Page 10 of Reign (Kings of Chaos & Mayhem #8)

Ryder

Regrets & Parties

When I rode away from the house this morning with tears in my eyes, I already regretted saying those things to him, but I was mad.

So fucking mad and hurt that I needed him to feel what I was feeling.

I knew that saying we were done would do the job, but I regret it.

I wanted to turn back around and make him beg for forgiveness while on his knees, sucking my cock, making me cum down his throat, and letting me claim every inch of him.

The other part of me wanted to hurt him for lying, holding a gun to his head while he came weighed heavily on my mind.

Finding out Dario was alive this whole time and had taken on the identity of Zayn was equally as devastating as it was relieving. My sister mourned that man and went through the death of their child while he was God knows where, and they all lied.

Walking around the renovated clubhouse, I ignore Slash, like I've been doing for weeks. I’ve got nothing to say to him right now.

Finding out he’s my father and that I’m not a true Rivers kid was another gut punch.

All the lies and deceit around here has been too much as of late.

I can’t handle all this shit. I was never meant to hold the gavel.

That was all Ryker, but here we are—pretending I’m the president of the Devils Incarnate while we rebuild this place as a haven for trafficked kids since The Brotherhood was a sham.

That’s another thing we need to handle. That place needs to be shut down before someone else we love gets taken and sold.

How they hid it for so long is beyond me.

As much as I wish Jaxon never saw that place, I’m glad Jameson went there to get him and saw what was going on.

What I don’t understand is why give him to Jameson and then years later come for him?

What deal did Jameson make that we don’t know about?

“Talk to me, tell me what's going on in that head of yours,” Slash says, standing in my path with a bottle of Jack.

“Get out of my way, Slash, and leave me be,” I snarl, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a gulp.

“No, not until you talk. Put the bullshit aside for twenty minutes and just talk to me. Brother to brother,” he states, and I laugh.

“Brother to brother? Funny!” I snort, taking another gulp of the warm liquor.

“Fine, father to son,” he replies, and I laugh again.

“That’s even funnier,” I snide, and he sighs.

“I’m just trying to help, and you’re too thick in the head to just let me,” he snaps, and I take another gulp before finding the bar stool and parking my ass. He rounds the bar, placing two glasses in front of us and taking the bottle from my hands, pouring us a drink.

“Well, spill,” he tells me, and I take a deep breath.

“I don’t even know where to start. Dario is alive for one.

Spade lied to me the whole time about it.

The Brotherhood fled my sister's house, wanting Jaxon, and someone crashed into Spade’s car, taking us to be tortured.

That’s where I was for the last twenty-four hours.

We still don’t know exactly who was behind it.

We assume the Brotherhood, but I disagree.

I think there are so many people after us that half the time it's a ruse,” I fume, letting all the information out.

Picking up the glass and throwing back the shot, he nods and refills it.

“Why do you think Spade lied about Dario’s death?” he asks, and I shrug.

“Apparently, he couldn’t tell me. He did it to protect us, but from whom and what?” I say, and Slash smiles.

“Did you ask him?” he asks, raising a brow, but I shake my head.

“No, I just left and told him it was over,” I sigh, knocking back the next shot.

“Well, that was your first mistake. You are always running when things get tough. You’ve been doing it your whole life. Maybe it's time to stop running,” he suggests as he takes the wet rag, wiping down the bar top. I hate when he’s right.

“But he lied, Slash. He fucking lied. Why didn’t he just tell me? I would’ve kept his secret if I'd understood why,” I say, and he shakes his head.

“You know damn well in this life that there are things we don’t understand and things we do that go against everything we believe in.

You have to remember that. If Spade didn’t tell you to protect you and everyone else he loves, you have to respect that.

It’s not that he didn’t trust you. Stop taking the actions of others as a personal jab,” he tells me, and I nod. Once again, he’s right.

“Yes, I know. I just thought we were a team, ya know,” I say, taking the bottle, bringing to my lips, and taking a deep gulp.

“You are a team, and if the Cartel leader didn’t trust you, you wouldn't be in his life. You know that better than anyone else. We don’t just let people in.

We love hard, and we trust no one. But you and him together are something fierce and loyal.

Those things are scarce,” he assures me, and I nod.

He’s always the man of reason. I fucking hate it.

“So what do I do now? I told him I couldn't do this shit anymore,” I say, placing my head in my hands. I really screwed up this time.

“It’s not too late, Ryder. Call him and talk it out.

If you love each other the way you say you do, then everything will work itself out,” he says, and I nod again.

Reaching into my pocket, I sway as I take my phone out.

I see I have a text from Jameson, telling me to get my head out of my ass. I know, man, I know.

Scrolling down to Spade’s name, I hit the green button and bring the phone to my ear, listening to it ring to voicemail. Growling, I slam the phone down on the bar top.

“See, now he won’t pick up,” I spit, taking another drink from the bottle. My body feels light, and my vision blurs a bit. “Fuck it, let’s have a party,” I shout, and Slash shakes his head.

“I know I’m going to regret saying this, but the California chapter is due to arrive soon. The old ladies and Croweaters are in the kitchen getting food prepared. So you’re in luck tonight,” he says, and a smile spreads across my lips.

“There’s nothing like a club party. Since I’m single, I might find someone to sink my dick into. Maybe it’s for the best.” I laugh, and once again Slash shakes his head.

“I don’t recommend that, but you are a grown-ass man. You make your own decisions,” he tells me, and I laugh.

“Live a little, old man.”

What's the worst that could happen?