Page 201 of Traitor

I could've let him get lost in Nemesis. Could've let him disappear in seconds, swallowed whole by my unholy creation. But after that night with Temper at the viewpoint, after hearing every fucking thing she went through right from her mouth, I felt the darkness riding me. Rising. Demanding this fucker's pain and blood to come directly from my hands.

Temper doesn't need to face him. Jinx was enough. She's truly healing now and this asshole could send her back spiraling. But that doesn't mean I don't get to have my fun.

I don't think Temper realizes it fully, but Lucas targeted her. He wasn't just some reckless kid. He was nineteen. Grew up in the club. At that age, he was already caught up in club business. Already had his road name — Slick. And I'm sure it's not a stretch to think that road name came from the fact that he was good at luring girls for the club. Evidence points to underage girls.

He got Temper through that fucking door. Led her straight to Jinx.

I'll have all the answers soon.

And then I'll paint the fucking walls with him.

I enter The Fun House slowly, my eyes measuring the twitching mess trapped in the middle of the room. The stench of fear is thick in the air. Ghost, Joker, Domino, Fang and fucking Reaper are already inside, waiting for the show to start.

I glance at Reaper, his expression carved from stone, unreadable.

"Thanks for picking him up," I say.

Reaper nods, voice cold. "It was my pleasure."

I turn back to Lucas. He's bound to a metal chair, similar to the one where Jinx took his last breath.

He's twitching worse now, clearly struggling to piece together what the fuck is happening. I take my time looking at him, watching how his wide, bloodshot eyes dart from man to man. Then his gaze lands on me.

Terror blooms.

Beautiful.

He flinches, his hands straining against the zip ties. His whole body starts shaking, an addict in withdrawal and a rat trapped in a cage.

I take a seat across from him. No table between us. No barrier. Just the weight of inevitability settling over his wasted life.

"Hey there, Slick." My voice is calm, conversational. "How are you liking your early release?"

His head jerks up, confusion clouding his sunken features. "I...I...I don't know what's going on. What's going on?" He whips his head around the room, panic crawling up his throat. "Why am I here?"

I smile, slow and lazy. "So many questions." I tilt my head, amused. "But no'thank you'to the man who arranged that fancy, expensive lawyer who got you out a year early?"

His brows furrow. "Th...Thank you?"

I sigh, feigning disappointment. "That sounded more like a question than genuine appreciation."

Someone snickers behind me.

Lucas' frown deepens, but then his expression twists with slow, creeping realization. "Who...Who are you?"

I let the silence settle. Let him stew in it.

Then I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees, casual as fuck.

"Meth?" I muse, watching the tick in his jaw. "That what you're hooked on? Heard it fucks with your head pretty bad." I smile. "Bones. Ever heard of me?" My smile turns into a full on grin.

His breath stutters. His entire body locks up. The tremors stop, but only because pure, undiluted terror takes over.

"No...no...no!"

He starts shaking his head, the words coming out like a panicked chant.

I lounge back, enjoying the show.

---