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CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

“DAMN HER,” I snarled, pushing past Lucy into the clubhouse. I needed to get the hell out of there before I put my fist through a damn wall or someone.

I grabbed my keys and stalked toward the exit.

The moment I stepped outside, the humid night air did nothing to cool my temper. My bike sat where I left it, and I yanked my helmet on before throwing a leg over the seat. My hands gripped the bars, knuckles turning white as I took a slow breath, trying to rein in the fury clawing at my insides.

It didn’t work.

That photo album.

Those fucking pictures.

The realization that Ashlynn—Thea—had know exactly who I was the whole goddamn time.

She lied. She targeted me.

And my mother helped her.

Those two bitches were playing me.

My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached as I fired up the engine. I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Just gunned it straight to the one place I swore I’d never set foot in again.

Her apartment was in some cookie-cutter complex on the east side of town, the kind that looked nice enough on the outside but was rotting under the surface.

Just like her.

I killed the engine and stormed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. By the time I reached her door, my blood was a fucking storm. I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. Just pounded my fist against the wood so hard the hinges rattled.

A pause.

Then the click of a lock.

When the door cracked open, I shoved it the rest of the way and stepped inside, my mom barely scrambling back in time.

Her dark eyes met mine— just like mine —but there was no warmth there. Never had been. She only knew how to love herself.

“Well,” she sighed, smoothing a hand down her silk blouse. “To what do I owe this visit?”

I didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at her.

Because Ashlynn was sitting on the couch.

She curled up like she belonged there, a glass of wine in her hand.

But this time?

She wasn’t smirking.

She was afraid.

“Spinner...” she started, her voice small, her grip tightening on the wine glass. “I can explain—”

I slammed the door so hard the frame shook.

“You knew,” I said, my voice flat, even as rage pulsed through me.

Ashlynn set her glass down, slow and cautious. “Knew what?”

“Don’t fuckin’ play with me.” I took a step toward her. “You knew exactly who I was before you ever stepped foot in that clubhouse.”

She flinched. Her lips parted like she wanted to lie, but I saw the truth in her guilty-ass face.

“Guess that depends on your definition of knowin’ someone,” she murmured.

The cold, detached way she said it snapped something in me.

I turned to my mother. “Why?” My voice was a demand, cutting and ready to slice. “Why would you pull this shit?”

She sighed again, moving to the kitchen, like this was just another inconvenience.

“I was helping you,” she said, opening a cabinet. “Ashlynn would be good for you, help get you out of that biker gang and start a real family.”

Bullshit.

My pulse roared in my ears. She wouldn’t know a real family if it found its way up her ass.

“You don’t even know me,” I growled. “Ashlynn’s a club mattress. You know that, right?”

Ashlynn gasped, offended.

I didn’t give a shit.

“This wasn’t about me,” I snapped. “It was about you. About keepin’ your control.”

She poured herself a drink. Ignoring me.

Fucking typical.

I turned back to Ashlynn, who was watching me too closely. Too calmly. Like she thought she still had a shot.

That pissed me off more than anything.

“And you?” I snarled, closing the distance, words dripping with venom. “You’re out. Club’s done with you, show up again, and it won’t just be words you’ll answer to.”

She stood her ground, but I saw the panic flicker in her eyes.

Then her hands reached for me, desperate. Clawing for something that wasn’t there.

“I love you, Spinner. I always have. Don’t throw me away.” Her voice wavered, thick with desperation. “Remember? You chose me that night. That means somethin’.”

A harsh, bitter laugh ripped from my throat.

“You threw yourself away.” My voice was cold steel. “I can’t stand a liar, and I never chose you. I used you—to hurt Lucy. Because I love her .”

That got her.

Her eyes flickered with something—jealousy? Anger? Desperation? Didn’t fucking matter.

“I clawed my way into that damn club,” she rasped, her voice thick with emotion, barely holding together. Her breath hitched, shoulders trembling with the weight of her words. “Every choice I made... every damn move with those bikers... it was all for you. To be near you.” She swallowed hard, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “Yeah, I kept who I was to myself. Figured it didn’t matter. Figured it wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and cold. “The hell it didn’t,” I snarled, my chest tight with rage. “You think playin' me was just gonna slide? I don’t give a damn about your reasons. You lied. You used me.” I shook my head, disgust curling in my gut. “Whatever game you were playin’, bitch... you lost.”

Her whole body went taut, something dark flashing across her face. Then, like a switch flipping, she lunged forward, eyes wild.

“It didn’t ,” she hissed, stepping right up to me, her breath hot with fury.

I held my ground, towering over her, rage coiling tight in my chest.

She didn’t get it.

She never fucking would.

“Because you were never my brother,” she pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of her words. Desperation clawed at her as she stepped closer. “We weren’t raised together. We’re not blood.” Her breath hitched, panic flaring in her eyes. “We were meant to be—I knew it back when we were kids. But you vanished, so I found you.” Her voice dropped, trembling with urgency. “Dad... Dad would’ve wanted this. Wanted us. Just like your mom.”

I snapped.

One second I was standing still. The next, I stepped in, crowding her space, backing her against the wall. My shadow swallowed hers, heat rolling off me in waves. Nowhere to run. My gaze locked on hers, burning with a fire that dared her to move.

“Your dad was a piece of shit,” I snarled. “And my mother? Worse. But you—” I tightened my grip.

“You made up every fuckin’ thing you said to get close to me, didn’t you? My mother coached you on how to play me , didn’t she?”

Her face twisted, but I didn’t stop.

“Yeah... that plan of yours?” I scoffed. “Crashed and burned. I wasn’t interested then, sure as hell ain’t now.”

She laughed.

A cold, mocking sound that scraped down my spine.

“Oh, come on, Spinner. You’re actin’ all high and mighty like you’re so different from us. But you’re not, are you?” She smiled now, biting and cruel. “Look at what goes on in that clubhouse. What you men do. You’re no fuckin’ saint.”

I wanted to shake her. Wanted to scream that she didn’t know a goddamn thing about me, about the wreckage that bitch left in my childhood. Rage boiled just beneath my skin, every muscle coiled tight, ready to snap.

Then my mother’s voice sliced through the room like a goddamn lightning strike. “That’s enough, Hayden.”

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt. I moved back away from Ashlynn, chest heaving, blood pounding in my ears. Turning to my mother, I spat the words like venom. “ Tell me why. ”

She sipped her wine like she hadn’t just thrown a grenade into the room. Then she smiled, that smile. Cold. Hollow. The kind that twisted in my gut like a knife. “Because I know what’s best.”

I barked out a laugh, strong, bitter, tasting like blood and bile. “You’re full of shit, ” I snapped, taking a step toward her, fists clenched. “You couldn’t tell the truth if Jesus himself was standin’ in front of you.”

I turned, boots grinding against the floor as I stalked toward the door. I was done— so done.

But her voice came again, calm and poisonous.

“You’re going to regret walking away from me, Hayden. I know things. ”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned my head, locking onto her dead, soulless eyes.

“That ship sailed when I was fifteen, ” I growled, voice low and lethal. “My mom’s been dead to me ever since.”

And then I walked out.

Didn’t look back.

Wouldn’t.

Fuck her. Fuck all of it.