Page 14 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

Luc

Alaina cried herself to sleep in my arms.

Her good hand was fisted tight in the fabric of my hoodie, like she was holding onto something that wouldn’t break apart on her, unlike everything else today.

And merde , did she cry. Not the soft, silent kind from last time I held her.

This was shaking, breathless, throat-wrecking sobs.

The kind that punches holes in your chest just from hearing it.

And all for that asshole.

Now I’m sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on my knees, just watching her breathe. She’s finally still, cheeks blotchy, lashes wet, and I hate the way she curls in on herself like she’s bracing for another blow, even in sleep.

Fucking Greer.

He said he took her virginity in the gondola, like that was a completely normal, totally chill sentence to drop in front of a goddamn audience. Like we were all just going to nod and clap and go “Ooh, romantic.”

And yeah, part of me wanted to deck him myself.

It wasn’t the sex part triggering me, although fuck him, but the stupidity.

The fact that he was throwing her pain out like confetti, and the way she crumbled like her whole spine gave out the second those words hit the air.

She didn’t even make a sound. Just collapsed inward.

And he didn’t even get through all of it before Dane’s fist met his face.

But he showed up. He stood there, eyes locked on Dane, knowing full well what was about to happen and said it anyway—no soft version or sugarcoating.

No bullshit.

He could’ve lied, dodged, or stayed away and saved his nose, but he didn’t.

That took balls, and merde , I hate that it counts for something, but it does.

I don’t know what the hell it says about him, and I sure as shit don’t know what it says about me —the fact that I can sit here and give him credit in my head, while still fantasizing about knocking his perfect white teeth into the next arrondissement .

I glance at Alaina again, still curled up, and she looks so small.

So fucking petite .

“You deserve better than him,” I whisper.

She deserves the fucking moon, but maybe that idiot finally knows it too.

I’ll never be the one who makes her cry like this. Jamais. I’d rather rip my own heart out than be the reason hers shatters. I’ll be the one who lets her fall apart without needing to pick up the pieces. The one who stays quiet when the sobs come hard.

And that starts here with acknowledging the mess and accepting that there’s a part of her heart that still beats for Greer and maybe always will. I’m still going to be here, standing right beside the pieces, not asking her to choose, just asking to be close enough to matter.

She said she was stupid for him but stupid for me too.

I am so fucking stupid for her .

The kind of stupid that stays up all night just to watch her sleep more easily. That would carry every ounce of her pain if it meant she could breathe free for one goddamn minute.

So yeah, I’ll be here.

Even if someone else is too.

I reach out, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead, when the flash of pink from my hoodie sleeve catches my eye, and just like that, I’m back outside the hospital with Mason, standing there in the cold, my hoodie drowning him.

That look in his eyes still haunts me as well as the texts we sent. The ones I didn’t overthink, even when I should have, because the flirting came as easily as the insults once did, like we were born speaking the same stupid, stubborn language.

It’s always been that way with him.

Gravity and fire.

And putain , if that doesn’t make something click.

Wanting her so much it fucking aches doesn’t erase those complicated feelings for Mason, no matter how much I might wish it would. In the same way that wanting Greer might not mean she doesn’t want me just as much.

It’s messy, but it’s not wrong. Not if it’s honest.

Toulouse stirs, snuffling as he stretches, one paw catching the edge of my ear.

He’s been out cold for hours, curled inside my hood like a pocket-size heater.

I lift him gently and set him on the bed, thinking he might curl up in the blanket or nosedive into the pillows.

But no. He pads straight up to Alaina, headbutts her cheek once, and settles in by her face as close as he can get.

I let out a quiet huff of a laugh because, of course, he does.

My stomach growls loudly, and I wince at the sound. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and my body is starting to revolt. Easing carefully up from the mattress, not wanting to wake them, I move fast, but she doesn’t stir, neither of them do, not even when I make it to the door and glance back.

Toulouse is still tucked in like a little sentinel beside her, and Alaina’s brow is smooth now, like she finally found some sense of peace. Her lips are parted, and my chest aches just looking at her beautiful face.

Fuck, I want her.

And more than that, I want her to be okay.

I slip out the door and pull it softly shut behind me, before heading toward the kitchen, but when I’m farther down the hallway, I hear raised voices.

“Dane, please,” my maman pleads.

What the fuck? Is Greer back?

“No! I won’t let this happen,” Dane snaps.

I quicken my pace, entering the kitchen to find Dane, Piper, Otis, and my mother all standing in a tense standoff with Alaina’s father.

Perfect.

As if this day wasn’t already bad enough.

Piper is holding onto Dane’s arm again, trying to calm him, but he looks even worse than earlier today with Finn. Maman is standing between Dane and his father, her hands raised in a soothing gesture.

“What the hell is going on?” I snap, stepping fully into the room. I hate the way my mother is planted between them, playing shield while their eyes throw fire at each other.

Dane turns to me. “Our dad thinks he can just barge in here and take Alaina with him.”

I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at Ambrose. “Essaie, vieux con.”

Try it, old man .

His eyes narrow. Maybe he understood me.

Good.

Ambrose straightens his spine and squares his shoulders. “She’s my daughter.”

“That does not make her yours to control,” I snap back.

Dane steps forward, but Piper tightens her grip on his arm. “Don’t, you’ll make it worse.”

“Let’s all take a breath.” My mother places a hand on Dane’s shoulder, but I’m done breathing, and I’m so done standing by while everyone puts more shit on my girl, so I step up next to Dane, siding with him.

I’m done letting people hurt her.

Dane’s dad scoffs when he sees us forming a line of defense.

“You’re all being unreasonable. She has broken fingers!

She needs to be seen in a proper hospital, not kept in some backwoods cabin with a bunch of overgrown children playing bodyguards.

And after that, she needs recovery and physio, not more races and this nonsense.

This farce needs to stop before it all explodes in her face. ”

So, Dane told him why she’s doing this.

Somehow, it bugs me that he knows before I do, but at the same time, it wasn’t Alaina telling him, which helps. I want to hear it from her.

“Now is the time to pull out,” Ambrose adds. “Before there are any real repercussions.”

“Oh, and her dying isn’t a repercussion?” Dane snaps back , and my head whips toward him.

What?

His dad echoes my thoughts. “What did you just say?”

Dane is shaking now, but this time it’s not with rage, and when I look more closely, I see that it’s with something worse.

Fear.

Piper seems to notice it, too, and tightens her grip on his arm, holding him close while asking him the same question, although much gentler. “What are you saying, Dane?”

“I can’t,” he breathes, voice cracking, and shoulders trembling. “I fucking can’t.”

Something inside me drops. I’ve only known Dane for a few weeks, but he’s always seemed solid as granite, almost unbothered. The calm in the chaos, but right now, he’s unraveling, and everything he’s been holding together is splitting at the seams. I don’t think he knows how to stop it.

Greer showing up and spilling everything didn’t just rip the scab off Alaina, apparently, it cracked something in Dane too.

Ambrose shifts, scoffing like this is all some overreaction. “What the hell are you talking about? It’s a hospital. She’s not going to die just because I want a second opinion on her fing?—”

“She will !” Dane cuts in, and his eyes are wide and wet. “She’ll take her own life if you take her with you.”

The words land, and the room just stops. Like all the air got sucked out, and I swear the only thing I can hear is my heartbeat.

And suddenly, I’m not standing in this room anymore. I’m thirteen, and the phone is ringing. Then my mother is sobbing, and I’m staring at the door he walked out of two hours earlier, wondering how the hell we didn’t see it coming.

I dig my nails into my palms, trying to stay here. Now. Not then.

But it’s hard— putain , it’s hard—not to fall into that old, cold space in my chest. The one I’ve spent years pretending isn’t there anymore.

Ambrose’s voice is a whisper now, but it’s enough to pull me back. “Why would she do that? ”

Dane turns slowly, looking at all of us. His mouth opens, but the words don’t come.

Maman wraps her arms around Dane like she’s done it a thousand times, then strokes his hair and whispers softly, “Tell us, cherié. It’s okay. Tell us.”

“Alaina doesn’t want to live after this. She’s been holding on by a thread. If you take her now, if you rip this away from her before she’s done, it’ll snap, and I’ll lose her.”

Dane breaks then. Full-on sobs, body curling in on itself, and I help Maman ease him into the living room and onto the couch on autopilot because I’m still processing what he just said.

Piper sits beside him, pulls him in, and cradles him to her, letting him cry. I stand there and look toward the hallway where ma Petite sleeps, not knowing that everything out here is shifting around her.