Page 69 of Hymns of the Broken

He’s still flexing his hand, a little swagger in every movement. The adrenaline’s fading, but something else lingers—hotter, heavier. He glances down at me, lip tugged up at the corner. “Didn’t know that was your type, Hellcat. Didn’t peg you for the ‘watch a guy get violent’ type.”

I try for unimpressed while my pulse blares in my ears. “Don’t get cocky. One punch doesn’t make you impressive.”

He stepscloser, breath brushing my ear. “You sure about that? ’Cause you were looking at me like you wanted to climb me right there. Can’t say I blame you, Angel. I’ve seen the way you get when a man makes a scene over you.”

I stop walking, eyes wide. The memory of Jasper’s hands caging me against the bus slams into me so hard my knees feel untrustworthy. I never wanted scenes. I never wanted to be wanted out loud. But here I am, splintering over the way they both do it without shame.

Riot lets it hang, eyes burning into mine. “Saw what happened with Reign at the bus. Everybody did. Hell, I nearly applauded when he put you up against the side like that. You ever gonna let someone do that to you in private, or do you only like it when you’re the main event?”

Heat floods my skin. Riot’s grin stays playful, but there’s a dare under it. Jasper’s dare lives in the promise that I’m already his. Riot’s lives in the promise he’ll earn it. I don’t know which one scares me more.

I toss my hair, aiming for lethal and landing somewhere near breathless. “Keep talking like that and you’ll find out just how much trouble I can be.”

He leans in, mouth near my ear. “That’s the plan, Hellcat. Say the word and I’ll give you a show no one else gets to see.”

He pulls back, gaze trailing over me like he’s memorizing the look on my face. “Guess you’re not the only one who likes to make people stare.”

I keep moving so he doesn’t see how my resolve shakes. The truth hammers anyway: what I feel for Jasper is the kind of strong that rewires bone; what I feel for Riot is the kind of strong that makes blood sing. Either could ruin me. Both already are.

JASPER

I see her the second I step out of the loading bay—Sawyer, weaving through the crowd, camera at her hip, hair shining blue and green under the sun. Too far away.

Then I spot them. Three assholes—beers in hand, red faces, looking at her like she’s a prize and not a fucking person. My vision goes hot. I’m already moving, shouldering through the crowd, ready to break bones, leave teeth on the pavement if I have to.

But someone gets there first. Riot. Always with the reckless, shit-eating grin, sliding between Sawyer and danger like he was made for it. He mouths off—cocky, wild, unafraid. The guys shrink back, start running their mouths, but Riot’s got that look in his eyes. The one that promises pain.

One guy touches Sawyer, and then Riot throws a punch. Fucking lands it, too—blood sprays, beer hits the ground, and Sawyer stands there, unfazed, watching like she’s seen a thousand bar fights and could start one herself. For a second, I want to be pissed. At Riot, at her, at myself for not getting there first.

But I can’t look away.

She’s wildfire wrapped in velvet, and it guts me to see someone else shield her from the burn—even for a second. It should’ve been me. No one else gets to protect her, make her laugh, pull her close. Not Riot, not anyone. She’s mine, and every second she’s out of my reach feels like losing a piece of myself I’ll never get back.

Riot says something to her—soft, close, too close. She laughs, shoves him, and for a heartbeat, I almost lose it. Jealousy tastes like blood.

Then, out of nowhere, I see Blake pushing through the crowd—eyes wild, jaw clenched, his whole body radiating ill intent.

I take off running, murder in my veins.

SAWYER

Riot keeps me close, a lazy arm slung around my shoulder as we cut through the crowd. I’m still buzzing from what just happened—his punch, his grin, the heat in his eyes. I should be steady, but then I see him.

Blake.

He moves toward us fast, cutting through bodies, eyes locked on mine. His smile is all wrong—teeth too tight, eyes too wild.

My stomach drops. I haven’t texted him back. Haven’t called. Haven’t ended things. Just…avoided. Buried myself in noise and unfamiliar faces, hoping the old ones would fade.

He reaches me first, crowding into my space. Riot tenses, hand on my hip now, a silent warning.

“Hey, babe.” Blake’s voice is all sticky sweetness, the anger just under the surface. “You’ve been ignoring me? I missed you.”

He leans in, brushing a kiss against my cheek like it’s normal, like we aren’t already coming apart at the seams.

I step back. “Sorry, I’ve been…busy. It’s chaos out here.” My voice is thin, even to my own ears.

Blake’s eyes go sharp as he grabs my arm. “Busy, huh? Funny, that’s not what it sounded like last night.” His gaze flicks to Riot, mouth curling. “Who’s this—your new little friend?”