Page 101 of Traitor

Next comes Ghost.

By the time I get to him, the girls have turned into vengeful wraiths, and more than half the brothers are groaning on the ground.

Ghost holds out the longest. He takes it, silent, controlled, his body locked tight.

But when the last hit lands, he falls to one knee.

And then I hear it. Quiet. Rough.

"I'm sorry, Ely. I'm sorry, Temperance."

I say nothing. I don't stop.

Finally, I turn to Bones.

I drag my gaze over him, with narrowed eyes, letting every inch of his ruined body sink into my mind.

Gunshot wound at the shoulder. Cigarette burns branding his skin in angry, blistered patches. Dozens of cuts — some shallow, others slicing deep, a testament to my hands, my vengeance. His wrists and ankles still bear the raw, chafed marks of where I kept him bound.

His broken nose is still healing.

And then — my eyes land on his throat.

On the mark he carved into himself.

Something stirs inside me.

Even with his body a battlefield, a map of suffering and penance, he looks magnificent. Brutal. Unbreakable.

His muscles twitch under my stare, coiled tight, his body reacting to me without permission.

He watches me with burning eyes, his expression unreadable.

Then — he smiles.

Knows. Accepts. Waits for me to make my move.

"Take your pound of flesh, fiery Temper," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "It's yours."

I twirl the paddle in my hand, feeling its weight, its promise.

I narrow my eyes. His ass is mine.

Bones

The first hit lands like a fucking million tiny knives, the sting sharp and immediate, the spiked wood punching through the air with a crack. Pain rips across my skin, setting every nerve on fire.

I grit my teeth and take it.

Some of my brothers are still lined up beside me, bare-ass naked, taking the same punishment from Ria and the other four club girls Temper convinced to play executioner. But most of them are laying on the ground, groaning, trying to piece their dignity back together.

The second hit lands on the other cheek, just as vicious, just as fucking brutal.

Fuck.

The muscles in my thighs twitch from the sting, but I hold still. No shifting. No reacting. I breathe through the heat crawling across my skin.

My beautiful, vengeful goddess adjusts her stance, rolling her shoulders like she's getting comfortable. I don't need to look at her to know she's smirking. I can feel it.

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