Page 77 of Traitor

"I know you don't want to talk about it, Ely. But we have to. You know I'm bullheaded and dive straight into problems. And I know this is painful for you. Looking at me again. I know I fucked up royally with you."

I lift a hand, already trying to shut this down, but he doesn't let me.

"Please, Ely. You don't have to say anything. Just hear me out. Please."

His voice is raw, wrecked, barely holding together. His eyes — haunted, pleading, desperate. I just nod. Let him talk. Let him pour out every ounce of regret.

It won't change a fucking thing.

He exhales sharply, like he's bracing himself for impact. Like this confession has been clawing its way out of him for a long time.

"I've looked back on that night and the way I reacted every single day for four years," he starts, voice hoarse, heavy. "Analyzed everything. And it all comes down to what happened to Ghost."

He drags a hand through his hair, his throat working as he swallows. "The MC life is brutal, Ely, you know that. But what happened to Ghost? It changed me in ways I didn't even realize."

He sighs, the sound hollow, drained. "He loved a girl. Thought she was everything. She seemed like such a sweet girl, too. And she betrayed him. Sold him out. Sent him away for five years to fight for his life behind bars." His jaw clenches, his grip tightening around his glass. "The man who went inside and the man who came out? Two different people."

I watch him. Expression blank. Unmoved.

Bones keeps going. He can't stop now.

"Ghost was twenty when he went in. Young. Smart. Full of life. He had a future. And prison fucking ruined him. It turned him into a hardened, brutal, cold-blooded machine." His voice lowers, eyes darkening. "I lost my best friend. Even when he came back, I still lost him."

I arch a brow. "So you thought I'd be like that girl?"

His face twists, like he wants to deny it. Like he wants to argue. But then — he doesn't.

"When I found out you had ties to the Riders..." he exhales harshly, shaking his head. "We had already stopped two infiltration attempts. We had three attacks on our own turf. I reacted like an animal." He pauses, jaw locking. "Like a man who refused to let the people he should protect be destroyed again, just like Ghost."

My fingers tap idly against my wine glass, like a countdown to his demise.

"The look in your eyes that night," he continues, voice thick and pained. "When you were strapped to that chair. And then — when I handed you over to that van." He swallows hard. Barely holds it together. "I see it every time I close my eyes, Ely. Every fucking time. Because I should have protected you, too."

Good.

I hope it eats him alive.

"I didn't think they'd do that to you," he breathes out. "I swear to you, I didn't think they'd go that far. I was so sure you were one of them, I didn't stop to fucking think."

He looks at me then, gaze unwavering, face carved from stone.

"What do you need me to do, Ely?" His voice is steady, lethal in its conviction. "Tell me. And I will do it. Anything. To take some of your pain away. To bring you peace."

I hold his stare. Silent. Unmoving.

"I'll think about it." The words slide from my lips, sharp and dismissive.

And then — the oven timer dings. Perfect timing.

I don't give him another second. Another inch. I walk toward the oven while throwing him a small smile. "Let's eat."

He nods, eyes still heavy, still carrying the weight of a man who believes he has something left to fix.

He doesn't. Not anymore.

The table is already set in the dining room. Plates. Cutlery.

"You go ahead and take the salad and garlic bread to the dining room, I'll be right over with the lasagna" I tell him, voice light and pleasant. He follows my order blindly, obediently. Trusting. Stupid.

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