Page 6 of Hidden

Humour was as good a technique as any.

Every other member of the Descendants had a solid in with the club—Dante and Macbeth were grandchildren of the current president. Trent and Chris were the kids of Zach, a high-ranking, fully patched member. And whilst I enjoyed being around the lads, they didn’t understand that I needed to fight harder than all of them to prove my worth.

As Warrior would say—they were the next generation, and I was the club stray.

Shaking my head, I pushed away the heavy topic and called out. “Right… which one of you kicked a man when he was down? Who wounds someone when they’ve just fallen exactly twenty-seven stories?”

“I did,” that same angelic voice called back to me. I brought my hand up to shield my eyes and scanned the park for the source. “And for the record, you’re not a man, and you fell no more than a meter at best.”

“She’s got a point,” Macbeth laughed.

“I hardly think you’re in any position to judge someone’s character,” Dante scowled. “When you’re named after someonebecause you’re both spiteful, jealous bastards, it would probably be best to sit this one out and reflect on your own shortfalls.”

“Ooh, there’s a lover’s tiff. Quick, Gabs, place your bets,” another feminine voice giggled. Snapping my head to the side, I followed the sound until I saw two young lasses sat on a bench not too far from us.

One blonde, one dark-haired. Heaven and Hell. Darkness and light.

And, of course, something inside of me, some darkness within, called to the little black-haired demon.

“I dunno, Natalie,” the object of my new obsession replied with a vicious smirk. “They are Devils after all. Never saw a fight that a Devil won. What happens when you put two Devils together? That’s gotta, like, break the Matrix or something.”

“You wound me,” I called back, clutching my chest.

“I’m sure it’s no worse than the damage you’ve done to yourself. What were you doing up there, anyway?” She shouted at us, frowning at me.

“Well, he wasn’t fucking baking a cake, was he?” Macbeth growled, coming to stand in front of me and Dante, as though we needed his protection. “And you two should know better than to be on Disciples’ property.”

“The park is neutral ground, jerk-off,” she said, changing her position until she was sat on the backrest of the bench, rather than the seat. “And unless you fancy coming over here and shifting us yourselves, there’s not really much you can do about it, is there?”

Her grin was pure smug satisfaction, and I had to bite down on my cheek to stop from responding with a laugh of my own.

“What happens when Daddy Dearest finds out you’ve been breaking the rules, Gabriella?” he shot back, and even from this distance, I saw the way her face paled. “Yeah, that’s right. I know all about you,Rider.” The words were said with such disgust,and Macbeth spat on the floor afterwards as though it had left a nasty taste in his mouth.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Dante turning his head in my direction, giving me an angry glare. I knew what he was saying. Rough Riders or not, these girls were our age, and Macbeth was sixteen. He had no business issuing them threats.

Nodding at me, he took a step forward, and I followed instinctively, not knowing what we were doing, but knowing Dante and I were a team. I’d catch up on the plan on the job.

“Macbeth,” he said in a cold, sinister tone, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t go calling for Daddy. That makes you look a pussy.”

“Do we really have a pussy as the leader of the Descendants?” I asked, also wrapping my arm around Macbeth’s neck.

I felt Dante’s arm tense, and on the mental count of three, we both put our legs out and pushed Macbeth forward, tripping him up and causing him to face-plant the grass.

Dante wasted no time jumping on his back and gathering up his arms to pin them down his spine. “You girls go on and get yourselves home,” he called out to the two young things that had been watching our every move. “There’s no trouble here—so long as you’re not looking for it.”

“We’re not,” the blonde one called out. “Come on, Gabby. We’re out of here.”

She pulled on the arm of the dark-haired girl—Gabby—but she didn’t budge an inch.

Instead, there was a frown on her face, her eyes scanning back and forth between Dante, his brother, Laura, and myself.

And then, for reasons unknown to me, but only knowing that I hated seeing her—or any woman—in distress, I darted forward, grabbed Macbeth’s head and waggled my hips above him like a dog claiming territory, making ridiculous barking noises as I did so.

“Luke!” Macbeth growled, struggling against Dante’s hold. “Get the fuck out of my face, Luke! I’ll fucking string you up for this.”

I barked at him a few more times and then: “Gotta catch me first!” Laughing, I scrambled fully to my feet and took off running before Dante released him. I paused for a split second, dropping my trousers just enough to flash my backside at Macbeth, and pushed back off into a sprint.

I passed the girls and tipped a fake hat in their direction.