Page 64 of Traitor

I see it in his eyes. The regret. The torment. But it's not enough.

It will never be enough. Rage like never before tears through me.

Before I know it, my finger squeezes the trigger.

A gunshot rips through the room. Loud. Deafening. Final.

Bones grunts, his body jerking back, his shoulder blooming red as the bullet tears through muscle. I freeze.

He exhales sharply, staggering but catching himself, his hand pressing against the wound. Blood spills between his fingers, dripping onto the floor.

I expect him to rage. To curse, to break something, to show me his wrath.

But he doesn't. He just stands there, eyes dark, wild, and so fucking unbreakable. His lips curl into something almost amused. Almost proud.

He wipes a stray drop of blood from his lower lip, still holding his shoulder. "That all you got, baby? Give me more, I can take it."

A tremor rolls through me, my chest heaving. I want to scream. I want to claw him out of my life, out of my soul, out of each of my rotten memories.

But he's here. And he won't stop.

He takes a shaky breath, gives me a knowing look, then nods. "I'll leave you alone."

I blink. What?

His gaze holds mine. Smoldering. Dangerous.

"For tonight."

I feel the words like a tornado inside my chest.For tonight.

Because he's not backing down. Heneverfucking backs down.

"You don't get to do this," I hiss, voice shaking. "You don't get to chase me down and throw your heart at my feet like I should give a shit."

"I do," he says, voice like a promise, like a curse. "And I will."

I lift my chin, eyes burning into his. "You'll regret ever coming after me, Bones."

His smirk deepens, dark and knowing. "Maybe. But I'd rather regret chasing you than spend another second regretting letting you go."

I hate him.

I hate that part of me still feels something for his stupid face. A tiny part, but it's still too much!

My jaw tightens. "You have a club to run. Get your fucking mind straight, because I will never move back to the place where I lived my worst nightmare. And I'll never forgive you. Or your fucking brothers!"

He nods, slow and calculated, like he's letting me have this moment. Like he's letting me think I've won.

But the way he looks at me, wrecked and determined and so relentless, tells me everything I need to know.

He rises slowly from the bedroom floor, his movement measured, like every muscle in his body is resisting the act of leaving. Like leaving me is its own kind of pain.

I grip the gun harder, tracking his ascent, my breath locked tight in my chest. The bastard towers over me again. The way he always did. Commanding, dangerous, all-consuming.

His gaze flickers down, and I brace for whatever bullshit he's about to say. But then he stops. His eyes fix on my neck.

A sharp breath rips through him, like someone just shoved a blade between his ribs.

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