Page 49 of Broken Breath (Rogue Riders Duet #1)
Delacroix pipes up at that. “Where is Petit ? I wanted to celebrate him. He fucking did it!”
Piper’s gaze flicks between us. “Yeah, where is he?”
“Men’s bathroom. Gondola station.”
Her expression hardens. “Is he okay?”
My gaze flicks to Delacroix before I shake my head, making her grab her backpack tighter and take off at a run. I follow, but so does Delacroix.
We push through the crowd, cutting a path back to the station, and when we shove open the bathroom door, Piper halts mid-step .
Alaina is standing there, her long legs bare except for the padded black underwear all the riders wear, red streaking the insides of her thighs. She’s leaning over the sink, scrubbing at the bloodstains in her racing pants with an angry expression and tears in her eyes.
I’ve never wanted to hold someone together more than I do right now.
But I don’t have that right.
“Is that blood? What the fuck ? We need an EMT, not Piper!” Delacroix’s eyes are wide and frantic as he takes in the scene, halfway shoving me aside to get to Alaina, but Dane is quicker.
He steps between Delacroix and the doorway, blocking him, holding his ground even though Delacroix looks like he’s about to come unhinged.
Piper slips past all of us, and then Dane pushes me back, too, grouping me with Delacroix. “Out.”
I stumble backward, shaking out of my stupor, and Dane follows, slamming the door behind us.
He plants himself in front of it, arms crossed over his chest and feet spread like he’s the men’s room bouncer. I fall in beside him, mirroring his stance without even thinking, like my body knows we need to hold the line.
Delacroix paces in front of us like a caged animal, his eyes burning, cursing in French under his breath. Eventually, he loses it and tries to shove past us.
Dane holds up a hand, palm flat against his chest, stopping him cold. “ Back off. ”
He sneers. “You don’t want to find out what happens when you make me mad, mon ami .”
Dane doesn’t even blink. “You’re not needed here. You want to be useful? Go handle the press. Tell them Al’s not feeling well enough for the podium. Grab the trophy for him.”
Delacroix scoffs, shaking his head like we’re speaking a language he doesn’t understand. “I don’t give a fuck what you two think.”
He leans in, his voice pitching just enough to carry through the door. “ Petit! Tell me if you need me. If you want me in there, I don’t care how, I will get in there.”
Heat crawls up the back of my neck as I watch him, frustration sparking even through the haze of concern.
Bastard.
As far as I know, he’s never cared this much about anyone , but here he is, looking like he’s ready to burn the whole building down just to get to Alaina.
Since when are they this close?
I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
The tension feels like it’s about to snap when Dane yells over his shoulder, “Tell your guard dog to back off, Al!”
A moment later, Alaina’s fake deep voice comes muffled through the door. “Luc, I’m fine. Can you go grab the trophy for me, please? We’ll talk later.”
Delacroix freezes, shoulders tightening. “Promise you’re all right?”
“Promise.”
He stares at the door for several beats like he’s still calculating the best way to kick it down, but then drags a hand down his face instead. “Okay, Petit .” His voice softens. “We’re gonna celebrate you kicking my ass later. Piper?”
“Yeah?” Piper calls back.
“Don’t fuck this up. And call me when he needs me!”
Piper huffs out a laugh. “Will do, you love-sick puppy. Now fuck off.”
Dane and I both swivel at the same time, eyes wide, staring at Delacroix.
Love-sick puppy?
Delacroix’s face does this thing, a half-grin, half-scowl, but what he doesn’t do is deny it. Just turns on his heel and stalks off, muttering in French, probably cursing all of us out as he heads toward the podium.
My brain stutters over the information, trying to piece together the picture that just got dropped in my lap.
Does he know? Does Delacroix know who she is?
No. No fucking way. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
But either way, he’s into her .
What the actual fuck.
I’ve got no right to feel the burn of that, no claim or stake, I know that, but it smolders away, so fucking deep I feel like it’s melting something inside me.
Delacroix is out here, loud and unashamed, wearing his heart on his sleeve, ready to throw punches, ready to storm through anyone who stands in his way.
He’s showing up for her, no questions, no apologies, and I’m standing outside after watching her light up the world, pretending I’m not desperate to be a part of it, and I haven’t wanted to step into that fire since the second she kissed me.
I’m the coward.
I’m the one too afraid to want her out loud.
Delacroix might not even know who she really is, but it doesn’t fucking matter. He’s fighting for her, and I’m standing on the sidelines, smothering my want with worry, and watching someone else take up the space I gave away.
God, it hurts worse than I ever imagined it could.