A few minutes later, I’m deep in a mountain of pancakes drenched in syrup, halfway to food nirvana, when Temperance strolls in. Hair a mess, movements lazy, eyes half-lidded.
“Morning,” she yawns.
Before anyone can say anything, Ria pipes up with zero shame.
“You look thoroughly fucked, Tempe,” she declares loudly, chewing on a strawberry.
“Oh, God,” Mama groans, pointing her spatula at Ria. “You, young lady, are nothing but trouble.”
Temperance just laughs, pouring herself a lake of coffee. “That she is.”
She takes a seat at the table, watching me carefully. “I heard what happened. You alright?”
I nod slowly, and take a peek at Mama. She’s distracted, rifling through a cabinet.
I lean in, my voice dropping. “I need help. Ghost said he’ll be my bodyguard against the snake people.Him. Personally. Not another biker.Him. Following me around all day, like there’s not a whole club full of bikers who could do the job just fine.” I grit my teeth, a shiver going down my spine. “It’s fucked up.”
They both freeze.
“How close to death do you want to bring him?” Temperance asks, voice deadly calm.
“I still have poisoned darts left over,” Ria adds sweetly at the same time.
“What? No!” I whisper-screech. “No stabbing or shooting,” I nod at Temperance, then point at Ria. “And no poisoning. Not anymore.”
“But,” I flash a wicked grin, “I do want to make him regret ever coming up with the idea.” I glare “And then leave me the fuck alone.”
Ghost
The second I step out of the kitchen, I make a beeline for the gym.
“Ghost,” I hear Bones calling after me, but I don’t stop.
“Half an hour,” I bite out.
“You’ve got an hour. Then Church,” he shoots back.
I don’t even close the door of the gym behind me. Don’t glance at the gloves. Or the wraps. I rip my shirt off in one motion and march straight to the bag.
I start swinging.
No warm-up. No rhythm. Just my fists, over and over. Hard. Brutal. Stupid. Until sweat drips into my eyes. Until my knuckles split open and leave blood smears behind. I don’t feel it. Not the sting. Not the burn. Not the slick, red mess sliding down my fingers.
Pain can’t touch me right now. I’m already burning from the inside out.
Divorce.
I hadn’t thought about it once. Not in all these months. I was too wrapped up in so much self pity that the thought didn’t even cross my mind. The last thread connecting us.
And I can’t even say no. Not a chance in hell. I can delay the outcome for as long as possible. Stall. Pretend like I have a say. But the end? It's already written.
And fuck, she deserves it. To be completely free of me. I don’t even have the right to be angry about it. I can only accept it. I can only beg for a small reprieve. Just to get used to the idea, before the guillotine drops.
“Fuck,” I growl, landing three more punches in rapid fire. Like I’m trying to outrun the dread raking at my ribs.
“You’re bleeding all over that thing,” Pops mutters, stepping in and steadying the bag with both hands.
“Don’t care,” I grunt, not slowing down.
