Page 86 of Traitor

She went through this. Alone.

No one to hold her when her body gave out. No one to whisper in her ear that she was stronger than this. No one to tell her she was worth saving.

I grit my teeth, sucking in a ragged breath. I wish I could kiss every one of her scars. Tell her how fucking beautiful she is. How she isn't just survivor or victim. She's a goddamn warrior.

My fiery Temper.

I would hold her. Never let go.

If she'd only let me.

Temper

The knock comes out of nowhere. Short and determined.

I have a feeling I already know who it is before I even reach the door. And when I pull it open, I'm exactly right.

Ghost.

He stands there, shoulders broad, body coiled tight, a predator wrapped in quiet menace, waiting for the signal to strike. His voice, when he speaks, is soft — too soft for a man like him, too gentle for someone who carries death on his hands so easily.

"Hello, Ely."

The name grates against my skin, a wound ripped open anew.

I meet his eyes, see the shadow lurking beneath the calm, the tension rippling just beneath the surface, the restraint he's barely keeping leashed. Ready to pounce. Ready to kill.

I don't waste time with pleasantries.

"Fury."

One word. The only word that matters.

His expression shifts — a flicker of surprise, barely there, gone before it can settle. But he doesn't turn around, doesn't step away. Of course, he doesn't.

He nods once, slowly, his head dipping like he's just been given orders. "I understand," he murmurs. And then, as if the word wasn't already the end of the conversation, as if he has the right to demand more, he adds, "Can we talk, Ely?"

My fingers tighten on the edge of the door, nails digging into the wood. Irritation boils hot beneath my skin, simmering at the edge of my control.

"I'd rather not." My tone is flat, empty, laced with absolute indifference.

He doesn't flinch, doesn't move a step.

"I'm busy," I continue, flicking my gaze past his shoulder like I have better things to do. Because I do. I really fucking do. "And my name isn't Ely. Not anymore. It's Temperance."

I watch the shift in his stance, the way his fingers twitch, the way his mouth parts just slightly, like he's about to say something — something I don't want to hear.

I don't give him the chance.

I slam the door in his face.

I stand there for a moment, listening to the silence beyond the door, waiting to hear if he'll knock again, if he'll force the conversation I already ended. He doesn't.

Good. Because I don't have time for his shit.

Not now. Not ever.

One more day.

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