a heavy burden to carry when you haven’t asked for it. But it’s also a strong fucking shield when you need it most. Don’t throw my trust away, Rocco. No matter how much you struggle to grasp it. It’s not something you can pick back up after you’ve let go. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.”

  I hate how much sense Dominic Rein makes. How his outlook on life mirrors my own. I hate that he’s smarter than me. That he’s honed his outlook as a weapon when I’m nothing but a self-loaded grenade, just waiting to fucking detonate. I hate that I know I should listen to him. I hate that he’s right. But more than any of that, I hate that I don’t trust myself to do any of that. I hate that my mind is so fucked up, that I don’t know if the moment I leave his home I’ll be strong enough not to betray him.

  It’s depressing as all hell that someone who should despise me has more faith in me than my family ever did, more than I’ve ever had in myself.

  Standing, I nod once, moving toward his office door.

  “Maybe Camryn is teaching you something in turn?”

  I pause at the door. “Huh?”

  “My men tell me you haven’t been fighting. Seems your focus on my daughter has quelled that violence hungry side of you. Maybe your friendship is equally rewarding.”

  He looks away, dismissing me without words.

  I want to tell him he’s wrong. I want to give him another reason as to why I’ve kept my distance from the ring. But I don’t have one. I hadn’t even noticed. Fighting, pain, longing… I hadn’t even recognized it’d been missing from my life.

  “Stop having me followed,” I bark out, slamming his office door as I leave.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Camryn

  “How are the nightmares?”

  He gives me the privacy I need to stomach the shock of his question. Back turned, his focus remains on the blender he’s tossing ingredients into.

  Protein shakes, he forces me to drink one after every workout. Fuel, he assures me. I’d prefer a fucking Snickers.

  I hadn’t really thought about my nightmares until the words fell from his mouth. They’ve been so few and far between since we started training. Especially on the days he demands a pound of flesh from my body, working me to the point of exertion. I barely have the energy to think, let alone dream.

  “Better.” I can hear the shock in my own voice. The surprise I feel at being able to admit that.

  “Good.” He nods, turning to look at me as he switches the blender on, the sound drowning out our ability to speak. He watches me carefully, the noise a barrier to our thoughts. We can stand in this moment, caught in a silent stare, watching one another without expectation. I can’t hear his thoughts, and he can’t hear mine.

  A lot passes between us in that minute. A recognition of friendship maybe?

  We’ve been breaking down walls without even realizing it over the past month. We challenge one another like no one else in our lives is brave enough to do. Our families approach us like we’re wounded animals. Ready to lose the final straw of our sanity if provoked. It’s not only humiliating, it’s exhausting. Pretending to be okay on days I feel ready to break.

  Rocco refuses to let me get caught up in my own head. He’s comfortable for me to be broken in his company. He doesn’t push me to talk or to be better. He only encourages me to use what’s fucking with my psyche to push through the roadblocks of my own body.

  “I haven’t seen you with any bruising,” I offer as the blender comes to a stop. “Either you’re untouchable, or you haven’t been fighting.”

  “I haven’t been fighting.”

  “Like my nightmares,” I guess.

  He nods. “Like your nightmares.”

  Giving me his back once again, he pours his awful concoction into two separate glasses. “Your dad thought we were fucking.”

  “He has me followed.”

  Sliding my glass toward me, I take it on a forced, but thankful smile. Lifting the glass, I touch it to my lips, taking the smallest sip I can manage. “Mmm.”

  His chin dips in acceptance, a pride at the fact that he succeeded in getting me to swallow this godawful drink.

  “You’re okay with that?”

  I lift my shoulders in dismissal. “What can I do about it? It’s his way of thinking he’s keeping me safe. I’d be an asshole if I forced him to stop, to take that peace of mind from him?”

  I place the glass down, thinking back to his earlier comment. “How are you still alive?”

  He laughs. “I managed to convince him that we weren’t.” His eyes bore into mine. “Fucking, that is. I told him you still hated me.” His voice has dropped, a soft scratch moving along his vocal cords.

  I swallow the rock in my throat at what the rough touch of his voice does to me.

  “Assuming he’s still right…” he probes.

  “Of course,” I answer too quickly, my voice a similar volume to his.

  The ring of his cell sounds, breaking the moment. Glancing at the screen, he holds it up. “Gotta take this.”

  He moves away without a further word. Alone in the room, I take advantage, emptying the green slush in my glass down the sink. Shifting off my seat, I rush to the sink flicking on the tap to rid the evidence from the sparkling metal. The tap turns on too fast. The pressure too much, it ricochets off the base, spraying up my shirt, hitting me in the face.

  “Serves you right.” Rocco’s voice sounds at my back.

  Turning quickly, I rub at my face, wiping at the droplets racing down my skin. “Look, in my defense, it’s awful.”

  He smiles. “It’s an acquired taste.”

  I don’t let myself read into how nice I find his smile. The soft pull of his lips showing off the white line of his teeth. The strong line of his bearded jawline pulling up in a way that hides the animosity that seems ingrained into his features.

  Eyes tracking along my body, down the now see-through material of my inconveniently chosen white t-shirt, his smile drops away.

  He steps closer, moving his lips to the shell of my ear. “I take it back, beauty. You’re not a disgusting little hermit. A hermit, yes, but not disgusting. Not like the thoughts running through my head right now.”

  Teeth on nipples, biting hard enough to make me come. Forcing me to beg for it.

  Ducking away from the full proximity of his overwhelming body, I force a laugh.

  “Get a grip, Shay. Your slushie was horrible, kind of like my sweaty self. I’m out. Catch you next week.”

  His smile follows my exit in its entirety, my body only free from his hungry gaze the moment his front door closes, essentially shutting him out. Even then, I feel him staring through the thick wood. His eyes as powerful as his body.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rocco

  My body buzzes with the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

  I feel alive. My heart is racing with expectation and excitement. My cock is hard; my blood pumping so steadily through my body I can feel it throbbing. My leg bounces as I drive, my fingers tapping against the steering wheel, working to rid myself of the excess energy wanting to break me apart.

  But while my body is a live wire ready to put to death anything that stands in my path, I feel dead inside. My hands itch with the need to kill, to maim, to watch the fragile reality of life crushed under the weight of my palm. This dark need only further blackens the venom of my soul. Soon it’ll be all that remains; shadows of destruction that once held slivers of good, patches of light. I’ve a
ccepted that’s not my future. Hearts and roses were never my ending. I’m at peace with the fact that I’ll eventually be buried alongside misery and scorn.

  Can you remain calm?

  Calm? Is he fucking kidding?

  I pray she fucking runs. I crave her fight. I want nothing more than for Sarah Rein to give me a reason to snap her double-crossing neck.

  Who could honestly say they’d remain calm while standing face-to-face with the person responsible for the death of their mom? I’d like Dominic Rein to tell me he wouldn’t suck the life out of a hopeless cunt that crossed him in the same way.

  The shrill ring of my cell interrupts my murderous thoughts and I’m equally relieved and disappointed.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just checking you haven’t skinned her alive and began feasting on her flesh.”

  I laugh humorlessly. “Ain’t no way I’m putting the taint of her insides into mine. My soul is rotten enough all on its own.”

  I suck in a deep breath, letting it go with the temptation Dominic just offered me. “Checkin’ up on me? Thought you trusted me.”

  “I do,” he implores. “I don’t trust her.”

  I laugh again. “Your wife can do her worst, Rein. Frankly, I’m prayin’ she does. It’ll give me an excuse to hurt her.”

  A sigh of disappointment filters down the line. “That’s what she wants, Rocco. Don’t let her pick away at your self-control.”

  “Yeah, yeah. She’ll come back to you in one piece, boss. Calm your fucking farm.”

  “I have no idea what that means, son. I hear Camryn say it to Codi regularly, but I’ve yet to understand how it makes sense. How does one ‘calm their farm’?”

  I smile unintentionally. “It means chill, Dominic. We have an agreement. Think what you will of me, but I do hold some fucking integrity.”

  “Good. I’d hate to have to kill you.”

  “I’d like to see you try, old man.” I hang up without another word.

  Have you ever been genuinely surprised by your own weakness? Not in a mildly unexpected sense, but smack you in the face, break your nose kind of way. The kind of surprise that makes you question who you are? Who you’ve always been?

  The storm only moments ago raging inside of me had been quelled without my interference. Without blood, without pain. My ranting beast pulled back into sleep with a lullaby I didn’t know was being sung.

  He did that.

  Dominic fucking Rein soothed the beast inside of me with a few bad jokes and what? Care? Kindness?

  Who the fuck am I? Am I that needy? Someone offers up the smallest hint of effort, of prudent thought and I roll over, begging they give me more? This family is weakening my resolve by the day. I just wish I could find anger or resentment within me for them for doing so. I want to hate them for coercing me into this vulnerability. I find myself not wanting to disappoint them. I want to win, for them. I’m no longer a solo act, my sole purpose protecting my brother and the legacy of my slain family. I’m part of a pack. One I’d sworn my life to destroy.

  I shouldn’t be surprised at how quickly life can change. A blink of an eye, a thickly drawn breath and everything you know can mutate.

  When I was sixteen, my life held a semblance of normality, of happiness. Then my mother was brutally ripped from my life and I was thrown into hell. Eighteen years later, consumed by hate and unresolved rage, I had plans to avenge my mother. I searched for peace, for vengeance. Then my brother fell in love with the very person I wanted to strip from this world. My life tipped upside down and inside out within seconds. Mira died. Marcus died. My vengeance was unwarranted and misaimed, pushing me into yet another dark path. One of self-destruction.

  If my life has taught me anything it’s to never get comfortable. The moment you fall into contentment, you’re weakened and that life you’re so comfortable in, it’ll fuck you without your permission.

  Pulling my car into a parking spot outside the derelict building, I glare at the rotting infrastructure. Why is it that when people go into hiding they find themselves living in a cesspit? You can guarantee if I’m ever placed in the position in which I don’t want to be found, I wouldn’t be shacked up with the likes of junkies and small-time criminals. It’s like a neon fucking sign. Nah, I’d be living it up in a fucking Four Seasons drinking top-shelf whiskey waiting for my ending.

  Tivoli, one of Dominic’s right-hands—and apparently my babysitter—taps at my window.

  Sighing in irritation, I swing my door open, forcing him a few steps backward.

  “You can stay out here.”

  He scowls. “Or you could.”

  “I don’t need a fucking minder. I’ll go in, grab her and be back out in less than ten minutes. She’s one woman.”

  “One unhinged psycho in hiding. Thought you’d know better than to underestimate a cornered animal.”

  I smirk.

  “You’re hoping she does something stupid.” He shakes his head. “Ah. Fuck. I wish Dominic had sent someone else, you’re gonna get me fucking killed. If not by her, by my boss. You got ten minutes then I’m following your stubborn ass in. Don’t get yourself killed, I enjoy my job.”

  Flipping him off, I tuck my 9mm into my jeans, my strides long as I make off toward the building’s front entrance.

  The inside of the building smells like how the outside looks. Putrid. The stale scent of meth, of sex, of fucking death climbing up my nostrils and turning my stomach. It’s eerily quiet. The sound of passed out junkies and people not wanting to be found like a bass drum, closing the walls in with every careful step.

  I move up the stairs slowly, making a note to burn my shoes when I get home. Fuck knows what bodily fluids I’m creeping across.

  Reaching the top of the stairs my feet pause, a group of teenage kids watching me in intent curiosity. It’s obvious they consider themselves the keepers of this derelict castle. Kings and queens of a world they’ve found purpose in.

  I’m no stranger to kids working to prove their power. It’s the only reason I don’t walk past them without acknowledgment, knowing damn well that’d find me with a nice sharp knife lodge in my spine.

  “Who ya lookin’ for?” one of them asks. Dude, barely eighteen with a tattoo above his eyebrow and a top knot that screams douchecanoe.

  “Brunette,” I answer cautiously, keeping my eyes trained on their movements. “Early fifties.”

  “You a cop?” he pushes.

  “Do I look like a cop?”

  He shrugs. “Not necessarily, but can’t be too cautious these days. What’s your business with Sarah?”

  “Old friend.”

  He smiles, brushing a tongue piercing along the line of his teeth. “Slim, you owe me a Benjamin Franklin, told you she was hidin’. He guessed she was a high-class workin’ girl.”

  Not feeling the need to participate in their little game, I stand silently, waiting.

  “Thing is,” douchecanoe speaks again. “I tell you where she is and an avenue of my income dries up. Bitch loves her blow.”

  I bark out an annoyed laugh.

  “She’s in unit four,” a blonde, boredom coating her from head to toe murmurs. She doesn’t show me the courtesy of lifting her head when she speaks, keeping her head tipped down, concentrating on rolling a joint. “Straight down the hall, second door on your right.”

  Eyebrow raised, I wait for her to look me in the eye, to see the truth in her eyes. I don’t trust these slimy fuckers, not for a second.

  She’s older than the rest of them, just. Hair cropped at the sides, the rest artfully crafted into a smooth mohawk. Clothing purposefully worn, ripped in sections by design. She wears a safety pin through one earlobe and lipstick the color of midnight on her full lips. She’s tiny, but looking at the glint in her eyes—when she finally meets my gaze—there’s no mistaking the rebellious warrior that she is.

  Her dark eyes scan up and down my body, bottom lip tipping out in appreciation as she steps forward. She keeps my eyes as s
he slides a joint into the side of her mouth. “Bitch tried to fuck my man. She’s lucky I didn’t kill her. The only thing that saved her was that he ain’t into crusty granny pussy.” Done with the conversation, she shoves past me. “Let’s go.” She gestures toward the stairs, her crew falling in step behind her.

  Queen fucking B, a pint-sized pixie.

  “There are kids in this building.” She turns back to me. “They see enough shit. You kill the bitch, make sure their eyes ain’t watchin’ you.”

  “Shouldn’t you all be in school?” My eyes fall across them.

  I know I sound like a fuckwit. Too young to be spouting shit about kids staying in school, just too old to care.

  The pixie laughs. “I wish people would accept the fact that some of us ain’t interested in bettering ourselves. We’re happy here thanks, dad. More so than the rest of the assholes out there in the big, wide world. We’re not looking for something greater. We’ve created it ourselves. Make sure you and the bitch are gone by this afternoon.”

  I watch their exit, understanding, and appreciation settling into my soul. She’s right. The world is hellbent on wanting, needing more. Self-actualization doesn’t exist. Not in the modern world. We grab onto what we’ve been fighting for, onto something we’ve been conditioned to think we need, expecting to find endless happiness. Except, all that meets us at the end of that rainbow is disappointment. Happily ever after ain’t real. We discard our own accomplishments with the need for more before the present has even settled, before we’ve had a chance to enjoy our achievements. We’re never satisfied.

  I move along the hallway, the carpet under my feet worn so heavily through the cement flooring can be seen. Paint peels from the walls in jagged clouds; some hanging on, others trampled into the shitty carpet.

  The four on Sarah’s door hangs upside down like every cliched story come to life. The door slightly ajar, welcoming anyone to wander in and claim their space.