Page 27 of Healed

There was so much left unsaid in Dante’s barked command. So much distrust. So much anger. So much history wrapped in four words.

Gabriella’s jaw tightened, and for a second, I saw a flash of the girl I remembered beneath the exhaustion. “I’ll follow close.”

Dante nodded once, then helped me toward the car.

Getting into the back seat was less a movement and more a tragic performance piece. I tried to lower myself with dignity, missed dignity entirely, and collapsed sideways across the leather with a groan that I would later deny making. Rachel made a sympathetic noise that was absolutely not sympathetic, and Dante shoved my legs in like I was an inconvenient bit of luggage.

“Comfortable?” he asked.

“I’ve had better dates.”

Gabriella slid into the driver’s seat, her hands curling around the wheel.

For a moment, our eyes met in the rear-view mirror.

Everything was there.

Every year.

Every lie.

Every wound.

Every unanswered question.

But neither of us said a word.

Outside, Dante climbed onto his bike, Rachel settling behind him with one last glare at the ruined clubhouse. Engines started. Devils mounted up. Rider territory, once forbidden and familiar and soaked in Gabriella’s history, began to fall away around us.

Gabriella put the car into gear.

And after ten years of trying to get back to each other, she drove me home.

Chapter 8

Gabriella

I stalled the car.

I stalled the goddamn fucking car.

I don’t know if nerves got the better of me or what, but for some reason, after rolling two metres backwards, the car stalled and I didn’t know what to do about it.

Starting the car again would have been a good place to begin, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

“Trouble?” Dante smirked at me as I climbed out of the car.

What was I doing outside of the car?

Avoiding Vienna, that’s what you’re doing.

Fuck off, subconscious. I don’t need you starting with me.

“Dante, leave her the fuck alone,” Rachel hissed back.

I drowned them out as they began to bicker back and forth. Which ended with Dante grabbing her roughly by the back of the neck and hauling her against him, delivering a searing kiss that I had absolutely no business watching, and uncomfortably turned away from.

I focused on the rest of the Disciples instead, each of them swinging their legs over their bikes, yelling and cheering at one another. They threw catcalls at their leaders, which earned them the middle finger from Dante, and then set off, not waiting for the two of them to finish their—inappropriate—kiss.