Page 125 of Traitor

One.

24. Plums

Temper

My fiery Temper, I love you because you see the monster in me and still choose to stand your ground. Unafraid, willing to meet my darkness on your own savage terms.

Sigh. Block.

My fiery Temper, I love you because you drink coffee like it's the only thing keeping the world from falling apart. And if anyone even looks at your cup the wrong way, they're dead to you.

He just can't help himself. And I can’t help myself from reading his shit, either. I'm as stupid as him.

I block the number.

My fiery Temper, I love you because no matter how much you fight me, hate me, burn me alive, you and I both know: there will never be a world where I don't belong to you.

Fuck, he's relentless. It's kind of worrying.

Bones

Three days later, I roll back into Silverpine, exhaustion hanging off me like a second skin. It's been a long fucking week, and I don't even have the time to feel it. The plan for Jinx is moving forward without a hitch — exactly as it should. Years of refining every last detail, running every possible scenario, ensuring no loose ends. It had to be flawless. It had to be undeniable.

For over four years, I told myself I'd let the government handle him, let justice do its thing. Let the state fry him, let them wipe his stain off the world. But the motherfucker just had to stir the shit, had to fight his sentence, had to claw his way back into the realm of the living like he wasn't already marked for death.

Now? Now, I can't take the chance that he'll breathe air for the rest of his life. Even if it's behind bars. That's not justice. That's not enough. That's unacceptable.

I step into the clubhouse, the familiar scent grounding me, but my mind is already ahead, moving, calculating. I find Tank first, because there's only one thing I need to know right now.

"How is she?" I ask, not bothering with greetings.

"Ghost is watching her now," Tank answers, his face serious. "She's been at the office every night, working till the early morning. Barely goes home. Looks exhausted."

Of course she does.

I clench my jaw, a familiar ache settling in my chest. I know how she is. She might have changed, might have sharpened her edges into steel, but the woman she was isn't completely gone.

She never could sleep when she was stressed. And this Jinx shit means stress. It used to drive me crazy. Watching her go days barely functioning on scraps of rest, trying to bury herself in work, in distractions, in anything that could keep her mind from spiraling. Back then, I had a cure. I knew how to force her into sleep, into peace. Tear her down with pleasure, wear her out, fuck her until her body gave out and her mind had no choice but to shut down.

It worked every damn time.

I exhale sharply, shoving the thought out of my head before it has a chance to root itself any deeper. I can't think about that. Not when we are where we are. I need to focus.

I nod at Tank, dismissing him, already halfway out the door.

I need to see her.

I need to check on her with my own two eyes.

Before I can leave, a prospect steps forward, holding out the package I've been waiting for. My pulse kicks up. Perfect timing.

Surprisingly, I don't have to break in or bang on the door for Temper to let me inside the building.

It's open.

The moment I step into the reception area, I spot the reason why.

Ghost is sprawled on the tiny red sofa, looking like a fucking giant in a dollhouse. His arms are crossed over his chest, his long legs stretched out, the picture of casual indifference.

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