Page 25 of Beautifully Shattered (Secrets & Scars #3)

My mind is like a hamster on a wheel. A never-ending stream of thoughts as I replay everything that happened today in my head.

The funerals.

Wendy.

The shower and my milk.

The ambush.

In the last week, I’ve killed four people. Three of them were in the last twenty-four hours.

I’m not sure what to do with that.

Who am I becoming?

I’m not sure I like this version, but… well, now I feel like less of a victim.

Now I feel like the predator. Which makes no sense since I’ve had zero training. Just outbursts of blinding rage that hijack my body until I’m left standing in the aftermath, blinking at the carnage I’ve created.

It should repulse me. The violence by my hands should terrify me.

But it doesn’t.

If Bobbi were still alive… and these people were trying to get to her… trying to hurt her… well, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d kill anyone who dared.

She may not be here now, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m her mother, and I’m not going to stop walking this path until every one of those monsters is dead.

And what happens after that? I have no bloody idea.

“I can feel you thinking, Angel.”

Ringo’s warm breath ghosts over my hair before he presses a kiss to my forehead, and I snuggle even closer.

“Sorry. A lot happened today. I’m just trying to process it.”

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks quietly, and I shrug against him.

“Did any of the Marx crew die tonight?” My mind flashes to the man I saw on fire, screaming in agony.

“I haven’t got a final tally from Griffin yet, but yes, Angel. There were some casualties on our side.”

And there it is again. That sick, gnawing guilt.

I feel guilty for smiling. Guilty for the people suffering because they chose to help me. Guilty for every single life lost in my name.

“The men who work for the Marx family… are they like your club brothers? Like is the Marx crew their family? Or is it just a job, and they’ve got partners and kids waiting for them at home?”

Shifting next to me, Ringo’s fingers hook under my chin, tilting my head up until I’m looking into his eyes.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“But I do,” I whisper, knowing my voice will crack if I try to speak louder.

“I know, Angel.” He leans in and kisses the apples of my cheeks, making me feel more cherished than I deserve.

“I need to know about the people risking their lives to protect me.” I insist, and he sighs, nodding before he shifts us so I’m half-draped across his chest, my fingers immediately tracing small circles over his pecs.

“The men in the Marx crew are employees. It’s their job. An extremely well-paid job,” Ringo explains. “Their families are looked after for life if something happens. They know the risks. Most are highly trained ex-soldiers and special ops.”

“So, they’re here on protection detail, with us, and with your mum and sisters too?”

He stiffens beneath me. “How’d you know about that?”

“Jols told me,” I admit. “And before you get shitty with her, just remember, she wouldn't have had to tell me if you had.”

With my ear against his chest, I hear the deep rumble of his disapproval as much as I feel it.

“I didn’t want to add to your stress,” he pauses. “What else did Jols tell you?”

I shrug, like it’s no big deal. “She told me where Wendy was being kept.”

“For fuck’s sake. That’s how you knew where to find her?” he snaps, and I nod against his chest.

“If you tell her off for it, I’ll stop speaking to you.”

In an instant, Ringo flips us, pinning me beneath him, his naked body pressing into mine.

Goddamn this post-birth bleeding. I want my panties off and his dick inside me right now.

“You can try to stop speaking to me, Angel. But I can guarantee you’ll be screaming my name in no time when I’m sucking on your needy clit.”

I gasp, slapping his shoulder, and the bed shakes with his rumbling laughter.

“Even so, that’s all you’ll get out of me,” I counter, but hell, who am I kidding? I’ll be putty in his hands.

“You mean I won’t have to listen to any wifely whining?”

My mouth drops open in shock as he snickers, so I pinch his nipples. Hard.

He yelps, laughing as he tries to bat my hands away, before catching my wrists, and pinning them above my head.

“Now look what you’ve gone and done.” He grins down at me, and I can feel exactly what he means, his hard dick pressing into my thigh.

Heat unfurls deep in my core, and I grind against him without thinking. Only feeling. And a moment later, the familiar sensation tingling through my nipples has me stiffening.

“Shit,” I hiss, and Ringo stills, leaning back to get a better look at my face.

“What is it?”

“I’m leaking again,” I admit, sighing.

That unmistakable let-down sensation fizzles in my breasts, reminding me that my body is making milk .

Shifting back a little more, Ringo’s gaze drops to my bare chest, and mine follows, seeing how tightly peaked my nipples are.

“They don’t look full again,” he acknowledges, looking a little confused.

“No… I think it’s because I’m aroused.”

A slow, cheeky grin lifts his lips.

“What a coincidence. So am I.”

I snort a laugh, and he cups my breast, his touch like a soothing heat pack as I arch into him.

“I’m also really fucking thirsty,” he rasps, licking his lips.

I shake my head. “I don’t think we should—”

My words cut off the second his hot mouth closes over my nipple, and just like that, we’re both moaning as we share a pleasure I never knew was possible until tonight.