Page 92 of Traitor

"Here's exactly how you're going to expect me..."

The afternoon sun spills golden light across my living room, illuminating the quiet as I sip my third coffee of the day and watch a rerun of Criminal Minds. The house is still, the silence comforting, a rare moment where my head isn't filled with the ghosts of my past or the weight of vengeance.

My plans for tonight are already settled — Griffin, Ria, the club one town over, the kind of night where I let my body remember what it's like to be alive. No hesitation, no thinking, just music, sweat, and the promise of something intoxicating. Something that isn'thim.

The doorbell rings. My stomach clenches, my fingers tightening around the coffee mug. I already know it's not Griffin or Ria. It's too early.

I stand, moving slowly, and look through the peephole.

I freeze.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I open the door cautiously, expecting a slap across the face for all the shit I've pulled these last few weeks. Instead, my eardrums are immediately assaulted.

"Elyna! My beautiful girl!"

Mama's voice shakes the goddamn walls, and before I can even brace for impact, she crushes me into a hug that nearly cracks my ribs.

I grunt, wheezing through the vice grip of her arms. "It's Temperance now, actually."

She pulls back just enough to beam at me, her face radiating warmth like a goddamn furnace. "That's such a beautiful name, sweetheart! You chose well!"

I barely have time to process her unbreakable cheerfulness before another pair of arms latch onto me like a lifeline.

This time, it's desperate, clinging, trembling.

"I fucking missed you so much."

Layla's voice is wrecked, thick with the kind of grief that cuts straight into my chest. She's crying.

She shakes against me, her sobs muffled as she buries her face in my shoulder. "I was home that night," she chokes out, voice cracking. "Sleeping. Sleeping, of all things! I didn't even know. By the time I woke up, it was too late. They wouldn't tell me anything. Apparently, if you don't have a dick, you don't get to know club business! But you weren't club business. You were my friend."

My breath catches. My throat tightens.

Fuck.

"I missed you too, hellcat."

The words come out broken, fractured, because I hadn't let myself think about this — about what losing Layla had done to me, about how I had locked it all away because survival didn't leave room for mourning.

But now? Now it's crashing down.

We stand there, clutching onto each other, grieving the years lost between us.

A warm hand settles on my shoulder, grounding me. Mama.

"Come on, girls," she murmurs, voice gentle but firm. "No need to cry in the doorway. Let's drink something and catch up."

I nod, blinking away the moisture gathering at the corners of my eyes. I turn to Layla, gripping her shoulders, staring straight into her big, bright eyes.

"I am so happy you're here."

She sniffs, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. "I'm so happy, too." She laughs weakly, shaking her head. "I just got in today, actually. Joker came first with the brothers, but I had stuff to wrap up in Driftwood. I ended up arriving at the same time as Mama and Pops."

I quirk a brow at Mama as we start toward the kitchen. "Pops is here, too? What does he think about all this, moving the club here?"

She smirks and waves a dismissive hand. "He's given up on stressing over the stupid stuff his Einstein of a son does. He does approve of the muffinhead chasing after you, though. Personally, I'm smarter. I'm staying the hell out of it. This mess is between you and the rotten fruit of my old man's loins."

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