Throne of Scars (Lost Kings MC 20)

After that, Shelby wanders into the main area to search the stacks of DVDs.

“Are you okay, buttercup?” Gray’s eyes are full of concern. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“This isn’t your fault. I’m fine.” I tilt my head toward the door. “I like Shelby.”

“Yeah, she’s a good bunkmate.”

“Oo! Serena!” Shelby shouts. “They have Clueless. Did you ever see this?”

“It’s one of my favorites!” I yell back.

“I found popcorn…I think.”

Laughing, Gray nods for me to go join her. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Shelby’s curled up on one end of the couch with a blanket and a barrel-sized tin of popcorn. “This mighta been a mistake. Tastes like it’s been here a while,” she says, passing the tin to me.

I grab a handful of cheesy popcorn. It has the texture of Styrofoam but the salty cheese dust isn’t too bad.

“So, tell me more about your makeup channel.” Shelby pauses the DVD. “On the road, I have a makeup person. I absolutely adore her. But when I try doing some fancier looks on my own, I end up looking like a drunk toddler who got into the glitter jar.”

“I’d love to give you some tips. I didn’t bring any of my makeup with me though.”

“I’d love that! Next time we hang out, maybe?”

“Sure.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if she’d let me film it for my channel, but that seems really rude, and I don’t want to take advantage of her.

We’re close to the end of the movie when there’s a heavy metal clink from the hallway. Shelby pauses the movie and both of us sit up. Gray slashes his hand in the air, motioning for us to stay quiet and not move. He creeps toward the hallway and disappears.

“If it was one of the guys, they’d announce themselves, right?” Shelby whispers to me.

“I guess.”

Voices murmur from the hallway and heavy footsteps hurry toward us.

“We’re clear, chickadee,” Rooster’s big voice booms. A second later he rounds the corner. Shelby launches herself off the couch and runs to him.

“Logan! I was so worried about you!” she squeals.

“I’m fine. Club’s fine. Lot of cleanup to do, though.”

“They wreck the place?” Gray asks.

“Oh yeah. There’s a few issues. Z’s calling the club’s lawyer to get it taken care of.”

Shelby hugs Rooster tighter. “Is Jiggy okay?”

“Yeah. Just picking up his room.”

“Think we’re clear to come upstairs?” Gray asks.

“I think so. They didn’t find what they wanted. They were pissed but wasn’t much else they could do after they wrecked the place.”

Rooster helps us tidy up the bunker before leading us back upstairs to the clubhouse. The pool area seems undisturbed. But once we reach the main floor, the place is ransacked.

Walls have holes hacked into them with splinters of wood paneling and insulation littering the floor. Photos have been ripped off the walls, frames smashed and shattered. We step gingerly over broken glass and sharp metal pieces.

“Lordy, would you look at this mess?” Shelby says under her breath. “What the hell were they lookin’ for?”

Rooster grunts but doesn’t answer.

Wrath’s standing in a doorway holding up a door while Trinity helps him guide it where it needs to go.

We stop at our bedroom door where a black boot print indicates someone kicked it in. The frame is splintered but at least the door is still attached to its hinges.

Gray squeezes my shoulder. “Go check your stuff. I’m going to give Wrath a hand.”

“Okay.”

Shelby hugs me tight. “Thanks for keeping me sane down there,” she whispers against my ear.

I swallow hard and hug her back. “You too.”

“We’ll finish Clueless together one day soon.”

My lips curve up. “It’s a date.” I lift my gaze to Rooster’s worried eyes. “Thanks for…thanks for getting us out in time.” I glance at the rubble around us. “They seemed hellbent on destruction so I’m sure they would’ve made a big deal if they found Gray here.”

“No doubt.” Rooster holds out his fist to me. Laughing, I tap his knuckles with my own. Then he takes Shelby’s hand and they head down the hallway.

Our room must not have looked “lived in” enough to whoever busted inside. The destruction isn’t as severe. The covers are torn off the bed and the mattress askew. Drawers from the dresser, nightstands, and desk are all yanked out on the floor. But the makeup and hair stuff I left on the bathroom counter is undisturbed. My dress from last night still swings from its hanger in the closet, although my heels that I’d also left in the closet have been tossed into the middle of the room.

I work to get the drawers picked up and where they belong.

“What are you doing, buttercup?” Gray asks from behind me. “You shouldn’t be lifting anything.” He hurries to my side, taking the awkward but not heavy dresser drawer from my hands.