LANDON'S POV
The night air whips against my face as I speed down the highway. There's a cigar on my lips. I took it to calm myself down. I was pretty riled up earlier.
I smile. I can't help it. I feel satisfied.
Wally deserves every punch I gave him. The way the bikers cheered me on, the way they backed me up—it felt good. It felt right. But as much as I relish the victory, it’s the words he spat at Clarissa that still burn in my mind. They cut deeper than I want to admit. I’d do it all over again if I could. Hell, I’d leave him barely breathing if it meant shutting his filthy mouth for good.
But why do I care? Why does it bother me so much what some lowlife says about her? I remind myself—this thing between us, it’s just for show. Temporary. An act. Nothing more.
And yet… something
