Page 91 of Hymns of the Broken

I stroke harder. Faster. Eyes locked on hersilhouette through the tinted window—barely visible. Just enough to feed the madness. My knuckles go white, palm slick, hips stuttering as I picture her mouth, the way she’d look with both of us.

God, she sounds wrecked.

He’s dragging those needy sounds out of her throat like music.

But part of me wants to ruin her even worse.

Wants to bust in there and make her look me in the eye while she chokes on me—

Let Jasper see what it means to share with her.

Let her feel what it means to be truly wanted by two men sick enough to fight over who gets to break her next.

And she’d love it.

I know she would.

Because no matter how good he is at bending her—

I’ll be the one who shatters her.

I finish with a low growl, biting down on my fist to keep from moaning her name like a lunatic in the dark. The tension in my body snaps, heat pulsing out of me as I shake, teeth gritted, staring at that last bit of sliver of her through the glass.

I stare at the window long after the lights go out.

Waiting.

Burning.

Because the next time she sees me, there’ll be no haunted house to blame. No dim light to hide behind. No Jasper to step in.

Just me.

And her.

And a reckoning.

Chapter 17

SAWYER

Sunlight spills in through the slats of the bus window, thin and pale, just enough to make my eyes squeeze shut before fluttering open again. The first thing I feel is Jasper’s arm slung heavy over my waist, his body warm against my back, his breath steady. Safe.

And yet, my mind is already spinning.

Jasper Reign wants me. Riot wants me.

Bothof them.

It doesn’t feel real.

I stare up at the ceiling of the bunk, trying not to let my thoughts spiral. Still, the quiet has a way of pulling out every insecurity, every question I try to ignore when lips are on my skin or when rough hands are pinning me down.

Why me?

I’m not special. I’m not the kind of girl rockstars lose their minds over. I’m too much and not enough at the same time. Too broken. Too anxious. Too full of history I don’t talk about. And I don’t believe in fairy tales. I never did.

I know what it feels like to be someone’s convenience.