Page 73 of Thunder's Reckoning

Behind us, laughter burst from inside the clubhouse, rowdy and raw, splitting the quiet moment we’d carved out.

“I better check on the children,” I said softly, knowing sometimes you needed to be left with your pain to sort through it.

Amy just hugged herself tighter. “Thanks for checking on me, Sable.”

I stood, turning toward the side of the house, unwilling to push back through the party. The thought of walking into that crush of bodies made my stomach twist. The kitchen door was easier, quieter.

But as I rounded the corner, I froze.

Rune was there.

Alone.

His head was bowed, jaw tight, steps slow. And his face—troubled. Thoughtful. Not the smirk, not the cocky tilt. Something else entirely.

Things were not what they seemed.

I sighed and turned away, slipping through the back door. Zeke was working, and I might as well go to bed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

THE LIGHTS INthe backroom were hazy, bydesign not neglect. Smoke clung to the ceiling, thick as ghosts, and the scent of whiskey and money hung in the air like perfume. Cards slapped against felt, dice clattered sharp against wood, voices rose and fell with every win and loss.

I didn’t see any of it, my head just wasn’t here.

“Your face looks like it lost a huge bet,” Mystic said, elbowin’ me as he passed, arms full of chips he was haulin’ to the back table.

I grunted. “That’s just my face.”

Horse snorted from across the room, leanin’ against the bar like he’d been poured there, whiskey glass in his hand like hewas born with it. “Nah, that ain’t it. You got that captured man look. Like some woman done locked you down and threw away the key.”

Mystic dropped the chips, turned with a grin sharp enough to cut. “Thunder’s found love. Where you been, Horse?”

I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, scowlin’. “Maybe I’m just fuckin’ tired.”

“Tired of not gettin’ laid,” Horse muttered. “You’ve been a damn neutered dog lately. Weird as shit.”

Mystic nodded like it was gospel just to stir up shit, he knew damn well I was hooked on Sable. “Leena’s been tryin’ all damn night to fix that for you.”

I didn’t have to look. I could feel her across the room. Leena always made her presence known, bright laugh too loud, dress cut too low, hands lingerin’ too long when she slid chips across a table. She was workin’ one of the high rollers, but her eyes strayed my way like clockwork.

I didn’t bite.

“She ain’t my type,” I said flat.

Horse raised a brow, grinnin’. “Since when?”

I shrugged slow. “Since I gained some fuckin’ sense.”

Horse whistled low. “Damn. Cold as ice.”

“She’s not Sable,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

That shut ‘em up. Mystic tilted his head, a chip flipping lazy between his fingers before he caught it. His grin spread slow getting the reaction he’d hoped.

“Ohhh,” Horse chuckled. “So it is like that.”

“Why you assholes so fuckin’ nosey tonight?” I growled, but they were already laughin’.