Page 122 of Hymns of the Broken

I’m just done waiting around, acting like an afterthought in her orbit. Done pretending I’m not losing it every damn second she’s near me.

I stand, stretching out every coil of tension in my body, and tilt my head toward the garage. “Come on, Sin. Let me show you my bikes.”

Her eyes light up, curiosity flaring as she sits up straighter. “You have bikes?”

I smirk,letting the challenge show. “Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea.”

She tosses her towel aside and follows, her steps quick, unafraid.

We barely cross the gravel before footsteps echo behind us—loud, loose, familiar.

Of course. Riot.

“Yo,” he calls, all effortless swagger, like he’s just part of the scenery. “Mind if I take one out too?”

My jaw ticks, but I don’t stop moving.

He falls in next to her, flashing that lazy smile like he owns the place. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you have your time, Reign,” he says, flicking his chin at me, but his gaze goes right back to Sawyer—lingering on the curve of her hips in that suit. “But you know I’m not missing the chance to see you with a helmet on.”

She just laughs softly, rolling her eyes, but I notice a little pink rising in her cheeks.

I roll my own eyes and unlock the garage doors, shoving them open so hard they groan on their hinges. The smell of oil and rubber rolls out, grounding me. Inside, my matte black Ducati sits under the skylight, gleaming like a weapon asleep in the dark.

Her gasp is quiet but honest. “Whoa.”

“That one’s mine,” I say, brushing dust off the seat like I’m showing her a part of myself. “Street legal. Fast as hell. Smooth as sin.”

Riot whistles low, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Damn, Reign. Didn’t know you had taste.”

I shoot him a look, sharp and warning. “Are you riding or watching?”

He grins, all teeth. “Depends. You gonna letherwrap those pretty legs around me, too?”

Sawyer groans, rolling her eyes. She walks toward the bike, cutting the tension like she can’t stand it either.“Can I ride with you?” she asks, her voice small but sure. She looks up at me, blue eyes wide. “I’ve never been on one before.”

I nod once. “Helmet’s on the shelf. Along with some jeans and a tank top for you.”

I glanceback at Riot, giving him a look that says I dare you. “You can take the Yamaha. Just don’t wreck it.”

He gives me a two-fingered salute, grinning like the devil.“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sawyer climbs onto the back of my bike, her arms sliding around my waist, legs hugging my hips like she was always meant to be there. Riot’s here, sure. He’s watching, soaking it all in.

But right now?

She’s holding me.

And I’m about to make damn sure she feels it. Every. Single. Mile.

I rev the engine, feeling her grip tighten, and lean back just enough to murmur, “Hold on, Little Demon.”

Her breath shudders against my neck, and for one perfect second, nothing else matters—not Riot’s eyes, not the past, not even the burn of jealousy. Just the road, the rumble, and her wrapped around me.

Let him watch.

This moment? This one’s mine.

RIOT