Page 169 of Traitor

I turn my head, raising a brow. "Do you need to scream into the void or something? Because it feels like you're about to rip your own skin off."

He drags in a breath, eyes screwed shut, chest rising and falling like he's battling a war inside himself. Then he mutters, "Just give me a moment, baby."

And then he steps away. Walks right over to a tree and punches it. Hard. Knuckles-first, bone against bark, with everything inside him.

"Don't break your fucking hand! You still have to drive us home!" I yell, exasperated.

He tips his head back, scrubs a now bloody hand down his face, and breathes through his teeth like he's trying to exorcise something clawing at his ribs. Then he turns back to me, looking calm. Too calm.

I narrow my eyes. "You have a smear of blood on your face now, dumbass." Arms crossed, I take a step sideways. "And you're not touching me with that hand."

A laugh escapes him, short and disbelieving. "You're wearing my jacket. I'd be the one who has to clean it."

I arch a brow. "You'd have to clean it even if it was mine."

His lips twitch, and before I can move, he wraps me up in a hug. One arm locking around my waist, the other sliding into my hair, his chin resting on the top of my head. I stiffen for half a second, then sink into it.

"That better not be your bloody hand in my hair, asshole," I grumble, but there's no heat behind it.

"It's not, baby." His voice is a quiet promise.

We stand like that for minutes. Just breathing. Just existing. I didn't realize how much I needed this.

When we finally pull apart, it's slow. Reluctant.

My eyes catch on my hand, and something in my chest tightens. My fingers stretch out in front of me, a ghost of a memory clawing its way up my throat. "He took my ring," I whisper. "The one you gave me. The engagement ring. Yanked it off my finger right before he threw me onto the side of the road."

Bones goes so still, I swear the world holds its breath with him.

I swallow hard. "He used to give me these little trinkets. Old lockets, rusted bracelets. I think they were some kind of sick trophies from his victims. And he wanted to see me wearing them. Who the fuck knows what kind of twisted satisfaction he got from it." I let out a breath, sharp and bitter. "At the time, I just thought he was a cheap asshole. But after he was exposed as a serial, everything started to make sense. It all fell into place."

Bones looks at me, fire burning in his eyes. "I'll give you all the rings you want, Temper. You're here. You're living. And he's nothing but ash. He died choking on his own fucking dick. He lost."

A small smile tugs at my lips, and I swat his chest lightly. "Don't get ahead of yourself, biker cowboy. There are no rings in your future. Or mine."

I pause, my words lingering between us, my own thoughts catching up.

I sigh, looking past him, toward the horizon.

"But...My mind is clearer now." I let the words settle before turning back to him. "When you were always there, following me around, pushing your way into my life, I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe through the anger. It was eating me alive, consuming everything. But after I killed him, it was like...all of it left me in a rush. And suddenly, I could hear my own thoughts again."

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "You have no idea how many times I changed my mind about coming to speak to you."

He's watching me like a man walking toward the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if the ground will hold or if he'll fall.

I nibble on my bottom lip, voice steady. "I think...I think I want to see if there could ever still be something between us."

The breath rips out of his chest. His eyes widen, like he just witnessed the universe crack open.

"Fuck, I can't believe those words just left my mouth!" I drag a hand down my face, exhaling hard, my breath misting in the cold night air.

I straighten, my fingers tightening around the edge of my jacket, the weight of my own words pressing down on me. Bones is looking at me like I'm the last goddamn miracle on Earth, his hands fisted at his sides, his body locked up tight.

"You have to understand, Bones," I whisper, my voice steady despite the inferno raging in my chest. "Even back then, I was hiding. From the truth. From what happened to me. I lived in survival mode. I needed your MC to survive, so that's where I went. I clung to it. I loved being with you, the way you treated me, and that made me forget for a while. The people at the clubhouse, your people, they followed your lead. They accepted me. And that made it easy to love being there."

I shift on my feet, staring into the distance.

"I never thought, after what Jinx did to me, that I'd fall for a biker. That I'd get attached to another club again. But I did. I guess trauma isn't the same for everyone. Even now, I have nothing against bikers or MCs. I know you're not all the same. I could've been raped and tortured by an accountant for all it fucking matters. In the end, it's all about the person. And I learned, somehow, that I have to judge people as they come."

---