Page 9 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

CHAPTER FIVE

Alaina

After quickly dressing in sweats and a T-shirt, I yank the door open with my casted hand. Dane’s face greets me, grumpy as ever, with his arms crossed.

“What did you just say?” I ask, heart still thumping hard from everything.

“Dad is here,” Dane repeats, arching a brow at me.

“How in the world?—”

“He called me from the hospital,” he cuts in. “I had to tell him where we went.”

“What? The hospital I was in yesterday? Here? In France?”

“Yes.”

My stomach flips. “Why the hell was he there in the first place?”

“The fuck I know.” Dane shrugs, eyes tight. “But I’m sure he’s about to tell us.”

“Fuck.” I drag a hand through my wet hair. Luc steps up beside me and slides his hand around my waist possessively, murmuring something supportive I don’t quite catch.

Dane’s eyes flick to his hand, then to me. “You able to do this?” he asks, scanning me from head to toe. “You broke two fingers and were unconscious from hitting your head again.”

“I’m not unconscious now,” I shoot back. “And I’ve broken worse.”

Luc huffs a disbelieving laugh next to me.

“That doesn’t help,” Dane snaps, glaring now. “And how about the fact that they…” his eyes cut to Luc, “… know about your secret, and the season is over?”

Panic claws at my chest at the reminder that my secret is out, but then the rest of his words sink in. “What do you mean, the season is over ? It isn’t over!”

“Alaina—”

“Yeah, they know…” I interrupt, “… but honestly, I don’t think they’ll rat me out to the UCI.”

“I won’t,” Luc says firmly, kissing my temple. “And I’ll make sure Payne won’t either. Not that I think he would.”

Dane doesn’t look convinced. “Even so, Al, you’re done. You crashed, you broke your fingers for fuck’s sake.”

“It’s just fingers, Dane!” I snap. “I’m already broken from head to toe, that shit doesn’t matter. I’ve got a few days off now, and they can heal somewhat, then I’m back at it.”

“You could ruin your hand doing that.”

“Who fucking cares!”

The second the words leave my mouth, I want to snatch them back. Dane flinches like I hit him, and guilt overwhelms me.

He growls low in his throat. “Alaina.” He’s not angry, just hurt and disappointed. That’s so much worse.

“Listen,” I push on, desperate now. “You crashed once and still managed to grab the overall.”

“True,” Luc adds. “I did too.”

“Right! He did too.” I point at him. “This race was a disaster. Half the circuit got disqualified or crashed. I can still grab the overall. Who won anyway?”

Luc’s smirk stretches as he tugs me closer. “I did.”

“And who came second?”

“Mason,” Dane replies.

“And Raine?”

“Third.”

“That’s good. That’s really good.” My brain is already calculating. “So that brings the overall points to…”

Luc lifts a brow, smug as hell. “I’m at eight-fifty.”

I scoff. “Show-off.”

He grins and shrugs like he can’t help being disgustingly talented. “Raine’s next with seven-seventy-five. Mason’s at seven hundred.”

“And me?” I ask, even though I already know.

“You’re at six-twenty-five,” Dane grumbles, leveling a look at me like that should mean game over.

But it doesn’t.

Because I need this, I need to finish what I started. If I walk away now, if I let this go, I’m afraid I won’t recognize myself when the dust settles. Afraid I’ll just be what he made me— wreckage.

And I can’t be that, not again.

Not when I’ve come this far on blood, rage, and bones that haven’t quite set right.

“Exactly,” I say, like he just proved my point. “I’m still in it.”

Luc laughs, burying his face in my hair. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.” I really do.

Dane throws up his hands. “Alaina, that’s a hundred and fifty-point gap!”

“Which I can close,” I shoot back. “One solid race where Luc eats a rock and Raine flats out, and I’ve got it.”

“I’m not planning on eating any rocks, ma Petite ,” Luc says dryly, but there’s amusement in his eyes.

“Then stay on your bike,” I tease.

Dane groans. “You’re not invincible. You’ve broken more bones than a stuntman, and you still think you can finish this season like nothing happened.”

“I don’t think,” I say. “I know. I have to.”

He looks between me and Luc, then rubs his hands over his face. “You’re gonna give me a stroke.”

“You’re too young for strokes.” I pat his chest like I’m reassuring an old man.

“God help me,” Dane mutters.

élise’s voice floats in from down the hallway. “You guys want a coffee?”

Luc perks up immediately. “ Oui, s’il tepla?t, Maman!”

Dane sighs, looking down the hallway like caffeine is the only thing keeping him from committing a murder.

Luc threads his fingers through mine and tugs. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” I answer automatically as we file out, and the reminder that my dad is here creeps in.

He grins. “Knew it.”

“Let’s table the coffee flirting,” Dane says wearily. “We’ve got to survive whatever fuck-up this is with Dad first.”

Perfect. I mutter the word under my breath. “What did he say?”

“Not much. Only that he wanted to see you. So, yeah. We’re in for a ride.”

“He’s that bad?” Luc asks, whispering.

“You’ll see,” I whisper back, eyes ahead.

At the end of the hallway, élise greets us like we’re heading into a garden brunch instead of a psychological battlefield filled with landmines. She kisses both of us on the cheek, then squeezes Dane’s forearm as she meets my gaze.

“Ready?”

“Have to be,” I mutter.

Then we walk into the kitchen, and I freeze when I see him.

Ambrose Crews.

His arm is flung casually across the back of a chair at élise’s dining table, but nothing about him is relaxed.

His tailored suit is as severe as his expression, and his hair is now more ash than blond, cut short and neat.

Those same green eyes that once flicked to my race results on screens without ever looking too closely sweep over me like I’m an unfinished report, some quarterly problem he didn’t approve.

I can’t move, and for a beat, I forget how to breathe as the air stiffens around him like the room is bracing.

Fuck.

I’ve seen him maybe three times over FaceTime in the last seven years, and once in person when everything fell apart, and I came home in pieces. And even then, he didn’t stay long.

If someone saw us on the street together, they wouldn’t even guess we were related. Dane and I both inherited our mother’s dark features, brown hair, and brown eyes, but Ambrose Crews is pale with light features.

His gaze stops on where Luc is still holding my hand, and I almost pull away out of old instinct, but Luc squeezes gently. I tear my gaze away from my father and glance up at Luc, only to find him smiling reassuringly at me, like there’s nothing to fear in this room at all.

But I know better.

“What happened to your hair, Alaina?”

That’s the first thing out of my father’s mouth.

Not hi. Not how are you. Just that.

The question digs under my skin in a way I hate, and my bad hand twitches like it wants to hide behind my back. Instead, I lift it and run my fingers through the choppy strands. “I cut it.”

“I can see that,” he replies flatly.

Luc steps in, utterly unbothered by the glacial air. “Isn’t it beautiful? I love her haircut.”

I grin up at him because he says it like it’s the truth. Like it’s obvious.

Dane shifts slightly in front of me and glares at our father. “She was just in the hospital after a bad crash. She broke her fingers and got knocked out cold, and your first question is about her hair?”

Dad straightens. “Apparently, I don’t get informed about such things anymore.

Or your whereabouts. No, I had to hear it from hospital staff.

I was in a meeting in Frankfurt when they called me.

And that was only because I’m still your emergency contact, Alaina.

” His gaze lands back on me, eyes sharp.

My stomach twists. “Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Dad folds his arms, expression flat.

“And let me tell you my surprise when they told me you were in a hospital in France after a bike accident. A quick Google search told me that the World Cup was taking place yesterday in Les Gets, which happens to be just a stone’s throw from that hospital.

So…” He tilts his head. “You’re racing again? ”

I glance at Dane, confused. “Yeah? I mean, you knew that. I’ve been on the circuit this season as a privateer.” Dane makes a sound, almost a groan, and I narrow my gaze at him. “He knows that, right?”

Luc lets go of my hand, but only so he can move behind me and slip his arms around my waist. His body presses into me warm and steady, like he knows this is about to hurt .

Dad’s gaze doesn’t budge. “Do I, Dane?”

Dane exhales sharply. “No. He doesn’t.”

“ What? How could we do this then? You said he gave us the money to?—”

“It was my money, okay?” Dane cuts me off, moving his gaze from Dad to me. His eyes flicker with a look I know too well. That silent, stubborn glint that says, later. Not in front of him. I clench my jaw and nod, even though I want to hurt him a little for lying to me.

What the fuck, Dane?

Why would he feel the need to lie to me, and why the hell would he give all his prize money for my vendetta?

I wouldn’t have let him. I?—

Oh.

“Okay,” I whisper, too much clicking into place.

“You were always so easily persuaded by him,” Dad scoffs. “To throw your life away. Once, apparently twice.”

Luc lets out a breath like a gasp behind me, and I reach up to stroke his forearm that is still around my waist, trying to reassure him.

This is nothing new to me.

My father is a dick.

“I’m not throwing—” I start, but élise cuts me off.

“Why don’t we sit for this conversation?” she suggests calmly.

The table is already set with mugs, cream, sugar, and hot coffee, but nobody sits down or reaches for it.

“I’m not here to fight,” Dad sighs. “Let’s just round this up. Get your stuff. We’ll catch the jet.”

I blink. “What?”

“I’ll take you back with me,” he says, glancing at my cast like it offends him. “You need a hand specialist. Not a tiny hospital in the middle of nowhere run by mountain people. Even the cast looks wonky. ”

I bite back a snarl. “Fuck you.”

Dane steps forward, hand on my forearm. “Alaina,” he warns.

“No.” I shake him off. “I don’t have to go anywhere. Last time I checked, I’m an adult. I don’t need your money, and I certainly don’t need your care. It’s not like I’ve ever had it anyway.”

Dad’s eyes narrow. “I guess that’s fair.”

Dane and I both freeze. Did he just ? —

“I didn’t look after you, and look where it’s brought you. Back in the same situation as last time. Maybe all this recklessness, this need to hurt yourself, is my fault. I can acknowledge that. Maybe my absence caused all this.”

Dane scoffs in disbelief.

“But…” Dad continues, “… I can also be the reason this doesn’t happen a third time.”

I open my mouth, fury rising.

“Alaina,” he says, voice stern, but there’s something else too. “I can’t handle another call from a hospital on your behalf. Do you understand me?”

For a heartbeat, I do. I see it, something like fear behind his eyes. Something almost real, almost as though he gives a shit. And I almost believe it.

But then I remember every night I screamed into my pillow, pain lighting up every nerve, and that the only one who ever came running was Dane. Not him. Never him.

“I’m not coming with you, and if you try to drag me out of here, I will scream and report you for kidnapping.”

Luc tightens his hold around me as if to say that he won’t let that happen, no matter what.

I let myself lean into the certainty that I’m not alone in this fight. With Luc behind me, I feel safe. Maybe even loved.

“You’re twenty-four,” Dad snaps. “Don’t act like an ungrateful child.”

I raise my chin. “You can go back to your pretty little jet and fly back to DC. We’re not coming.”

I glance at Dane, and he nods. “She’s not going.”

Dad’s jaw works, his lips pressed thin. “This isn’t over, Alaina. We’re going to talk about this some more.” Then he turns to Dane. “Dane, a word.”

Dane huffs like it’s the last thing he wants but gestures toward the living room. They walk off, voices too low to catch as they murmur to each other, and I’m left standing there in the kitchen, Luc’s arms around me, my heart hammering, and my coffee untouched.

The silence hums in his wake, heavy with the years between us, the wreckage he left behind, and the pieces Dane and I stitched back together with blood.

I lean back even harder into Luc’s chest, and he doesn’t move or speak. He just holds me like he knows I’m bracing for the aftershocks.

But I don’t cry or scream. I just breathe.

For the first time ever, I stood my ground and didn’t let Dane speak for me.

I did it myself.

And he heard me.

A soft clink draws my attention as élise steps forward and sets a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of me.

She brushes a hand over my shoulder and murmurs, “Take your time, ma chérie . You’ve already done the hard part.”

And somehow, that’s exactly what I needed to hear.