Page 136 of Traitor

"Tank?" Her voice tightens. "Why would I tell Tank?"

I smirk. Gotcha.

"He's the one who'll be watching you."

She freezes.

It's only for a second, but I catch it. The subtle, nearly imperceptible shift in her demeanor. The sharp inhale. The way her fingers tighten ever so slightly against the counter.

Then — just like that — she snaps back into place.

She takes a deep breath, grabs a cup from behind the counter, and pushes it toward me with a saccharine smile.

"Your coffee. You can go now."

I narrow my eyes at her, take the cup, and walk out.

I dump it into the first trash can I pass.

Never. Fucking. Again.

Temper

Iscan the people gathered in my backyard, my gaze drifting from one familiar face to the next. The scent of grilled meat lingers in the crisp evening air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of people I like.Or at least people I'd like to know better.My eyes land on him — Ghost.

There's something about him that's always set him apart from the others. He was quiet, calculating, distant. A man who spoke in actions rather than words. Back then, I never really noticed him. Not beyond the occasional exchange when he'd order a beer at the clubhouse bar. But now, standing here, remembering everything Tank told me, I realize that out of all the men I once called family, he was the only one who actually came after me.

I don't understandwhy.

So I move.

He is sitting on the worn wooden bench near the fire pit, a beer in his hand, his posture loose but not careless. The way he watches the world makes it clear — he's always aware. Always listening.

I approach, trying to act casual. "Hey." My voice is smooth, but there's an edge of curiosity I can't hide. "How are you enjoying the day?"

One corner of his mouth tugs up — just barely. "What do you want to know, Temperance?"

I blink. Not even going to pretend, huh?

"Am I that obvious?" I tilt my head, watching him closely.

His smirk deepens, just a little. "Everyone is obvious to me these days."

I huff out a small laugh, shaking my head. Then, my voice lowers, the weight of my thoughts making it feel small. "Tank told me you came after me." I shift, crossing my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. "That you wanted to get me out of the Riders' clubhouse. I guess... I don't understand why." I glance at him, searching for something in his face. "We didn't know each other well. We barely spoke. And almost every time we did talk, it was you asking me for another round of beer at the bar."

Ghost lounges back against the bench, sighing a little as he tips his head back and studies the sky. The firelight flickers against his face, casting shadows along the sharp lines of his features. Then, finally, he turns his eyes to me, something grim lurking behind them.

"Bones..." He pauses, exhales through his nose. "He's been my best friend since we were four years old." His voice is measured, even, but there's a heaviness beneath it.

"My family moved into the house next to his. When I was ten, both of my parents were killed by a drunk driver. I was left with no one. No grandparents. No aunts. No uncles. My parents were both only children. That meant foster care." He stops, his jaw flexing, but when he speaks again, his voice is calm. Like he's had years to make peace with it.

"That's when Mama and Pops stepped up," he continues. "But not before Bones threw a goddamn fit." He lets out a small, forced, dry chuckle, shaking his head at the memory.

"They were going to take me in anyway, but neither Bones nor I knew that yet. And he... well, he lost his shit. I'll never forget it. He was stomping his feet, screaming, crying — snot everywhere — and he dragged me in front of his parents, gripping my wrist so damn hard I thought he was going to break it. And then he declared— not asked,declared— that I was his real brother and that I wasn't going anywhere. No matter what they said."

He shakes his head again, this time with something softer in his expression. "And if they weren't going to take me in?Hewas leaving with me."

I don't realize I'm holding my breath until he exhales sharply, with a barely amused smile. "Little bastard even packed a suitcase. You know what he packed?" He doesn't wait for me to answer. "Two pairs of underwear, chocolate, and toy bikes. That's it. He was ready to take on the world with me."

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