Page 13

NATALIA

T he door clicked shut behind Aiyana and I was left alone in Tick Tock’s room. It was dark and silent, a little too cold for my liking.

I began to pace across the small room like some kind of trapped animal, arms wrapped around my middle, trying to keep my thoughts from spiraling completely out of control. The walls were bare, there were no photos, no warmth, no sign of a man who really lived here. Just black sheets, black curtains, and the low hum of the fan stirring the thick tension in the air.

I reached for a pillow sliding it over my face and breathed in. The scent of his cologne overwhelmed me, and that heat spread down my thighs and across my core. I swung the pillow back onto the bed, turning and pacing once more.

God, what was I doing? My stomach twisted.

Tick Tock had disappeared after a few hours. I could feel his heated gaze on me nearly the entire evening and then he was gone. Didn’t even say a word to me, why would he?

Now I was stuck here, in this damn clubhouse, shoved into a corner of his world. A world I wasn’t sure I had the right to be in. I had no allies, no soft place to land, and all I could breathe in was the quiet, simmering rage he’d left behind. He'd looked so damn angry, so betrayed. Like I’d reached inside and carved out his heart, one he hadn’t wanted anyone to see.

And God help me… but he'd looked so damn good standing there in shock. The kind of good that sets your blood boiling and your thighs aching. Like violence in a cut of leather, like punishment wrapped in sex. He wore fury the way some men wore suits, perfectly tailored, unforgiving, and deadly.

The cut. The jaw. The quiet violence simmering beneath his skin. I knew he was ready to snap and burn the whole world down. His fury wasn’t loud. It was contained. Controlled.

Deadly.

He was going to kill me.

He hadn’t even touched me, and I could already feel it, the heat, the judgment, the betrayal in his eyes when he looked at me. I betrayed his trust. I’d let him touch me, take me, devour me like I belonged to him. And all the while, I hadn’t told him the truth.

He must be hating me.

My bare feet slid across the wood floors. Back and forth. Over and over. My nerves were on edge and there was no way I was going to be able to sleep with this anxiety.

Why did he have to look at me like that? Why did it still make my knees weak?

The room was so empty, like he’d never let anyone inside it. It was simply shadows and dust and the faint, lingering scent of leather and smoke. I didn’t belong here. Not in this life. Not in his.

But I wanted to.

My thoughts were still in a frenzy when the knock came at the door.

I froze in place, heart catching in my throat, every hair on my body standing on edge. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. My eyes locked on the dark wood like it might split in two. I didn’t know who. or what, was on the other side.

The silence dragged, thick and suffocating. My pulse thudded in my ears as my bare feet crept backward on instinct. My hand hovered near the dresser, like I might need to throw it between me and whatever came through that door.

Then his voice came through. Low and rough. Laced with the kind of anger that settled deep in your bones.

“Open the door, kitten… or I’ll tear it the fuck down.”

I nearly ran to the door, scrambling for the handle, heart racing, pulse hammering against my ribs before I swung the door open.

He was standing there, broad shoulders shadowing the hallway light. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes dark as if a storm were brewing in them. One hand pressed to the doorframe as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded. And God how he leaned . His presence filled the space like fire, heavy and consuming, and I couldn’t move.

He looked like sin in a cut, and in that moment, I understood why they called him Tick Tock. Because wherever he went, that electric tension clung to him, coiled tight and dangerous, like a bomb just waiting to go off. Every step he took, every breath he drew, ticked down to detonation. He didn’t just carry danger. He was danger, and no one knew when he’d explode and take everything down with him.

Tick Tock.

I whispered his name, so softly. “Jose…”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stormed past me, eyes hard, jaw tight. A storm of fury wrapped in leather and silence.

“How the hell did you find out my name?”

“Aiyana,” I whispered. “She told me earlier. I knew you were important. I didn’t know you were so high up on the ranking. A founding member, she said.”

His head snapped towards me. “All she knows is my name.”

He started pacing, hands fisting at his sides, every muscle tight. He looked like a caged lion waiting for his chance to pounce. I watched him carefully, lips parting, unsure if I should speak. But the words came anyway.

“I didn’t mean to not tell you.”

“Didn’t mean to?” he snapped. “You knew who I was. You had to have known.”

“I did,” I admitted. “But I didn’t want to tell you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because I was afraid you’d leave again.”

He stopped. Stamding so very still as if I'd just landed a hard blow. “I should have left.”

My chest ached. “But you didn’t.”

He looked at me then. Like really looked at me. “You’re Barrel’s daughter. My best fucking friend’s kid. Nineteen years old. Do you have any idea what kind of hell I’d bring down if I touched you again?”

“I don’t care.”

“You should care,” he growled, voice low, dangerous. “You don’t belong in this life.”

“I’ve lived it,” I said. “I grew up in this world.”

“Not this part of it,” he barked. “Not the part that breaks you open and leaves you begging for mercy. Not the part where men like me forget their fucking souls and wreck anything soft enough to love.”

“I’m not soft.”

He took a step closer. “You’re fucking innocent, Natalia. Barely used.”

“I’m still a woman.”

He shook his head, dragging his hand over my cheek. “Too fucking young for someone like me. Fuck, I could be your father.”

I slid my cheek into the palm of his hand, his thumb catching my bottom lip. "Isn't that what you asked me to call you the other night. Daddy ?"

"Fuck," he muttered, pulling away and turning his back on me. "That was before I knew you were my best friend's kid."

“I’m not a kid! And I’m done living by his rules. I’ve always lived by them, his world, his choices. I took care of him, Jose. When he was too drunk to remember my birthday. When he brought home women who barely remembered my name. I stayed quiet. I cleaned up the pieces. But I’m done being quiet. I want to be free.”

He spun back around, eyes narrowing. "So this is what that is? You being rebellious? You using me to get back at your old man?"

“No!” I cried out, the word sharp and raw in the air. “It’s not like that.”

“You sure?” he snapped, stepping toward me, his voice rising. “Because it sure as hell feels like it. Like I’m the big ‘fuck you’ to your father. You think I’m gonna be part of that little game?”

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I held them back. "I’m not playing games. I want you. I wanted you the moment you touched me. Even before I knew who you were. And I didn’t stop wanting you, even after I found out."

He looked at me like he didn’t know whether to grab me or run.

“I don’t do this,” he muttered. “I don’t fall into traps. And you? You’re a fucking landmine, sweetheart. One step closer and I’ll lose everything.”

“I’m already yours,” I whispered. “You just haven’t claimed me yet.”

The silence that followed was thick and I could feel the heat pouring off him. He was still breathing hard when I crossed the space between us.

My mouth crashed onto his, desperate, aching, breathless and unexperienced. He didn’t kiss me back at first, not for a second. Then suddenly his hands wrapped around me, lifting me up against him as his kiss became fierce. Hungry . Like he’d been dying for this.

He wrapped his hand in my hair, fisted it tight, and yanked my head back, baring my throat.

“I’m going to get killed for touching you.”

I whimpered softly as his mouth trailed down, tongue dragging hot and slow across the side of my neck. My skin shivered under the wet stroke, my breath catching just before his teeth sank into my shoulder.

It was a bite meant for me to feel the next day.

“Please,” I begged. “Don't stop, Jose.” He groaned as I mentioned his name.

"You're a fucking tease," and then his mouth was on mine again. Hard and claiming.

His tongue slid over mine, the kiss deep and demanding, tasting me like he was trying to erase every other man who might have dared to kiss me before. His hands gripped my hips, squeezing hard, dragging me flush against him until I could feel the thick, growing length of his cock pressing into my stomach. My breath caught, he was already so hard for me.

I gasped into his mouth and wrapped myself around him, my thighs tightening at his sides as he held me up like I weighed nothing. My breasts ached, nipples brushing against the thin cotton of my tank top, so sensitive they pulsed with need. He groaned into the kiss, like he shared every shiver that rolled down my spine.

He kissed me like he was starving. Like I was the only thing keeping him alive.

And in that kiss, I knew he wasn’t leaving tonight. Not without tasting what he’d already started to own.

Not without me .