Page 6 of Traitor

I dig my nails deeper into my palm, pressing against the pain, forcing the memory back down.

It wasn't home.

It was a goddamn cage. And I was too young, too desperate, too fucking naive to see it.

Six years ago

The first time I saw Jinx, I was seventeen.

He was already patched into the club, one of the top earners, a man with power. I didn't realize back then that power meant ownership.

I'd been standing in the kitchen, laughing with Lucas while I stole a sip of his beer, when Jinx walked in. He leaned against the doorframe, tattooed arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning me like a man picking out his next meal.

"She legal yet?" he asked.

The room went quiet.

Lucas laughed it off, shaking his head. "Not yet."

Jinx smirked, his gaze lingering on me. "Shame."

He simply turned and walked away.

But from that day on, I belonged to him.

Even though I never agreed to it.

Even though I never wanted it.

He watched me. Every fucking day. Every time I laughed, every time I ate, every time I existed. He had his claim on me before I even understood what it meant.

At first, it was subtle. A glance here, a lingering look there. A smirk when I laughed too loud, a knowing tilt of his head when I walked into a room. I thought it was just Jinx being Jinx. One of the older guys, arrogant as hell, the kind of man who collected women like trophies.

But then it got worse.

I'd feel his eyes on me when I was alone, like a phantom touch on the back of my neck. I'd be in the kitchen, in the yard, reading a damn book, and I'd look up and find him leaning against a doorway, arms crossed, watching me like he already owned me.

It didn't matter what I was doing. He was always there.

Then came the gifts.

At first, it was small things. A leather bracelet he put on my wrist himself, wrapping it tight, his fingers brushing against my pulse as he whispered,"Looks better on you."

A locket, old and worn, that he said had belonged to his mother. If only.

Then... my favorite shampoo appeared in the clubhouse bathroom. My brand of cigarettes, even though I only smoked occasionally, showed up on the bar top, always waiting for me. A book I'd mentioned once, sitting on my bed.

I didn't tell him any of these things.

He already knew.

It made my skin crawl.

But the worst part? The others encouraged him.

"You got yourself a shadow, Ely," one of the brothers joked as Jinx pulled me onto his lap at the bar.

I stiffened, my hands curling into fists. "Jinx—"

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