Page 286 of Blackwood

August claps his hands. “Finally.”

He lines up eight glitter-rimmed shot glasses, Wexley Wolves decals and all. He pours generously, spilling half of it with chaotic flair.

“Hey,” Cade says, reaching for a towel. “You’re wasting it.”

Knox shrugs. We all grab our glasses.

Ellie lifts hers first, a wicked glint in her eyes. “To chaos.”

Haley bumps hers. “To the baddest Wolves in the den.”

Cade raises his and nods toward me. “To getting her home in one piece.”

Cal grins. “To whatever happens, happens. We all remember the Hamptons.”

August bows. “To Queen Bella.”

Knox throws both hands in the air like he just dropped the bass. “To tequila, bitches!” he yells, spinning around likehe’s on stage at Coachella. “Tonight’s forecast? 100% chance of blackouts.”

Lex lifts his and looks straight at me. “To the girl who brought the whole damn pack to its knees.”

They all look at me. “To you all, to my family. I don’t know how I would have gotten through all of this without each and every one of you. I love you guys.”

We throw them back in unison, the tequila burning down like liquid regret. Ellie and Haley dart to the mirror for last-minute touch-ups and to put on our new outfits. Cal heads upstairs to hype the crowd and Knox grabs his mic and heads toward his booth.

Lex pulls me aside, one arm around my waist, backing me into the brick wall with no apology. His mouth brushes my ear. “Can’t wait to get you home, baby. That chair routine? That rain dance? Wearing my name like it’s your goddamn birthright? Yeah. I’ve got plans for you.”

I smirk, tilting my face up to his. “You better.”

He groans, then crashes his mouth against mine—fast, hard, dirty. Like a promise. When he pulls back, his voice is rough. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I know,” I whisper, lips brushing his. “Now go before I forget we have a party to host, I need to change.”

He grins and backs off just as Cade grabs my hand and Ellie calls out, “Boys, get out!”

Chapter 78

LEX

The Catacombs – hoping my Bestie puts me in a chair tonight.

63 Days Since Henry’s Death

The Catacombs might be under the Row, but it’s got its own pulse. Brick archways. Candelabra sconces lit with flickering purple LEDs. Glow shots lining the bar like a candy-colored arsenal. The DJ booth is up on a balcony, and Knox is already leaning over it like he’s about to baptize the room in chaos.

Cade stands next to me, one arm slung around my waist, drink in his other hand. His shirt’s half unbuttoned, God he’s hot. His hazel eyes are scanning the room like he’s waiting for her.

The lights flicker from violet to gold and then Knox’s voice booms through the speakers like a fucking thunderclap. “YO WEXLEY!” he shouts, mic hot and hyped. “Welcome to the hottest, dirtiest, wildest night of the semester… The Pulse at the Catacombs!”

The crowd explodes.Drinks fly, bodies jump, the room shakes. Cade and I yell with them, caught in the current.

Knox grins down at us from the booth. “You came for a party, you came for heat—and baby, we don’t disappoint. So, let’s give it up for the Queens of Wexley. The wolves who wear stilettos and set fire to the floor every damn time.”

The bass cuts, just for a second. Then it kicks back hard as he growls into the mic, “THE TRIFECTA.”

Spotlights blast from the side curtain. And then they walk out. All three of them in shredded black leather pants—slits riding high, hugging every curve. Boots tall enough to kill a man. And those tops? Bright yellow leather, cropped tight across their chests. Their names stamped across their tits in bold black letters like glittering warning labels.

The second they hit center stage, Knox leans over the mic, grinning like a proud dad and a reckless best friend all in one.