Chapter Nineteen
ELIZABETH
Sin emerges from his office like a storm rolling in. He’s silent, powerful, inevitable. His mismatched eyes find me immediately, and the weight of his gaze makes my stomach drop. There’s no warmth there now, none of the heat I’ve grown accustomed to. Just cold assessment.
This is Sin, the president.
Not Sin, the man who kissed me in the desert.
Not Sin, who fucked me on a bed of literal gold.
He knows something is up, and he means business.
“What’s going on here, then?” His voice cuts through the tension, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the scene in front of him. Ghost’s hand is still firm around my arm. The brothers are scattered throughout the room, all conversations stopped, all eyes watching.
My pulse is hammering so hard in my throat I feel like my heart is going to explode from fear. Every instinct screams at me to run, but there’s nowhere to go.
I’m caught, exposed, and the walls are closing in.
Ghost’s jaw works for a moment before he speaks, “My cameras caught her snooping where she shouldn’t be. She used my code, snuck into my den. She’s digging into shit we don’t want dug up, Pres.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Sin’s expression morphs, though I can’t tell what the emotion is behind it. Something flickers in those impossible eyes, disappointment, maybe, or calculation. He studies me for what feels like an eternity, and I can’t look away.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think past the roaring in my damn ears.
“You did what?” The words are low, but they roll through the room like thunder.
His tone doesn’t rise—he doesn’t need it to.
Power radiates off him in waves. “You went into Ghost’s den?
You used a club code? You broke into a brother’s private space?
” He stands taller, shoulders squared, the veins in his forearms flexing as he drags a hand down his face.
“You’ve got some goddamn nerve, Elizabeth.
” The way he says my name is pure venom.
He stalks closer, the scrape of his boots on the floor echoing in the tense silence.
“You think this is a fucking game? That the rules here don’t apply to you because I let you into my bed?
” His jaw ticks, fury simmering just beneath the surface.
“You’ve embarrassed me. You’ve made me look like a damn fool in front of my brothers. ”
His gaze flicks to Ghost and Nitro, then back to me, sharp as broken glass. “You’ve disrespected my patch, my position, and every fucking man in this club. You don’t get to hide behind a pretty face while you stab us in the goddamn back.”
The silence that follows is suffocating.
His mismatched eyes burn into mine, equal parts rage and disappointment, and for the first time, I see just how dangerous Sin really is when he’s betrayed.
“You had my trust,” he says, quieter now, but the weight of it hits harder than his anger.
“And you pissed all over it… Chapel.” The single word at the end is absolute authority.
His head jerks toward Nitro, who’s already pushing himself up from the couch.
“Now!” The booming tone sends a shudder through me, and it’s not the pleasurable kind that he normally elicits from me.
My legs threaten to give out as Ghost tugs me forward.
This is it.
This is how I die.
I’m going to disappear into that room, and no one will ever know what happened to me.
Is this what happened to my brother?
The thought of my brother steadies me, even as terror claws up my spine. Whatever happens next, I came here for him. To find the truth. If I’m going down, at least I’ll know I tried.
Sin leads the way through the clubhouse, his stride measured and controlled.
I’m sandwiched between him and Ghost, with Nitro bringing up the rear.
The brothers we pass don’t say anything, but I feel their stares burning into my back.
Judging me. Waiting to see what their president will do with the traitor in their midst.
The Chapel doors are heavy oak, scarred and aged.
Sin pushes them open, and they swing inward with an ominous creak that makes my skin prickle.
The room beyond is all dark wooden walls with a muted undertone, dim lighting that throws soft shadows across everything, and leather upholstery that gleams under the low glow.
In the center sits their converted poker table, it’s a work of art, the kind of table that makes you want to sit back and pour a drink while the world burns outside.
But I know better. This isn’t a place for unwinding.
This is where they make their decisions, where they plan their moves, where they decide who lives and who dies.
Leather chairs surround the table, each one worn smooth from years of use, and for a second, I can almost see the ghosts of every meeting that’s happened here—every deal, every betrayal.
The door closes behind us with a finality that echoes in my bones.
Sin takes his place at the head of the table, the president’s chair. Even sitting, he radiates power, and those heterochromatic eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes me want to look away.
But I don’t.
I can’t show weakness now.
“Sit.” He gestures to the chair across from him.
I lower myself into it, my legs grateful for the support. Ghost and Nitro flank me on either side, caging me in. My hands shake in my lap, so I curl them into fists, nails biting into my palms. The pain somehow helps me focus.
“Ghost,” Sin says, his tone conversational but edged with steel. “Tell me exactly what you found.”
Ghost pulls out his phone, and my stomach lurches as he swipes through the security footage.
“This was from yesterday. While we were out on the toy run. While Elizabeth had her migraine.” He turns the screen so Sin and Nitro can view the footage.
“She waited until we were all gone, then used the code she memorized to get into my den.”
I watch their faces as they view my betrayal in high definition. I’m punching in the code. Slipping inside. Riffling through files. Trying to access the computer.
Looking for anything on Marcus Delaney.
Nitro explodes first. “Fuck!” His fist slams down on the table, making me flinch.
“I told you bringing her here was a bad fucking idea. I said this would happen.” He jumps to his feet, pacing like a caged animal.
“I fucking told you, Pres! But nooo, you wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, wanted to show her we’re not the bad guys. Well, look how that’s turned out.”
The words hit like physical blows. My chest constricts, making it hard to breathe. But underneath the fear, anger starts to kindle. Hot and bright and dangerous.
“So, there is more to the story?” The words burst out before I can stop them.
“You do have something to hide?” Three sets of eyes snap to me.
“Because that’s what this looks like.” My voice gains strength even as my hands tremble.
“You drag me in here, lock the doors, and lose your damn minds over me looking for information. If you’ve got nothing to hide, then why the fuck does it matter? ”
Sin leans back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath his weight.
“There you go being judgmental again, wildcat.” His voice is quiet, but it cuts deeper than Nitro’s rage.
“Before you even know the truth. You’d think by now you’d understand that with us, there are two sides to every fucking story.
” The disappointment in his tone slices through my defenses.
Because he’s right.
I’ve been so focused on finding evidence against them that I never stopped to consider they might be protecting something else entirely.
“Then tell me the truth,” I challenge, meeting his gaze head-on. “If there are two sides, show me yours.”
“Why the hell were you looking into Marcus Delaney, Elizabeth?” Ghost’s question cuts through the tension. “His name was in your search history on my computer. And you admitted it. What is it about our prospect that’s got you rattled?”
My mind races. Do I lie? Do I deflect? Or do I give them just enough truth to satisfy their suspicion without revealing everything?
“Because his story just doesn’t add up,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“I’m an investigative journalist. That’s what I do…
I find the stories that don’t make sense, and I dig until they do.
Marcus Delaney’s death was ruled a motorcycle accident, but when I started researching this club, his name kept coming up.
A prospect who died under suspicious circumstances right before he was supposed to be patched in.
But there was no record of a motorcycle accident that day.
There was no autopsy report.” I lean forward.
“The pieces don’t fit. And when pieces don’t fit, there’s usually a reason why? ”
“Jesus Christ,” Nitro mutters, still pacing. “This is exactly what we didn’t need.”
“Why do you care so much about some dead prospect?” Sin’s eyes narrow, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to solve. “What’s your angle here, Elizabeth?”
I have to be careful.
So fucking careful.
“Because if something happened to him that the club covered up, that’s the story.
That’s what people want to know about, not just the parties and the brotherhood and the bikes.
They want to know what really goes on behind these closed doors.
And a suspicious death? That’s the kind of thing that makes or breaks a feature piece. ”
It’s not entirely a lie.
But it’s not the whole truth either.
Sin and Ghost exchange a look. Some silent communication passes between them, and I hold my breath, waiting.
But Nitro explodes again. “Pres, you can’t tell her. She’ll print it, and everything we’ve worked for, everything Marcus died for, will be for nothing.”
My world stops.
Everything Marcus died for.
Not how Marcus died.
The distinction crashes over me like ice water. They know. They know something about my brother I don’t.