Page 82 of Traitor

I walk to him, dragging my nails down his abs with slow, deliberate movements. He shudders under my touch.

"You know," I murmur, "I lived years in the Riders' clubhouse. Jinx's personal toy. But those years? They were nothing compared to the four days that followed when you sent me back to him."

His muscles coil like a loaded gun.

"Jinx couldn't even get it up to fucking rape me," I laugh softly, mockingly. "Apparently,youbroke him. The fact that I let you touch me ruined him. At least you were good for that one fucking thing."

Bones doesn't blink. Doesn't twitch a muscle.

"But the rest?" I whisper, leaning in closer. "He still had his rituals. The ones the FBI matched to his other victims." I smile, bright, wicked. "That's why my wounds made sense to them."

His breathing is uneven now. I let the words sink in. Let him picture it.

"Do it, Temper," he finally says, quiet, solemn. "Take all your pain and anger out on me."

He looks me straight in the eyes. Unwavering.

"If the brothers come knocking, just tell them one word —fury. They'll understand. They'll leave."

I pause. Interesting.

Not that it matters. I had plans for them anyway. But still... howthoughtful.

I smile sweetly. "So considerate, Kane."

Then, I turn my back on him, scanning my metal table lined with tools.

"It all started with a basement interrogation. We've got that covered. Time for the mark," I murmur, trailing my fingers over my selections.

Then I pick it up. The wireless tattoo gun. I turn, flicking it on. The buzzing fills the air.

Bones watches, his expression unreadable.

"You see, Kane," I say, stepping closer, climbing onto the chair beside him to reach his arm. "I'm no tattoo artist. Not like Sketch. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing with this thing," I say, shaking the tattoo gun around a little. "Unfortunately, your arms are already covered in tattoos but I am determined to see what I can create over them!"

I drag the machine across his perfectly inked skin, ruining the mythology he carefully curated.

"I promise I'll give it my best shot!"

Bones

She dives in like she's on a mission from the gods of vengeance themselves. Focused. Deadly. No hesitation. No mercy.

I barely suck in a breath before the pain rips through me like wildfire. A thousand burning needles, digging straight through flesh, straight through muscle, tearing their way down to bone.

Fuck.

She has no fucking idea what she's doing with that thing. None. The needle digs too deep, scrapes in jagged, uneven lines, slicing through my ink.

There won't be a new tattoo when she's done. Just an ugly, jagged scar. Just a wound carrying a piece of her pain with it.

I don't care.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus on the buzzing of the machine. Let it drown out everything else. The fire in my arm. The raw edge of her fury. The weight of her breath as she leans over me, destroying me one inch at a time.

The pain doesn't just stay in my arm. It travels. Straight to my spine. Up my neck. Embeds itself in the back of my skull like a fucking bullet.

She needs this.

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