Page 16 of Hot as Hell (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #2)

Chapter Fourteen

Hemlock’s hands gripped the handlebars with a white-knuckled intensity. All he could think about was her —Charlie—and the betrayal that sliced through him like a blade.

And then Truck. The one person he believed he could count on.

It was supposed to be a joke. A stupid razzing.

He’d been annoyed at Razor’s teasing, irritated at how everyone saw him as the guy who couldn’t close the deal with a decent girl.

But he never, never thought Truck would cross that line.

Not after everything. Not after all the times they’d talked about her.

Not after he had told Truck how much he cared about her. How much she meant to him.

And yet, there they were. Charlie, with that smile he thought was just for him, leaning on the counter like she belonged to someone else.

Truck, his brother, standing beside her in a way that made Hemlock’s stomach churn.

Truck knew. He knew how Hemlock felt about Charlie and still went ahead and took what he wanted without even a second thought.

The engine roared beneath him, but it did nothing to drown out the chaos in his head. He didn’t care about the rules anymore, didn’t care about anything except the roar of the bike and the wind tearing at his face.

He felt like he was on fire, and not the good kind. His heart, his chest, his whole body hurt with a rage so raw and primal it burned him from the inside out. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. How could they?

The image of Charlie, smiling at him with that innocent look on her face…

He could see it clearly now. He could see her leaning into Truck, her hand resting so comfortably on his arm.

She didn’t even blink when he came through the door.

She didn’t even try to pretend it wasn’t happening.

It was like she had no problem with it. And Truck?

The bastard was just as calm as if nothing had changed.

He’d known all along, and he hadn’t given a damn about how it would break Hemlock.

They were probably laughing at me, he thought bitterly. Probably thought it was hilarious, how he’d been mooning over her while they were already... His throat tightened, and for a split second, he almost lost control of the bike.

The road blurred past him, the houses, the trees, the streetlights—all just flashes of color in his peripheral vision.

But none of it mattered. His mind kept flashing back to the scene in the kitchen.

To Charlie’s smile. To Truck’s ease, the way he’d leaned against the counter like they were the perfect damn pair.

Hemlock gritted his teeth and shoved the throttle forward again, pushing the bike faster. The rush of speed did nothing to quench the fire inside him. If anything, it made the anger burn harder, deeper.

He could feel the weight of the betrayal pressing on his chest, suffocating him. The one person he’d always trusted to have his back. It was the cruelest thing. Not just the betrayal, but the fact that it was so casual. Like it didn’t even matter to them.

The images played over and over in his mind. The way Charlie had been standing there, so damn comfortable. And Truck? Leaning in like it was nothing. Like the years of friendship and family had meant nothing at all. Like he was just some dumb kid who didn’t know what he walked in on.

Hemlock swerved the bike to the side of the road, his tires skimming the gravel as he slowed to a stop.

He threw the kickstand down with a sharp motion and dismounted, his hands shaking as he tugged off his helmet.

The world around him seemed too quiet, too still, after everything that had just happened.

Pacing the side of the road, he tried to calm himself down, his free hand clenched into a tight fist as he grappled with his emotions.

Every step was an attempt to ground himself, but the anger, frustration, and confusion still swirled within him like a storm he couldn’t outrun.

His breath came in sharp bursts, the cool night air doing little to ease the fire burning in his chest. He could feel the weight of the decisions he had made pressing on him, suffocating him.

He stopped mid-step, his eyes drifting to the horizon where the faint glow of distant city lights blurred into the night sky. His mind raced, each thought more tangled than the last, the emotions more volatile.

He had always prided himself on control.

On keeping his composure, on thinking things through before acting.

But now, standing there, it all felt like a distant memory, slipping through his fingers as quickly as he could tried to grasp it.

His grip on his fist tightened even further, nails digging into the palm of his hand as if the physical pain could somehow quell the turmoil inside.

Clenching his jaw, he forced the tight fist open and then he tugged his helmet back on.

He mounted the bike, shifted into gear and pulled back onto the road and shot the bike into a turn, sending the engine howling through the trees.

The wind lashed at his face, his hair flying wildly, but the rage wouldn’t subside.

The deep, gnawing feeling was eating him alive from the inside out.

He was just... done. Done with Charlie. Done with Truck. Done with the bullshit. He couldn’t even look at them the same anymore. He didn’t care how they explained it. The truth was, no explanation could or would fix this.

Hemlock turned off the main road, his eyes scanning the streets, searching for something to numb the pain, anything.

His thoughts were too loud, too damn overwhelming.

He needed to get away. Away from the house, away from them, away from the ache in his chest that felt like it was tearing him apart. Away from everyone and everything.

As the bike revved beneath him, he didn’t know where he was headed. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to leave everything behind… the betrayal, the pain, the goddamn memories of Charlie’s smile and the way she’d looked at him like she cared.

The road stretched out in front of him, but Hemlock no longer saw it.

All he saw was the image of Charlie smiling at him with a look that now felt like a lie.

She was good, he’d give her that. She had him believing that not only had she cared, but that she was different from the other women he’d dealt with.

Instead all he felt was the overwhelming need to drive until the pain was gone. Until everything that had been was lost to the wind.