Page 121 of Traitor

The memory claws at me, fresh pain. "Did Bones know what you were doing?" I force myself to hold his gaze. "Because we both know Bones didn't come to save me, didn't even check on me in the hospital. He handed me right to my tormentor. So if you and Ghost had some covert plan, how the hell does that factor in?"

Tank exhales, the words cracking out like broken glass. "He sent me to make sure Ghost wouldn't do anything stupid... or get himself killed. To have his back. But that's bullshit because, if there's anyone on earth who wouldn't be caught dead spying, it's Ghost." He waves a frustrated hand through the air.

"Why would Ghost come after me, though?" My voice is ice, eyes narrowed. "He said nothing the night I was dragged down to that basement. Didn't even look at me."

Tank shrugs, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but here. "I don't know the details, T. Just that Ghost didn't believe Tisha's story. Not entirely. He didn't stop digging for answers. And he didn't agree with Bones... hestronglydidn't agree. So strongly that he stopped talking to everyone after that. For months, he barely interacted, just did the bare minimum. It wasn't that different from before, because Ghost always kept to himself. But at least back then, he talked to Bones. Something... died between those two that night. They never got back to how they were."

I feel something tighten in my chest, a swirl of confusion and bitter regret. "If you didn't agree, if Ghost didn't agree, then why the hell didn't any of you speak up? You all just followed orders, like mindless puppets?"

Tank's shoulders slump, shame etched into every line of his face. "We never doubted Bones before, T. We did what he said, and everything always worked out. All his decisions were good for the club. Good for us. Until that night. That night broke the illusion, but it was too late. Until then, there was always this unspoken rule that if Bones said something, it was right. That he could do no wrong. That we always had to follow the orders of our President without protest."

He exhales a bitter laugh. "Obviously, that was bullshit."

His voice turns rough, like he's swallowing glass. "No man makes the right call every time. And blindly following someone is stupid. We see that now. It's why we changed the club rules."

Before I can demand more, the front door swings open. No courtesy knock. No hesitation. Of course not. I know who it is. The only asshole around who has the audacity to just enter my home unannounced.

Bones.

I inhale slowly, trying to keep from using the gun under my table on him. "Go, Tank. I need to have a word with your asshole-in-chief."

Tank looks at me, then at Bones, then trudges toward the door. "I'll see you around, T."

He passes Bones, but he doesn't even glance at him. All his attention is fixed on me.

He strides my way, face burning with some kind of hungry urgency, like he's about to wrap me up in his arms.

I stand abruptly, arm raised, stopping him cold. "Don't."

He halts, panting, eyes feral as they roam over me, like he's checking for wounds or new scars.

His fists are clenched at his sides, his chest rising and falling as if he's restraining himself from grabbing me, shaking me, pulling me in like he has any right. He doesn't.

He lost that the night he threw me to the wolves. But apparently, it doesn't stop him from trying.

His voice is a low, lethal growl, his entire body coiled tight. "What the fuck did Luca Romano want? Are you okay? Did he threaten you? Touch you? Tell me everything he said so I know if his death is swift or if I have to fucking torture him before I end his life."

I raise a brow, unimpressed. "He didn't touch me. Or threaten me... directly." I tilt my head, thinking back. "I mean, you know him. He's probably threatening something or someone even when he's brushing his teeth. But he did imply that your stupid ass killed the deal with them because of me and that I should make you reconsider." I fold my arms, keeping my voice calm and detached, just to piss him off. "So tell me, Bones. Why the hell did you kill the deal, knowing they'd be angry?"

He rolls his neck, muscles flexing, and that goddamn TRAITOR tattoo stretches across his throat like a brand from hell.

I hate that I notice it.

I hate that it lingers in my mind, always there in the background, an afterthought I can't shake.

He exhales sharply, like he's gearing up for a fight. "I couldn't stand the thought of you thinking that the deal was more important than you, Temper. And they're not angry. I know that for a fact. They're not happy either, but definitely not angry. I made sure of it when I discussed it with Arcangelo. I wouldn't have made this decision if there was any chance of blowback, especially on you. This... this is Luca's game." His jaw tightens. "And I'm going to make him fucking regret ever coming to you."

I sigh. "Fine. Just... fix it. I don't really care about the deal you have with them. Not now. It's four years too late. Have the deal, don't have the deal, it doesn't matter to me." I tilt my head. "Actually, I'd prefer you get it back. That will guarantee that Luca Romano never bothers me again. That smug Italian prick deserves a kick in the nuts. If I'd been sure his brother wouldn't come for me, I would've just shot him."

Bones gives me that infuriating, knowing smirk. "With the gun under your kitchen table?"

I blink. My blood runs cold for half a second before my hackles rise. "How do you know about that?"

He doesn't answer. Just keeps watching me with that smug,'I know everything about you'look that makes me want to reach for said gun right fucking now.

I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. "You've become really creepy over the years, you know that? Actually, don't answer. I don't care. But since you're here, I do have a request for you. I want you to tell me the plan. About Jinx. I want to know. It's been driving me crazy."

His answer is immediate, final. "No."

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