Page 177 of Traitor

"Hello, demon," I answer evenly.

Temper chuckles, shaking her head.

"When are you going to pull the watchdogs back?" Ria demands, arms crossed, brows furrowed. "It's been months since that freak incident and no one showed. I think we can safely assume they won't."

"I'm not taking any chances, Ria. Those fuckers are nuttier than a fruitcake." My voice is steel. "It's either the watchdogs, as you call them, or upgraded security systems at your home and shop, plus a GPS personal alarm with me or another one of the brothers as an emergency contact. You've refused those, so the watchdogs remain."

She lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing her head back. "You're impossible, biker brute!" And then she stomps off, but freezes after a few steps. Spins back around, arms in the air.

"The cupcakes!"

I chuckle, looking down at Temper. She's watching Ria with an amused glint in her eyes before turning back to me.

"Thank you for watching out for her," she says softly. "She's stubborn and very particular about her security measures. She likes to control them completely. But I know having someone physically watching her is an extra layer of safety. That cult is really fucking disturbing. Who knows what would've happened if someone more...proactive had spotted her instead of that guy."

I give her shoulders a gentle squeeze, voice firm. A promise.

"I won't let her bully me out of keeping her safe, I promise."

She holds my gaze for just a beat too long, and I feel it spreading through my chest.

Hope.

This is going so much better than I expected.

Temper is relaxed, talking with the brothers and the old ladies, even laughing at some of their dumbass jokes. No shadows in her eyes. No stiffness in her shoulders. No fucking anger aimed at me. She's just... here. With me. In my world. And she's okay.

Well. Except for Joker.

She's been giving him the stink eye all fucking day. He didn't even try to approach her. Smart move. I know exactly what that's about — Layla. Women's solidarity and all that. And I get it. I'm just glad she's not aiming that death glare at me anymore.

Ghost is still locked up in his room, wasting away in his misery. Nothing interests him these days unless it's about Adora or club business that can't be handled without him. I know he's been on a killing spree lately. I need to talk to him about that. Make sure his head is still on straight. Make sure he's not going to get himself killed.

Right now, though, I'm focused on her.

I make my way back to Temper, a plate of chicken wings in my hand. She's talking to Mindfuck, and I catch their conversation the closer I get.

Ah, fuck. He's up to his games again.

"Yes, I know what you fucking mean. But we still make our own choices," she argues, crossing her arms, her face twisted in stubborn defiance.

Mindfuck sighs, like he's carrying the weight of the entire universe. "Your body is actually tricking you into thinking you have free will. Your brain makes decisions before you are even consciously aware of them. Which means that your choices might be predetermined. Whether you eat the cupcake or not, the decision was already made for you before you were even aware of it."

Jesus fucking Christ.

I chuckle, taking a seat beside her.

Temper lifts her chin, eyes glinting with mischief, and fires back without missing a beat. "I arranged your spanking." Like that's the ultimate argument to make Mindfuck shut up.

It's not. There is nothing that could ever make him shut up.

He freezes. Narrows his eyes. And then smirks.

"We don't talk about that," he mutters. "But, for the sake of argument, you should know that I was never truly spanked. We never actually touch anything. The electrons in our atoms repel the electrons in other atoms, so what we feel as 'touch' is actually the electromagnetic force keeping everything from merging. In conclusion, that paddle never touched my ass."

And then the motherfucker bolts.

Temper doesn't hesitate. Grabs a cupcake. Launches it.

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