Page 53 of Traitor

I sent her straight to a serial killer.

I still can't wrap my head around it. The fucker has been murdering women for over a decade. Thirty-seven confirmed victims.Thirty-seven.

And I put her in his hands.

When our own personal fed told me, I blacked the fuck out. Came to hours later, my office in ruins — man-sized holes in the walls, shattered furniture, whiskey glass shards embedded in the wood.

Tank, Joker, Ghost, and Reaper stood around me, out of breath, bruised to shit.

I must've gone at them like a wild fucking animal. And they let me.

Because they know.

They know I need to burn for this.

The need to see Ely, to fix this, is like an itch under my skin that won't go away. A sickness that won't pass. I need to explain, need to talk to her, need to fucking beg if that's what it takes.

Where do I fucking begin?

The FBI keeps ripping through our clubhouse, acting like they've got a shot in hell at finding something, and I barely register it. I just stare, waiting for this shitstorm to be over so I can do what I should've done long before now.Go to her.

Ghost appears out of thin fucking air and his voice cuts through my thoughts, low and calm. "The Riders are done. Likedonedone. Not just Jinx. Their whole operation was blown wide open by the feds. Drugs and guns were bad enough, but they found proof of human trafficking."

My stomach turns to lead.

I knew the Riders were scum. Knew they played dirty. Buthuman trafficking?Stupid fuckers.

My fists clench. Ely was in that world. Stuck there. Suffering. How the fuck did I not see it? How the fuck did I let myself believe she was one of them?

Ghost shifts beside me, his voice dropping. "They're never getting out, man."

I exhale sharply, shaking my head, still staring straight ahead. "Good."

I need to get these feds out of my fucking clubhouse.

And then?

I'm getting on my bike, driving to Ely, and praying to whatever god is out there that she doesn't slam the door in my face.

From the corner of my eye I see an FBI agent striding toward us with an entire fucking crew of agents behind him. Tall, clean-cut, looking like he gets off on this shit. He pulls out a pair of handcuffs and looks briefly at our patches.

"Bones. Ghost," he says, all business. "You and your men are under arrest."

I smirk, shaking my head. "What for? You won't find anything."

The agent shrugs. Smug as fuck. "We'll see about that. The rest of your MC is being read their rights by my colleagues right now. You're all being detained for seventy-two hours, pending investigation and interrogation."

I roll my shoulders, barely containing my irritation. Seventy-two hours. Bad enough. But the fact that today's Thursday? That means we're stuck in jail the entire fucking weekend. Just great.

Ghost exhales beside me. I can feel the anger radiating off him, but he stays silent.

I don't bother struggling as they slap the cuffs on me. I know none of my brothers will talk. We've all been through worse.

But as they march us out, the rage builds inside me. Not at Ely.

At myself.

She's getting her revenge, and fuck if she doesn't deserve it.

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