Page 24 of Hellbent (Snakes & Daggers #1)

I quickly avert my eyes, my heart hammering.

It’s just two guys on bikes. There are plenty of motorcycles out there. I’m overreacting.

Still, my fingers curl into fists in my pockets, the muscles in my shoulders locking tight as the motorcycles pull up beside me on the highway…

And don’t pass.

They slow, engines revving down, and a chill rolls through me. I turn my head slightly, keeping my face angled away. Not enough to look suspicious. Just enough to keep them from getting a good look at me.

Time suspends. I forget to breathe. And then—a car approaches behind them.

A sharp honk and the motorcycles pick up speed and pass. Within seconds, they’re gone. Just a blur of metal and exhaust, disappearing down the road.

It’s nothing.

Just some guys. Probably just checking out a girl walking alone.

No reason to panic.

By the time Ryder’s house comes into view, my feet ache, my patience is shot, and I’m past caring. I’ve already made peace with it. Talked myself in circles until there’s nothing left to feel.

Whatever lecture he and Wyatt have cooked up, I just want to get it over with.

My shoes hit the porch harder than necessary. I don’t knock. Just push the door open and step inside.

The house is cool and dim when I step inside, my legs aching from the long walk.

I walk through the foyer into the living room, where Ryder is sitting on the couch, tattooed forearms braced on his thick thighs.

His hair is loose, framing the sharp lines of his face.

He lifts his head and stares at me levelly, with that dark, unreadable stare that makes my stomach tighten.

Wyatt sits beside him, arms crossed over his chest, his jaw no longer locked with anger, but his blue eyes pin me in place, sharp and assessing.

They don’t tell me to sit, so I stay standing, heart pounding, my mind carefully going blank just the way it has all those other times. We just don’t think this is the right placement for you. We just don’t think it’s a fit.

It’s easier to look at Wyatt, despite his anger this morning. “I know I fucked up.” I say steadily. “I’m sorry.”

Neutral expression. Dry eyes.

I brace for the next part, the part where they spell it out. Tell me I can’t stay. That this was never meant to last.

Instead, Ryder speaks. “You know, nobody here owes you shit, Maxwell.”

The words hit like a slap, threatening to shake my resolve. I blink, square my shoulders.

“Wyatt gave you a place to stay and a job. We made space for you. Let you in. And that comes with certain expectations for how you behave in this group.”

Perfect. A lecture.

“We shouldn’t have done it,” I say, making sure to include Damian in that we , since his absence is so conspicuous. I’m guessing he didn’t get this lecture. “I will always be grateful for everything you all did for me. Thank you.”

Wyatt blinks, like something I said surprised him. Ryder narrows his eyes, studying me.

“Jake, Damian, me, Wyatt—” He nods toward Wyatt.

“We’re closer than brothers. We’ve been through hell together.

We didn’t just serve together. We survived together.

We lost people together. And after everything, we came here, and we made something solid.

Something that works. Introducing someone new…

that’s always going to change the dynamic, but you needed us, and we were there for you. ”

I suck in a breath, feeling my patience thin. Two months of hospitality I never felt I deserved, and now he wants to make sure I know I never deserved it.

“I said I’m sorry. Did Damian have to say he was sorry too?”

Ryder’s eyes flare. “This is about respect, Maxwell.”

I wet my lips, trying to hold my ground. “I said I was sorry,” I try again, keeping my voice even. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

I glance at Wyatt again, but his expression is inscrutable now. More restrained. He’s letting Ryder take the lead.

Ryder leans forward. “You have a job at the garage, but it isn’t a free ride.”

I bristle. “I work my ass off in the garage!”

He arches an eyebrow, slow and cold. “Yeah. So I heard.”

My eyes go wide before I can school my face.

It’s the way he said it. So Wyatt told him. Everything.

Shame floods through me, burning under my skin. I can picture it, the conversation they must have had. What Wyatt saw. What he said. What they both think of me now.

I can’t stop the heat creeping up my spine, a mix of anger and humiliation.

“I’ll leave, okay?” The words burst out of me, fast and defensive. No emotion, I remind myself. Neutral expression. Dry eyes. But it’s hard to fight the grief breaking loose inside me.

Jake, Damian, Wyatt. My job at the garage. My little backroom bedroom that was all my own.

What a humiliating way to lose it all. Because of a sex act. An indecency.

I force my voice steady. “I’ll go back to the garage, get my stuff, and leave tonight.”

Wyatt shifts, his expression cracking into something softer. “Max—”

But Ryder cuts him off.

“We’re not asking you to leave, Maxwell. We’re asking you to be a thoughtful member of this community.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Which amounts to the same thing. An excuse wrapped up in a justification. And I’m to blame for my actions, while Damian isn’t to blame for his.

” I shake my head. “No, I get it. I’ve seen it a thousand times before.

I’ll just leave this time, so I don’t have to go through another lecture next time you find yourself getting very interested in what I do with my body. ”

The silence is brittle.

“Max—” Wyatt starts.

But I spin on my heels to leave.

A creak of the couch. The sound of boots on hardwood. And then—

Ryder’s hand closes over my arm, yanking me back around. He towers over me, shoulders blocking out the room behind him.

Something flashes in his dark eyes, but it’s something softer than I’ve seen before.

“Will you just sit down, please?” He gestures to the living room, waiting for me to follow.

I try to yank my arm free, but his grip tightens.

“Let me go!” I snap, my voice high and sharp.

“Stop acting like a child,” he hisses.

Oh, a child , is it?

That’s exactly what they want me to feel like. Small and ashamed.

I hold Ryder’s gaze, pulse hammering, as spite coils in my stomach.

I tilt my head, my lips curling into something almost sweet. “Why don’t you just spank me and get it over with already?”

The shift in the air is instant.

Ryder’s expression goes ice cold.

“Say that again,” he says, low and lethal.

My breath locks up. The fight in me evaporates in an instant.

Angry Ryder is terrifying.

He takes a slow step closer. “You think this is a fucking joke?”

His voice is smooth. Controlled. Deceptively calm. And still terrifying.

I keep my chin high, but my legs feel unsteady.

We stare at each other, the weight between us thick and suffocating, but it’s Ryder who breaks the moment, letting go of my arm and turning away.

“Get her out of here,” he says to Wyatt.

Wyatt stands, walking toward me, giving Ryder a brief clap on the shoulder before tilting his head toward the door. “C’mon, you hellcat. Get in the truck.”

For the first time all day, there’s the tiniest trace of warmth in his voice.

I let out a sharp breath. “Oh, I don’t have to walk?” I bite out.

Wyatt doesn’t respond. He walks outside and unlocks the truck without a word.

I follow him and get in.

We drive back to the garage in silence while I stare out the window, my pulse still hammering, my skin still hot from the fight. My thoughts should be racing, but they aren’t.

They settle on one thing.

I can stay?