Page 35 of Unhinged

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ACID

The air in my room feels suffocating, like it’s closing in around me.

No matter how many times I try to shut my eyes and shake it off, the memory of last night claws at me.

I heard her. Brydgett. And I know damn well it wasn’t me making her sound like that.

Gears hasn’t come crawling back with his tail between his legs, so that only leaves one bastard—Arrow.

My jaw tightens. I can still smell her, the sweet, addictive scent of floral citrus lingering through the thin walls.

If I can catch it from here, the others probably can too.

That’s why we needed to claim her. Church made it official.

Brydgett is our Ol’ Lady. But even that does little to quench the jealousy that curdles in my gut.

I shove the blankets aside and push up from the bed.

The mattress creaks beneath me, but I barely notice.

The clubhouse is quieter than usual, the distant hum of morning routines dulling the buzz of my irritation.

I need caffeine. No coffee, though. I crave something that punches harder. Red Bull will do.

The kitchen is empty, the quiet lingering like an unwelcome guest. I pull open the fridge, the cool air washing over me as I grab a Red Bull—grapefruit and blossom flavor.

The purple can sweats against my palm as the floral citrus substitute does little to settle my nerves.

Just as I turn, the door swings open. Arrow and Brydgett step inside, their presence shattering the stillness.

They move together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Their alpha and omega in perfect sync. She’s laughing softly, her face still flushed. Arrow’s eyes crinkle as he watches her, like he’s soaking in every moment. They look like a couple. A pair of fated mates, bound and inseparable.

Jealousy flares, sharp and blistering, my alpha demanding I take what is mine. But I swallow it down. We’re brothers. A pack. She hasn’t chosen just him. Arrow was just the first lucky bastard to feel her from the inside. That doesn’t mean the rest of us won’t get our turn.

“Morning,” I mutter, taking another slow sip of my Red Bull; the sharp citrus lingers on my tongue, teasing me.

“Morning,” Brydgett answers, her voice light. Too light. Like she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Arrow just smirks, the asshole. He pulls out a chair for her, then strides to the pantry. The casual domesticity of it gnaws at me. He grabs a variety of cereals, bowls, spoons, and a carton of milk, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He pours them both a cup of coffee, handing hers over like it’s a daily ritual. My jaw clenches. He’s feeding her? Providing for my omega?

“We need to talk,” I say, keeping my tone steady. I grab a bowl and spoon, my hands moving on their own as I sit down at the table, trying to ignore the tension building in my chest.

Brydgett arches a brow. “About what?” She chooses a box from the table, pouring a heap of cereal into her bowl. I watch as she drowns Cinnamon Toast Crunch in milk, the obnoxious crunch of her first bite ringing louder than it should. Like this isn’t killing me.

I pour myself some Lucky Charms, the sound of the cereal hitting the bowl unnervingly loud. The milk follows, settling with a quiet splash.

“Your extracurriculars,” I shoot back. “You dealt with Kenny. We needed answers from him. Hoping you’ve got something we don’t.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know much. But sure. After breakfast. I’ll shower, then we can talk. Where you wanna do this at?”

“My office,” Gears grumbles as he slumps into the kitchen. The bags under his eyes tell me he didn’t get much sleep, and I don’t have to guess why.

Arrow’s smirk widens. “Your office. Got it.” Then he turns to Brydgett, dropping his tone. “Need help in the shower, Gidge?”

Her cheeks flush, that beautiful shade of pink that makes my fingers twitch as her scent intensifies.

“Nope,” she says, flustered. “I think you helped enough last night. I’ll be okay.”

She gathers her bowl, retreating with as much dignity as she can muster. I watch her until she disappears down the hall, the swing of her hips taunting me. Then it’s just me and my brothers.

“Well, that was painful,” Gears mutters, running a hand down his face. “You heard it too?”

“Hard not to,” I grit out. “Thin walls.”

Arrow grins like the smug bastard he is. “You’ll get your turn. She’s ours now. No need to get all twisted up about it.”

My teeth grind. “Maybe. But until then, we’ve got other things to deal with.” I shove another spoonful of Lucky Charms into my mouth, the sugary crunch doing little to quell the simmering heat.

Today we get answers. And I’ll be damned if I’m not the one she looks at next.

Tension simmers as we sit, just the three of us, at the table, the remnants of breakfast scattered across it like our unspoken emotions. The Renegade MC crest hangs above us, a silent witness to the chaos brewing beneath its proud emblem.

“Did you fuck her?” Gears asks, his words sharp, like he’s trying hard not to lose it.

“Yes.” Arrow's grin widens, a mix of triumph and mischief dancing in the depths of his gaze.

“Fuck,” Gears hisses, his frustration palpable. “She was into it?”

“Did she sound into it?” Arrow bites back, undeterred by the scrutiny of his brother. The way he leans back in his chair speaks volumes—he's claiming this moment, relishing every second.

My heart races at the thought of Brydgett underneath Arrow.

“She told me no knotting, and I listened.” He shrugs.

My body betrays me as images flit through my mind—her skin against mine, soft gasps mingling with the rhythm of our bodies moving together. The thought of sinking my knot inside her makes my pulse quicken, an instinctual need clawing its way to the forefront.

“How was it?” I ask, desperate for details that will both satisfy and torment me.

“Amazing,” Arrow replies, unabashed. “So fucking tight and sexy. Tastes just like she smells—I could eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” His words drip with desire, leaving no room for doubt about how he felt in those intimate moments.

“But go slow if she lets you in like that. I was her first.”

“But…” Gears starts, his brows furrowing as he processes what Arrow just revealed.

“Rape doesn’t count, so I was her first,” Arrow barks, venom lacing his tone as he defends Brydgett’s honor with ferocity.

“I’ll kill that fucker,” I growl under my breath, fury surging through me like gasoline igniting a flame, my alpha demanding justice.

The idea of Earl’s hands on her makes my blood boil—he took so much from her.

Arrow nods, the smugness gone from his features.

“He’s not getting near her again,” he promises, his tone dark.

“Then we end him,” I say, a steely determination taking root. My alpha settles with a single, focused intent. I won't rest until Earl pays for every damn thing he's done.

The door swings open, shattering the moment as Judge and Dillon bound into the kitchen.

"Mom!" Judge calls out, his voice echoing off the walls.

"She’s in the shower," I reply, keeping my tone light despite the dark thoughts swirling in my mind. Judge nods, his face lighting up with anticipation.

“Tell her I’m in the playroom! Dillon said she’s gonna buy the new Call of Duty, so we’re gonna play!”

“Okay, little man,” I say, watching as they dash out of the kitchen. Their laughter fades down the hallway, replaced by an almost eerie silence that settles back over us.

I smell her before I see her—Brydgett. Fresh scent blocking soap and the now faint trace of her perfume fill the air, twisting something inside me.

My gaze snaps to the doorway as she strides in, hair damp and curling at the ends, droplets clinging to the bare skin of her shoulders.

The simple tank top she’s wearing clings to her curves, reminding me—and everyone else—just how fucking tempting she is.

“You’re still eating? Christ, I’m ready to get this show on the road,” she says.

"Come on, Gidge, I’ll escort you," Arrow offers, slipping an arm around hers. The move makes my teeth clench as my alpha surges forward, but Brydgett only rolls her eyes, though she doesn't pull away. She lets him lead her toward the door.

"You come inside of me, and all of a sudden you’re a gentleman," she quips, and Arrow's grin widens. He throws a smug wink in Gears' direction—and then at me.

Lucky fucking bastard.

With them already halfway out, I shove my chair back harder than necessary, the legs scraping against the floor. The table is still littered with the remnants of breakfast—half-eaten bowls of cereal, crumpled napkins, and sticky spills left for the club girls to clean up. None of it matters.

All I can think about is Brydgett. And the fact that she isn't mine. Not yet.

Gears rises from the table, his chair scraping the floor as he does, his heavy steps echoing as he walks toward the door.

He doesn't spare a glance in my direction as he pushes past me, headed toward his office.

The door to his office creaks open with a low groan.

I lean against the doorframe as he enters and settles into the leather chair behind the mahogany desk.

The room reeks of leather and frustration.

The desk is scuffed from years of fists slamming down, and the air is thick with unspoken threats.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at my lips. Brydgett and Arrow have already made their way into the room, slipping past without a sound. Our omega perches on the loveseat next to Arrow like she owns the place.

She’s an omega in every sense of the word—soft curves, delicate scent, and a dangerous edge that keeps every alpha on alert. But her eyes? Pure steel.

Gears doesn't waste time. "Brydgett, we need to know—do you have any idea what Kenny was up to? Was it his dealings with us? The drugs he was slinging on our turf?"

Her lips curl, but not in amusement. More like she’s daring us to underestimate her.

"No," she says simply. "I don't know anything about that."

Liar. Maybe. But she’s good at it. Too good. I lean forward, the weight of her scent pulling at something inside me. Sweet with a bite of defiance.

"Then why did you kill him?"

Brydgett doesn’t flinch. Her gaze flicks to mine, unwavering. That omega bravado she wears so effortlessly only fuels the hum beneath my skin.

"He got handsy and rough with me," she says, her tone disturbingly even. "And that’s not something I allow."

A statement. Not an excuse. Not even an ounce of regret.

"So I followed him," she continues, like she’s recounting a mundane errand. "Broke in. Straddled him in his sleep. Used Mr. Stabby to tap him awake. He thought I was there to fuck him. I had other plans."

“What’s Mr. Stabby?” I ask.

She smiles. “My favorite knife. It’s what I was grabbing from the bushes which led you to me.”

Mr. Stabby. Her favorite knife.

"Slit his throat," she finishes. "When you all showed up, I stripped down and played the damsel. You know the rest." She flashes a grin that shouldn’t be this damn charming. "By the way, I had Mr. Stabby in the car before the wreck. What happened to all my stuff?"

"It’s still in the car," Gears growls, clearly struggling to keep his composure. "We had it towed to our garage. You can grab whatever you want."

"Sweet," she hums, satisfied.

There’s a pause, the air buzzing. Gears’ jaw tightens, he is clearly fighting his instincts but his tone stays even.

"Kenny was dealing tar, and that’s not what we dabble in. He also broke our rule of selling to kids. We’re not saints, but we keep our streets clean. Kenny was double-dippin’. Getting shit from someone else. We need to know who."

Brydgett tilts her head. "I don’t know anything about that."

"One of our informants said there’s a new player in town. Might even be an outsider. He’s making moves on our turf, and we need to put a stop to it."

"Wish I could help, but no fucking clue," she replies with a smile. Infuriating. Gorgeous.

"Dammit!" Gears slams his fist on the desk. The impact rattles the room, but Brydgett doesn’t so much as blink.

"No need to get so worked up, boss man," she purrs, savoring his frustration. "But I might have an idea."

I narrow my eyes. "What?"

"Where did Kenny hang out?"

"The Rusty Nail. Downtown."

She scoffs. "Typical."

"What are you thinking?"

"I go down there," she says, shrugging like it’s obvious. "Act like I was sweet on him. See what I can find out. Someone there has to know something if that was his spot."

"No." Gears’ voice is sharp, the alpha authority bleeding through.

Brydgett tilts her head, that sly little smile curving her lips. "You’re not my boss. Not my president. And definitely not my alpha. You don’t get to bark at me."

I shouldn’t enjoy the way she says it. But fuck if it doesn’t send a bolt of heat straight through me.

"You wanted the Slayer as your ally, you got her."

"Brydgett," Gears warns, but she just leans back, daring him to challenge her.

"Gears," she mocks, like she’s tasting the name on her tongue. "You can’t change your mind now that you know we’re scent-matched. Kismet or not, you’ll never control me. Don’t even try. So… you coming with, or not?"

"We’ll be going with," I say, the words slipping free before I can think twice. There’s no way in hell we’re letting her walk into a place like The Rusty Nail alone.

"Perfect!" she claps, practically glowing with satisfaction. "I’ll meet you out front in twenty."

And just like that, she sashays out of the room. Gears drops his head into his hands with a groan.

"Of all the omegas we could be Kismet with, we get a goddamn serial killer. She’s never gonna let us have peace. I can feel it already."

I light a cigarette, inhaling deep. The smoke does nothing to smother the lingering scent of her. Sweet. Dangerous.

"I’m good with it." I smirk.

"Same," Arrow chimes in, already pushing off the wall. "Now, I’m gonna see if she needs any help getting dressed. Maybe she’ll let me play before we leave."

"Fucker," Gears mutters under his breath.

And yet, none of us stop him. Not when it comes to Brydgett. She may be a wildfire in disguise, all soft edges and quiet fury, but we all know we’re already caught in her pull. And none of us are getting out.