Page 182 of Blood & Throttle

“Stephan was weak,” Kane says flatly. “He wasn’t meant for this world. But he was still my blood. Until he turned on me.”

The door blasts inward.

Gunfire echoes like thunder and then Riot barrels into the room like a force of nature.

He’s blood-slicked and breathing like he’s tasted hell. Hisfists are clenched, jaw tight, chest heaving. His eyes land on me, and everything in him stills but only for a second.

Then he sees Kane. “Let her go,” he growls, voice like gravel sliding over broken bones. “Right fucking now.”

Kane doesn’t flinch. “You’re late.”

“Actually,” Riot snarls, stepping through the door like a storm in boots. “I’m right the fuck on time.” His voice drips with venom. “Hell’s been waiting for you, Kane. And I’m the reaper sent to drag your rotting corpse there.”

Kane turns slowly, unfazed. Calm. Amused.

“Riot Carter.” He says it like he’s spitting something sour off his tongue. “I have to admit, I’m impressed. You’ve survived longer than I expected. Crawled your way through the filth. Left a mess in every district. All for what?” He sneers. “A girl?” His eyes flick to me, then back to Riot. “You were entertaining once. A good distraction. A wildcard I could profit from. But now?” He takes a step forward, straightening his jacket like Riot’s beneath him. “Now you’re just dirt under my shoe. A gnat buzzing too close to the wrong flame. And I’m done swatting.”

Riot’s shoulders twitch. Fury pulses off him like heat from a wildfire.

“Yeah, well I know who the fuck you are too,” Riot snarls, lips curling as he spits a mouthful of blood at Kane’s feet. “But ifyoureally knew whoIwas, of what I’m capable of, you never would’ve touched her.”

His voice drops into a growl, raw and shaking with fury.

“You didn’t just take what’s mine. Youhurther. You put your filthy fucking hands on her. And that—” he steps forward, eyes blazing like a goddamn warpath— “that was your last fucking mistake in this lifetime, you dead piece of shit walking.”

Kane smirks like he’s already written Riot’s obituary.

“You think I’m afraid of some feral mutt with a fucking hero complex?” Kane scoffs, grinning like he’s already won.

“She’s not yours, Riot. She’smine. Always has been. My blood. My legacy. And you?” He laughs, sharp and mocking. “You’re just the idiot who thought he could play savior and outrun the inevitable.”

Riot lunges a step closer.

“Say another fucking word and I’ll rip your spine out with my bare hands,” he hisses.

And then his eyes find me. That’s when everything in me breaks and rebuilds in one breath. He’s bleeding. Bruised. Breathing like he fought an army. But those eyes… They’re locked on me like nothing else matters. Like I’m the reason he’s still breathing. I see it, all of it. The bodies he left behind. The blood that isn’t his. The chaos he walked through just to get to me. He didn’t just come for me. He carved a path of vengeance through hell. And he’s not leaving without me.

Even if it kills him.

Kane doesn’t even flinch. He watches Riot with that same goddamn smugness he’s worn since he walked in—like none of this touches him. Like Riot’s just a bug buzzing too loud.

“All that blood. All that death. And for what? To die here? Watching me gut her like a fucking deer?” Kane drawls.

Riot’s entire body tightens. He doesn’t speak yet, doesn’t move, just breathes. Heavy. Controlled.

“You know what I’m going to do to her, Riot?” Kane continues, voice a low, venomous purr. “I’m going to make it slow. Messy. I’ll start with her legs. Maybe her tongue—slice it out so she stops mouthing off. Then I’ll let you watch while I bleed her dry. I want you to hear it—every scream, every last fucking breath.”

Riot doesn’t snarl. He doesn’t scream. He justlaunches.A blur of fury. A living weapon set loose.

They slam into each other like meteorites colliding. Kane’s ready—clearly trained, fast for his age, every move precise—but Riot is pure rage and violence incarnate. He’s not fighting to win. He’s fighting toendhim.

Fists crack bone. Riot drives Kane into the metal shelving behind him, sending tools and rusted parts flying. Kane grabs a wrench and swings but Riot ducks low, slamming his shoulder into Kane’s ribs and tackling him to the concrete.

I scream as they roll, teeth bared, punches flying wild and brutal. Kane lands one. Two. Riot spits blood and laughs like a man who’s already dead inside but still chooses to burn.

Riot grabs Kane’s jacket and slams him into the concrete, hard enough to rattle bone. The impact cracks through the room, but Kane only snarls, teeth stained red, twisting beneath him like a serpent.

Fists fly, flesh meeting flesh in a sick rhythm of hate and vengeance. Riot’s knuckles split open, but he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t blink. He pummels Kane with the kind of rage that’s been festering since the second she disappeared. The kind that doesn’t stop until something breaks.