She strolls toward the door, movements casual. Suspicious as fuck. I follow.
“What do you want, Fade Vader?” she asks the moment I’m facing her.
I sigh. Damn her and her nicknames. Does she have a fucking list?
I pull out my phone and start scrolling. “I’m sending you a file. It’s a recording.” I glance at her, then back down. “It’ll help Adora if she spirals while she’s here. Works best if she counts to ten while it plays.”
She purses her lips and cocks her head, studying me.
“Why didn’t you send this recording months ago?” Her eyes narrow dangerously. “That’s when she needed it most, youknow. She’s better now. Stronger. She can survive the clubhouse without a problem. She’s thriving here, actually.”
I close my eyes for a second. Breathe through the pain cutting straight into my chest.
“I didn’t have it recorded back then, Ria,” I murmur. “And she’s got me blocked or something. None of my messages ever got through.”
I hitsend. My nostrils flare the second a red‘failed’appears.
“When the fuck didyoublock me?” I growl.
She smiles smugly, pulls out her phone, and starts tapping.
“After I shot you with the dart. Felt like the perfect ending to our hate song, Ghoulio Iglesias.” She looks at me, still smiling. “You can send it now,” she chirps.
“Don’t block me again. Not until this whole snake mess is over,” I snap, sending it again.
“You got it, Poltergrump,” she declares, offering a mock salute that sends a flare of irritation through me. How the hell does Tank deal with her?
“Good,” I murmur, checking the time. “If you don’t leave now, you’ll be late to the shop. And Adora’s due at the bookstore.”
She crosses her arms and smirks. “Still planning to play second fiddle to Domino?”
I see red. Instantly. The second she says that fucker’s name. He’s always too close to her. Too fucking friendly. And she smiles at him. Careless. Easy. Just like she used to smile at me.
It hurts. It fucking hurts.
I can’t believe I’m the one who sent him to her in the first place. Fuck my life.
I turn and head for my bike without a word, leaving Ria cackling behind me.
I swing a leg over the seat and settle onto the bike, thinking about the best spot to hole up today. There’s one with a perfect view of the bookstoreandthe coffee shop.
I sigh. I’ll need to keep an eye onBelladonna Brewtoo. Just in case.
The moment everyone walks through the clubhouse doors, I turn the key. The engine roars to life… and so does something else.
PFFFFFT.
A burst of soft, sparkly, and horrifyingly pink air hits me in the face. Like a fairy princess just threw up all over me.
“What the fuck,” I murmur, stunned. Completely fucking stunned.
Fine glitter explodes around me in a shimmering cloud. It’s everywhere! Raining down from under the handlebars, sticking to my jacket, clinging to my beard, coating my sunglasses. My hands look like I just strangled a unicorn.
I sit there, frozen. Sparkling. Pink. Fucking pink.
Tiny flecks drift through the air in slow motion, catching the sunlight like I’m in the world’s worst magic show. A couple of prospects near the clubhouse burst into laughter. One of them actually doubles over.
I don’t move. Not a fucking twitch. I just breathe through my nose, rage simmering under my skin. I knew Mindfuck started a prank war weeks ago, I just didn’t think anyone was stupid enough to mess with me. They all know I don’t deal with childish shit.
