Page 24 of Desert Sky (RB MC #4)

JD

I shouldn’t have looked.

I should’ve kept walking, let the moment pass.

But the second I saw her—I couldn’t breathe.

She hadn’t changed. Same eyes. Same fire. Sitting there with some guy holding her hand like he had a right to.

I didn’t remember what Evie said next. I stood so fast my chair screeched.

“JD?” she asked, confused.

“I need air,” I said, storming toward the exit.

I saw them in the alley. Her with him. Her with *him*.

He was touching her face like she belonged to him. Like he knew her. Like he’d *earned* her.

Rage boiled inside me.

I didn’t go to them. Not yet. Instead, I turned on my heel and stormed toward the car.

Evie followed, heels clicking fast. “JD, what the hell just happened in there?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped. “Who was she?”

I said nothing .

Evie’s voice rose. “Oh my God. That’s *her*. That’s the girl, isn’t it?”

“Evie—”

“You told me you were over her.”

I opened the car door. “I never said that.”

Silence.

Then a sharp slap cracked across my face. I didn’t even flinch.

“You bastard,” she hissed. “I deserve better.”

“You do,” I agreed coldly.

Evie stormed off down the sidewalk, and I slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel until my knuckles went white.

The girl I couldn’t forget was back.

And she wasn’t alone.

The second her eyes left mine, the rage that had been boiling beneath my skin erupted.

She was here. Skye. Alive. Breathing the same air as me. And she was with him?

I didn’t think. I just moved—each step hammering the pavement like war drums. My fists curled, the bones in my knuckles begging to connect with something.

He stepped between us before I could get too close.

“Back off,” he said, voice low and tense.

I glared, deadly calm. “Move. Or this gets real ugly, real fast.”

“You touch her,” he growled, “you answer to me.”

I scoffed, stepping forward, my nose nearly touching his. “You’ve got no idea what I’ve walked through to get here. No idea what she meant to me.”

Skye jumped between us, hands pushing against our chests. “JD, Tyler, stop! This isn’t helping!”

But the heat was already spilling over. Tyler threw the first punch. I saw it coming but let it land—just to feel something. Then I cracked him in the jaw, sending him stumbling.

We traded blows—grunting, fists cutting through humid air. Tyler had training, sure. But I had fury. I had six years of ghosts screaming inside my chest. I fought like a man who’d been robbed of his soul.

Skye screamed again, her voice breaking. “Please! JD, STOP!”

I grabbed her arm—not rough, not forceful, just enough to make her look at me.

“Come with me,” I said, voice hoarse.

She yanked back. “Not now. Not like this.”

A crooked grin tugged at my mouth before I could stop it. “You used to love coming in my truck.”

Her cheeks burned. I saw the way her breath hitched.

Tyler stood behind her, blood trickling down his lip, fury in his eyes. “Don’t go with him. You don’t owe him anything.”

She turned toward him slowly, voice trembling. “Six years, Tyler. It’s been a lifetime… and still, it feels like yesterday.”

I reached again, softer now. “It’s just a ride to the hospital, darlin’. That’s it. I know your mom’s in there. I’ll drop you off, no tricks. No games.”

She stared at me. Searching. The wind tugged strands of her hair around her face, and I remembered what it felt like to push it behind her ear. To kiss her temple. To hold her close when she cried.

Her eyes darted between me and Tyler, a war waging behind them.

Then she nodded .

Without another word, she walked past Tyler, brushing her fingertips across his arm in quiet apology.

“Skye…” Tyler said, voice breaking.

She didn’t look back. “I-I owe him...”

I opened the passenger side of my truck and watched her climb in.

Tyler stood alone in the alley, fists trembling, jaw tight.

I didn’t gloat. Didn’t smile.

Because this wasn’t a victory.

This was the beginning of a storm.

She sat silent in the passenger seat, pretending she wasn’t trembling inside.

But I felt it.

The way her arms wrapped around her ribs. The way her leg bounced slightly, a nervous tic she used to have when she was trying not to cry.

She thought this was a ride to the hospital.

But I wasn’t taking her there.

I flicked my phone open at a red light, thumb hovering over River’s name.

Get the cellar ready. She's coming. Don’t ask questions.

You sure about this?

Never been more.

I slid the phone into my jacket pocket and turned back to the road. Every streetlight we passed brought us closer—not to the hospital, but to the edge of something we couldn’t come back from.

My grip on the steering wheel tightened .

She’d run once. Disappeared. Took everything I gave her and left me with dust in my mouth and rage in my veins.

This time, she wasn’t slipping through my fingers.

I’d chain her to that bed if I had to. Keep her there until the lies shattered and the truth spilled out of her mouth.

Until she *remembered*.

What we were. What we *are*.

The Royal Bastards clubhouse loomed in the distance—dark, brutal, familiar.

She shifted in her seat, blinking. “This… this isn’t the hospital.”

“No,” I said, gravel in my voice. “It’s not.”

Her head turned slowly toward me, eyes wide. “JD—what are you doing?”

I didn’t answer.

Because this wasn’t a conversation.

It was a reckoning.