Page 127 of Traitor

"Let me take you for a ride on my bike," I say, my voice dropping low, coaxing. Tempting. "You know it always tires you out. You need sleep, Temper."

Her gaze sharpens. Wary. Defiant. "No way am I getting on your bike, Bones."

I sigh. "It wouldn't mean you're giving up something, Temper. I know how much you loved riding. And it'll help you sleep. Without those pills you hate so much. I found a great viewpoint outside of town. It'll help calm those knotted thoughts I bet are storming inside your mind right now."

Silence.

I watch her closely, waiting for the fight, the cold rejection. But instead, her fingers trace the rim of a cup on her desk, her nails clicking lightly against the ceramic. She's considering it.

Then, her voice comes, soft, almost fragile. "You know... I was with the Riders since I turned fifteen. That's when I entered their clubhouse first. I was always around them. At first because I wanted to. And then because I couldn't get away. I spent eight years with them in total." Her throat bobs. "Not once was I given a bike ride. Not even once."

Her eyes lift, locking onto mine. "You gave me one on our first date. Two days after we met." Her voice is so quiet it's almost lost in the hum of the monitors. "Why?"

I exhale slowly, the weight of that memory pressing into my chest. "Because it felt right. It felt like something I'd been waiting for my whole life. When you got on the back of my bike and put your arms around me, it felt like some missing piece of myself finally came home."

She lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. It sounds like breaking glass.

"Those words are so beautiful," she murmurs, shaking her head. "Because when I got behind you on that bike for the first time, it also felt like coming home for me, too."

Then she lifts her gaze, and her voice turns cold. "And in spite of this, you still condemned me the first chance you got. Based on the word of one snake."

The weight of her stare crushes me.

"I don't deserve any justification for what I did, Temper," I say, my voice raw. "But you should know that it wasn't just the club whore's words. Ghost investigated. Confirmed your connection—"

"Oh, I know." Her tone is laced with scorn. "He also asked you to wait, to find out everything—"

"Yes, he did." I cut in before she can go any further. No excuses. No lies. Just the fucking truth. "I was just about to tell you that. I won't deny it. Unfortunately, I got too far inside my own head to think clearly anymore. Fear. Panic. The feeling of betrayal. It overwhelmed me like nothing else before. Because it was connected to you."

I pause, my jaw tightening. "I've looked back a million times. If it were anyone else, I know I would've kept my cool. But it was you. The woman who owned me completely, body and soul."

I shake my head. "I'm not looking for excuses, Temper. They don't exist. There is no real redemption for what I did to you. My fear, my trust issues from what happened to Ghost, my inability to think clearly because it was connected to the only woman I ever loved, the only one with true power over me... those are my failings. Only mine. It's all on me. I'm so fucking sorry. I wish I could turn back time, but I can't. I can't take anything I did back."

I bow my head, a heavy exhale escaping me.

"I hurt you," I whisper. "And I'll never be able to forgive myself for that, no matter what."

I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet her gaze.

"So I know it's fucking hypocritical to ask you to ever forgive what I did. To ever look at me and see beyond the monster I created. I know how fucked up that is."

I swallow hard, my voice breaking apart.

"But I can't stop, Temper. I'm connected to you on a level I never would have imagined. I never thought a woman would ever hold this much power over me. But you do. You fucking do."

She doesn't say anything.

The silence stretches between us, thick but not suffocating. For the first time since I walked back into her life, it's not filled with barbed wire and landmines, ready to tear me apart.

I watch her carefully, committing every detail to memory. The way she tilts her head slightly, lost in thought, her gaze pinned somewhere over my shoulder. The way her fingers twitch like she wants to grab something, or maybe push something away.

I take a risk.

I stand, my movements slow, measured, careful not to break whatever fragile moment this is. This truce, if only for a breath. I hold out my hand to her, palm up, open, an invitation stretched between us like a razor-thin wire.

"Let's go for a ride, beautiful." My voice is steady, but my pulse is anything but. My heart hammers against my ribs like a fucking caged animal, desperate, clawing.

I see it, the war raging behind her eyes. The battle she's fighting against herself, against me, against the past that never really left. She's teetering on the edge of something, balancing between the person she was and the person she's become.

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