Page 30 of Desert Sky (RB MC #4)

JD

T he air in the Royal Bastards clubhouse was thick with testosterone and rage.

Tarak hurled a chair across the barroom with a roar that rattled the walls. “They played us! Our women played us!”

Edge smashed a bottle of bourbon against the wall, glass shattering like his pride. “Regan, that damn woman! Always stirring the pot!”

River leaned against the bar, sipping his whiskey with a smirk, clearly amused. “Damn, it’s about time the women ran a better op than you bastards.”

I stood dead center, my fists clenched so hard the veins in my arms bulged. My jaw ticked, eyes black with fury. “No more nice guy. Skye wants to play? Fine. I’ll go full MC on her. She wants to test me, she’ll learn what happens when you break a North?—”

I cut off, bitterness flashing in my eyes. The women had been gone over a day with no communication except smirking and other annoying emojis coming in from burner phones. They were safe but not from us once we get our hands on them.

“I’m sorry,” JD muttered to the room. “I didn’t mean for Skye to influence your women like this.”

Edge scoffed, dragging a hand through his hair. “Regan doesn’t need Skye to raise hell. That woman’s been a fire-cracker since day one.”

A loud crash echoed down the hallway. One of the pledges came running, soaked and sputtering. “Toilet’s overflowed, and someone poured sugar in the gas tanks of the bikes out back!”

Another groaned from behind the bar. “I got babysitting duty because I let ‘em slip past me. This is bullshit.”

Hacker was going feral at his station, wires and monitors blinking in chaos. “I can’t find them. It’s like they ghosted me—again!”

Then, a ping.

Hacker’s phone lit up. A call from Regan.

He put it on speaker.

“Boys,” Regan cooed sweetly, “don’t stress too hard. We’ve already left Spain. Got postcards and souvenirs for all of you.”

Edge growled, “Regan, I swear, bring Skye back now or?—”

“Oooh,” Regan purred, voice thick with playful sass. “I can’t wait for your punishment, baby.”

My nostrils flared, but I was too angry to speak for a moment. “Put her on mute for a sec.”

Then I turned to Edge, voice low and lethal. “When they land, bring Skye to the old safe house in the mountains. I’ve already stocked it with supplies. I’ll be waiting.”

Edge’s brow rose. “You sure about that?”

“I’m done playing games. It’s time for a reckoning. ”

The room fell into silence.

I nodded at Edge to unmute the call. Edge slammed his hand down on the bar. “What the fuck is in Spain, Regan? What the hell did you fly all the way across the world for?”

Regan’s voice was cool, calculated, but with fire underneath. “Ghosts. Skye’s old ghosts. Ones that should’ve stayed buried but didn’t.”

My entire body went rigid. A slow, dangerous realization hit with fury. “Mommy dearest,” I growled. “I fucking knew it!”

I grabbed the nearest glass and hurled it across the room, shattering it into a hundred jagged pieces. The room went still.

Edge’s eyes narrowed. “You think Clarissa had something to do with Skye leaving?”

My fists clenched again, blood boiling. “Not think—know. It’s her. It’s always been her. She poisoned everything.”

River whistled low. “Looks like we’re not the only ones going hunting.”

I turned to Edge. “When Regan brings her back, she’s mine. And Clarissa? I’ll deal with her personally.”

The storm wasn’t just coming.

It was already here.