Page 55 of Traitor

"And," he adds, a smug smirk tugging at his mouth, "because we had bigger fish to fry. Taking down the entire Iron Vultures MC was a lot more valuable than just locking up one piece-of-shit biker for a short time. We wantedlifefor you and your so-called brothers. And she gave us all the info we needed."

I don't blink. Don't breathe.

The walls press in. The truth presses in.

She didn't fight me. Didn't even want to punish me, personally.

She just wanted me gone.

I sit back, dragging my tongue over my teeth, nodding slowly. "You done?"

The agent closes his file, leans forward. "Not even close."

I smirk, but it's hollow. So fucking hollow.

Five days. That's how long I have to sit in that goddamn cell.

Five days to let her final revenge sink in.

"She's gone into witness protection. They moved fast, and I don't have access to her new identity. I'll see what I can dig up, but I can't promise anything. I'll send you her testimony tapes as soon as I can," David, our FBI inside man, says, his unease bleeding through the phone. What else is there to say? Ely,my Ely, dropped from the face of the earth like she never existed.

The room spins, the air sharp and thin, and suddenly I can't fucking breathe.

David's voice drones on, but it's just noise, just a distant hum beneath the violent roar in my head. My fingers twitch at my sides, aching for something, someone to destroy, to shatter, to make feel as fucking wrecked as I do in this moment.

But nothing in this goddamn world could feel as ruined as me.

I end the call without a word. I force myself to swallow, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my throat.Gone. The word slams into my chest, a wrecking ball straight to the ribs, crushing everything in its wake.

I waited too long. I fuckingwaited.

While I was cleaning up the mess with the feds, making sure our operations weren't exposed, Ely was slipping through my fingers. I should have gone to her first. I should have fucking gone to her first.

But I didn't. And now she's vanished into thin air. A new identity. A new life. A life without me.

My breathing turns ragged, uneven, and the walls of my office feel too fucking close. My pulse pounds, the blood in my veins boiling over, and for the first time since I lost her, I realize she might actually be gone forever.

My stomach twists, a sick, gut-wrenching feeling crawling up my throat, because this? This is worse than death.

She's out there, breathing, moving, existing without me. And I will never find her.

I slam my fist into the desk, the wood cracking beneath the force, splinters digging into my knuckles. It's not enough. I shove the chair back, pacing like a caged animal, my mind racing, replaying every single second of every single mistake that led me here.

I put that fucking "TRAITOR" tattoo on her. I made her wear my rage, my blind stupidity, inked it into her skin like I had the right. Like I wasn't the real fucking traitor.

I sent her back to Jinx.

Jinx.

The name alone makes my vision go red. I see his hands on her, his breath on her skin, the pain she must have endured, the fear she must have felt... and I did that.

I let that happen.

I broke the only woman I ever fucking loved and left her for dead.

My fists clench so tight my nails dig into my palms, but it's nothing compared to the agony tearing me apart from the inside. I want to rip my own skin off. I want to bleed, to hurt, to suffer the way she suffered.

Ghost's voice cuts through the storm raging in my head. "Bones..."

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