Page 32 of Traitor

I should feel fucking satisfied.

She played me. Lied to me. She deserved it.

So why the fuck can't I stop thinking about her?

Why do I keep seeing her the way she used to be?

Before her betrayal was exposed.

Before the fucking truth destroyed everything.

Flashback

She's in my bed, curled up against me, her fingers tracing patterns over my chest tattoos. Teasing, playful, but with that quiet softness only she ever brings out of me.

I have one arm behind my head, the other resting over her hip, holding her close, keeping her there.

Her voice is lazy, low. Happy.

"What's your real name?"

I crack an eye open, smirking. "Bones."

She huffs, shoving at my chest playfully. "No, your legal name."

I stay silent for a moment, debating if I should tell her.

Because nobody knows.

Not even the club. Not outside Ghost, my mother, and my old man.

She must sense my hesitation because she pulls herself up on her elbow, looking down at me, her eyes filled with something that makes my heart skip a beat — trust.

I exhale, running a hand up her back. Fucking soft. Warm.

"Three people know my name, baby," I murmur. "Ghost. My father. My mother."

Her breath hitches slightly, her gaze searching mine.

Then I tap her chin, hooking a finger beneath it, tilting her face toward mine.

"Guess that makes four now," I whisper.

She smiles. Soft. Teasing.

"Kane," I say, voice low. "My name is Kane."

She stills for a second, like she's memorizing the sound of it, the feel of it in the air.

Then, before I can read her expression, her mouth stretches into a slow, playful grin.

"Thanks for trusting me with that, Kane."

My eyes narrow. "Don't call me that."

She giggles, pressing a kiss against my jaw. "Oh, I won't. You'll always be Bones to me."

I raise a brow. "Oh really? Why?"

---