Page 68 of Traitor

"Yeah," I say, completely unfazed. "I'll cover the costs myself. Won't take from the brothers. And no one is being forced to follow me. Who wants to come, comes. Who wants to stay, stays."

Tank groans. "Fuck me."

"I'll go back tomorrow and present it in Church," I continue, ignoring him. "Keep your mouth shut until then. I still need to survey the area for a possible clubhouse and everything we'll need." I roll my shoulder, testing Tank's stitch job, before locking eyes with him. "Ely is here. So my life is here now. I know we live by 'club always comes first,' but I can't leave her, never again. The brothers will always have my loyalty and trust. But Ely? She has that, plus everything that I am."

Tank sits back, staring at me with narrowed eyes, like he’s just waiting for me to crack.

Eventually, he sighs, presses a bandage over my wound, and mutters, "Sometimes, I dream about that night. Holding my hand over Ely's mouth while she was in that chair. Only in my nightmare, I'm in her place. I try to scream, but I can't move. Can't make a sound. I should have said something that night. I should have pulled you aside. But I told myself a brother doesn't question his Prez. A brother follows orders."

I swallow hard, a heavy burden settling in my chest. Guilt. Regret. The kind that never leaves.

"Yeah," I murmur. "That should maybe change, too."

He looks at me, surprised. I get it. I never would have admitted this before. Never would have even thought it.

"I know as Prez I hold a lot of power," I continue. "But what's the point of brotherhood if none of you can punch me in the face when I lose my fucking mind?"

Tank snorts, shaking his head. "You're still a stubborn, stupid bastard, you know that?"

I smirk. "Yeah."

I exhale, letting the pain settle deep, letting the weight of it drive home one final truth: I'm going to fix this.

I don't give a fuck what it costs.

Morning comes too fast, dragging me back into the fight before I'm even fully awake.

I climb the steps to Ely's porch, forcing myself to knock this time. A small improvement. Barely. A show of restraint that feels foreign, unnatural, but necessary.

The door swings open a few moments later, and fuck me, I'm not prepared.

Ely stands there, dressed in a navy power suit that fits her like a second skin, every inch of her confidence and strength wrapped up in sharp lines and ruthless precision. She looks like she owns the world, like she's about to walk into a boardroom and tear apart anyone who gets in her way.

And me? I'm standing here in jeans, my leather cut and a T-shirt that says something stupid, holding a fucking coffee like an idiot.

My brain malfunctions. My mouth forgets how to form words.

"No, Bones." Her voice cuts through the morning air, hard and unyielding. "Whatever you're here for, the answer is a big, fat, fucking no."

I blink. Scramble. Like a caveman who has no ability for normal human conversation, I just hold up the coffee in my hand like some kind of peace offering.

"Coffee," I grunt. Absolute dumbass.

She scowls, her eyes burning with fire, rage, and not even a hint of hesitation.

"I don't want your coffee," she snaps, voice like a whip. "I have my own. Now go away."

She moves to slam the door in my face, but instinct kicks in before logic, and I block it. Stupidly. With the same hand holding the fucking coffee.

The scalding liquid spills down my arm, burning like a bitch. I snarl out a curse, but recover fast. She's about to shut me out, and I'm not fucking done yet.

"I wanted to tell you," I grind out, voice rough with the pain I refuse to acknowledge, "that I'll be gone for a few days. Need to handle shit in Driftwood. But I'll be back by Saturday. Don't think of running, Ely. I'll know, and I promise you, I will follow." I hold her gaze. Steady, unflinching, ready to drive the point home. "I just got a chance to look at your face again. I'm not giving that up."

Ely stares at me like I'm too big of an idiot to function. Like I'm a lost cause she doesn't have the patience to deal with. And then, her voice drops. Cold and lethal.

"Look really good into my eyes, Bones." She steps forward, inches from me, her presence electric, deadly. "This town? It's my home. I built a life here. A good life. A business. Friends. I ran last time because I was beaten down, tired and just fucking broken." Her lips curl into an almost cruel, almost victorious smirk.

"This time?" She tilts her chin up, her glare burning through me. "I'm prepared to fight."

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