Page 110 of Traitor

I lean in close, my voice soft, almost comforting. "If you ever think about approaching Temper again, just look at your chest. That’s your answer. Don't even think about reporting this. You're only breathing because I don't want to create problems for Temper, since she was the last one to see you tonight."

I smile. A promise.

"Say a word. Just one."

I press the blade to his jaw, feeling him shudder beneath me. "And I will find you. And before I kill you, I'll make you taste hell."

I let go. I stand. I walk away.

I mount my bike and disappear into the night.

Temper

My fiery Temper, I see it in your eyes every time: you don't believe I truly loved you. But I did. I still do. And I'll remind you why, every single day.

I love you because you made a home in places that were never meant to hold warmth. You walked into my world, built on blood and violence, and you carved out a space for yourself like you belonged. And you did belong. You always did. You always will.

I stare at the message on my phone like it's a coiled snake, ready to sink its fangs into my flesh. The air leaves my lungs in a slow, burning exhale. This is the last fucking thing I needed.

It’s new. It’s devious. It might be desperate.

He’s been coming at me constantly for the past four months. Thoughtful gifts, expensive gifts, following me around, trying to talk to me, sending lunch at my office. I always manage to avoid him. Slam the door in his face, or else I might just grab a knife and start slashing.

And I’m trying. I’m really trying not to walk the blood path again. I know it’s not a long term solution. I don’t want to lose myself completely in that darkness.

But at one point, I just saidfuck itand answered the door with a gun in my hand. Ready to shoot him point blank. He disarmed me so fast I didn’t even realize what was happening. Smirked and left, taking my gun with him. Said he’ll make sure it’s clean and working properly and then he’ll return it. And he did. He did return it. Asshole!

Now it seems he’s trying a new way to make himself heard.

My fingers tighten around the phone, my pulse hammering. Fury rises fast, like a tornado, uncontainable. My thumbs move before I can stop them, before I can think.

I didn't fucking make a home with you!

And you never loved me!

If I had a home with you, if you loved me, it wouldn't have been so easy to discard me!

You weren't protecting yourself or anyone else that night. You were protecting your precious Romano deal.

Lies. Lies are all that come out of your mouth!

Send.

I don't wait. I don't let myself process it.

I block the number, slamming my phone onto the counter. Like it will erase the words. Like it will erase him.

But it won't.

Fucking Bones.

He'll find a way to keep sending this shit. I know it. I feel it.

Bones looms over me, his body a cage, his hands braced on either side of my head. The dim light casts shadows across his sharp features, and that lazy smirk, the one that tells me he knows something I don't, sends a slow, anticipatory shiver down my spine.

His thumb traces my lower lip, just a whisper of touch, a promise wrapped in patience.

"Baby, I'm a starving man." His voice is low, unhurried, laced with something dangerously possessive. "Three days on the road without you? Too much."

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