3. Snake
Ely
Two days ago
T he clubhouse hums with life around me, the loud music mixing with the sound of laughter and low conversation. In the past eight months this place has become my home, my safety. All because of Bones.
I should feel at peace.
But something gnaws at the edges of my mind, something I can't quite shake.
I twist the ring on my finger, the one Bones gave me when he claimed me as his Ol' Lady. It's simple, unassuming, exactly my style. And it means everything. It's a promise that I belong to him in every sense of the word. I'm not just his Ol' Lady, I'm also his future wife. The cut means more to him, but the ring means everything to me. And he knew I'd need it.
He is mine. My Ol’ Man, my future husband.
He loves me. I know he does. I see it in the way his eyes soften when I walk into a room, the way his touch lingers, the way he always pulls me close even when he's pissed off at the world.
He knows me. He trusts me.
And still...
I should have told him.
I exhale slowly, watching him from across the room. He stands near the back, deep in conversation with Ghost, the club’s VP. His face is unreadable, his broad shoulders tense. I know that look. Club business. Something is brewing, something that demands his attention. But even now, every few moments, his gaze flickers to me.
I smile, tracing the rim of my glass. He always makes sure I'm okay, always checks in, even when he doesn't realize he's doing it.
But he doesn't know.
He doesn't know how the Riders threw me away, how they let Jinx do whatever he wanted to me, how Lucas turned his back when I begged for help.
He doesn't know how I used to wake up to Jinx standing over me, watching me while I slept, smiling like he owned me.
He doesn't know how many times I thought about running before I actually did. How many times I convinced myself it wasn't worth it. That I wasn't worth it.
My stomach churns, nausea creeping up my throat.
I can't tell him. Not now.
I know I'll have to one day.
One day, he'll ask something, and I won't be able to keep it buried any longer. But not tonight. Not yet.
Because what if he looks at me differently afterward?
What if he sees what they did to me, what I let happen, and decides I'm unworthy of this?
Of him?
The idea is unbearable. Bones is the only man who has ever made me feel whole. He looks at me like I matter, like I'm more than just something to be used, something to be taken and discarded. He treats me like I'm his equal, like I'm precious.
But if he knew?
If he knew the truth, the whole truth?
Would he still want me?
Or would he start seeing me the way I see myself? Dirty, broken, ruined?
I tighten my grip on the glass, my pulse hammering.
I should tell him. I should be honest. But I want to be selfish.
Just for a little while longer.
I want to keep these moments. His arms around me, his lips on my skin, the way he pulls me into his bed like I always belonged there, the way he whispers my name like it's something sacred.
I don't want to see his love turn into pity.
I don't want to see disgust.
I don't want to see the moment he realizes I'm not the kind of woman a man like him should want.
I glance toward him again, my heart swelling when I meet his gaze. The tension in his shoulders eases just slightly, and he tips his chin at me, a silent question.
‘You good, baby?’
I nod, offering him a small smile.
He smiles back.
I love him.
Tisha slides onto a barstool, a slow, knowing smirk curling her lips.
I don't like her.
Not because she's a club girl. I knew what that meant when I started working here. Not because she's flirty, bold, and shameless. That's expected.
It's the way she looks at me.
Like she's waiting for something to break.
She leans forward, her nails tapping against the bar. "You look real comfortable here, Elyna."
I keep my expression neutral. "This is my home."
Her smirk widens. "Yeah? Were the Crimson Riders your home, too?"
The rag in my hand stills.
My blood turns to ice.
She knows. How?
Her eyes gleam with satisfaction. She tilts her head, watching me closely.
"I know you," she murmurs. "I was a club girl for the Riders before I came here."
"You clearly don't remember me. You were so stuck up your own ass that you never even looked at the people around you at the Riders. You got a good thing going here. Hmmm what would happen if it all went to shit for you?"
My pulse roars in my ears.
No. No, no, no.
She leans closer. "You were one of Jinx's favorites, weren't you? The only one he didn't want to share. Kept you all to himself."
My stomach lurches. "I don't know what you're talking about."
She laughs, low and wicked. "Oh, babe. You can play dumb all you want, but I know exactly who you are." She flicks a glance toward Bones, who's standing across the room, still talking to Ghost. "Wonder if he does."
Fear slams into me.
I drop the rag, my hands clenching into fists. "You don't know shit about me."
Her smirk never falters.
"I know enough."
And then she slides off the barstool and saunters across the room.
Straight to Bones.
I can't hear what she's saying.
But I see it. The way she leans in too close, her lips moving soft and slow like she's whispering a secret just for him. The way Bones' expression shifts, his jaw tightening, his shoulders going stiff.
The way his eyes cut to me, cold and unreadable.
I can't breathe.
I can feel the club watching. I know what she's doing.
And I can't stop it.
Bones finally speaks. He says something to Ghost, but I can't hear what.
My stomach drops.
Ghost nods, already moving.
Tisha's smile is fucking victorious.
For the first time in eight months, I feel like prey again.
Bones
I watch the usual chaos of a Vultures party unfold around me. Brothers playing pool, flirting with the hang-arounds or the club girls, drinking at the bar, laughing. It's just another night, just another moment in the world I've built. The one I protect.
I see Tisha walking towards me.
She moves like she has something important to say, but I see through her. I've seen women like her before. Opportunists. She's been sniffing around me since the night she arrived, making it obvious what she wants. I’ll be cutting her access to the clubhouse soon. Club girls always try their luck with the high-ranks and the President patch is more tempting to them than any other. I get that. But they are also given rules from the beginning. If a brother turns them down for good, they stay the fuck away. Tisha doesn’t seem to want to follow that rule.
Tonight, though, her expression is different. Calculated. She doesn't bat her lashes or sway her hips seductively. She walks up to me like she is on an important mission. Somehow, that pisses me off before she even opens her mouth.
"Bones," she says, tilting her head. "We need to talk."
I don't move from my spot, don't even fucking look at her for more than a second. "Talk."
She shifts closer, lowering her voice like we're sharing secrets. "It's about Ely."
My fingers tighten around my glass.
She watches me, gauging my reaction. I don't give her one. But inside, something shifts, cold and unfamiliar. I don't like hearing Ely's name coming from her.
"I know who she really is," Tisha continues, her voice smooth, too rehearsed. "She was a club girl for the Crimson Riders. She's one of them, Bones. Sent here to dig for information."
I finally look at her then. Because that? That's a heavy fucking accusation. And I need to see if there’s any flicker of a lie in her eyes.
Tisha doesn't waver. If anything, she leans in, like she's feeding off the moment, waiting for the cracks to show. "She's been lying to you. To all of you. And you're just gonna let her sit in your bed, wear your cut, pretend she's one of us?"
Something dark claws at my chest, something violent and immediate, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
Ely. A spy? A fucking traitor?
No.
No!
I know her. I fucking know her.
Tisha has to be lying.
Or she's twisting the truth into something ugly.
But my silence makes her bold. "You don't believe me?" she presses, her lips curving into a smug little smile, like she thinks she has me cornered. “Ask around. I just thought you should know before she fucks you over."
My muscles lock. Rage coils in my gut, hot and fucking relentless. Not at Ely. At Tisha. At her audacity. At her eagerness to tear down the woman I love.
But I say nothing.
Because even though my gut tells me she's full of shit, even though every instinct I have says Ely would never do this, I have a duty to the club. To my brothers.
I have to be sure.
So I push my anger down, force my jaw to unclench, and say, "You done?"
Tisha blinks. "That's it? You're just gonna brush this off?"
I shift my stance, my voice cutting like a blade. "You said your piece. You're dismissed."
Her face flickers with something. Uncertainty. Like she thought I'd take her word as gospel, throw Ely out without hesitation. She’s out of her fucking mind if she thought that's how this would go.
I don't trust her.
But I also don't ignore accusations like this.
So I tilt my head toward the door, "Go enjoy the fucking party."
For a second, she hesitates, as if she wants to argue. But then she smirks like it’s no big deal, and saunters off.
The second she's gone, I turn to Ghost.
"Need you to do something," I say, my voice low. "Ely's past. Dig into it. Find out if she was ever tied to the Riders."
Ghost doesn't ask why. He doesn't falter. "On it."
I down the rest of my whiskey, the burn doing nothing to settle the tightness in my chest.
Because no matter how much I don't want to believe it, if this is true, then the woman I love has been lying to me since the moment she walked through our doors.
And that?
That would be unforgivable.
Two hours later, the phone vibrates in my hand, the screen lighting up with Ghost's name.
I've been waiting for this call. Dreading it.
I stare at it for half a second before answering, pressing the phone to my ear, my voice coming out flat. "Talk."
There's a pause, just a beat too long, before Ghost finally speaks. "I went to the Riders' usual spot. Talked to a girl there." His voice is rough, edged with something I can't quite place. "Showed her a photo of Ely."
My spine locks.
I don't want to hear this.
But I have to.
Because if what Tisha said was bullshit, I need to shut it down. Make an example out of her. If she's lying, she won't see the sunrise. But if she's telling the truth...
Ghost exhales, the sound low, clipped. Heavy. "The girl knew her, Bones. Said she saw her at the Riders' clubhouse more times than she could count."
A slow, sharp pressure builds in my chest. Tightens.
"That doesn't mean anything," I grit out, leaning forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. "She could've just been at their parties, same as anyone else. Doesn't mean she was one of them."
There's another pause. Another hesitation.
Then Ghost says the one thing that ends me.
"She thought Ely was Jinx's girl. She was always in Jinx's lap apparently."
The words land like a fucking sledgehammer to my ribs.
I stop breathing.
My grip on the phone tightens. My jaw locks so hard my teeth might fucking shatter.
Jinx's girl.
No.
No.
My stomach twists, something dark and ugly clawing at the edges of my mind. I shake my head, trying to force the thought away. "That's bullshit," I growl, my voice harsher than I intend. Harsher than I fucking feel. "She's mine. She's with me every night!"
Silence.
And then Ghost, his voice softer now, lower. "Bones... she hasn't been seen at their parties in almost a year. Girl said she figured maybe they broke up."
Something inside me cracks.
I can't fucking breathe.
Ely. My Ely.
Jinx's girl? That fucker?
The girl who fell asleep with her head on my chest, her breath warm against my skin?
The girl who smiled up at me with trust in her eyes, who let me love her like she was fucking made for me? The girl I fucking claimed as my Ol' Lady?
No.
It doesn't make sense.
It doesn't fit.
But the facts are stacking up.
Tisha's accusation. The girl confirming she saw Ely at the Riders' clubhouse. That she thought Ely belonged to Jinx.
And suddenly, it doesn't matter what I want to believe.
Because I have a club to protect.
Because I have a fucking duty.
Because if there's even a chance she played me, if there's even a chance she was in my bed while feeding intel to the Riders, then I can't fucking ignore it.
I won't.
My voice is steel when I speak. "Get back to the clubhouse."
Ghost hesitates again, like he doesn't want to leave me alone with this information. He can hear something dangerous beneath my words.
"Bones, man. Wait until I can find out more."
"I said get back to the clubhouse," I snap, shoving everything else down, locking it all away. "Now."
He exhales sharply, but he doesn't argue. "On my way. Just fucking wait for me."
The call disconnects.
I sit there, the phone still clutched in my hand, staring at nothing.
Everything inside me is screaming.
Telling me I know her.
Telling me she wouldn't do this.
Telling me I should grab her, drag her into my office, demand she look me in the fucking eyes and tell me the truth.
But there's another voice now.
A colder one.
A deadlier one.
And it's telling me what I already know. I can't take that risk.
If she's a traitor, there's only one way this ends.
I have to find out for sure.
I have to confront her.
And if she lies to me…
If she looks me in the eyes and fucking lies, I will bury every last piece of her.
Even if it kills me.
Ely
By the time the bar clears out, I feel like I've been skinned alive. I have to trust Bones. He loves me, he won't do anything to hurt me. I don't need to run from him, not like I ran from Jinx. He'll understand.
But — he hasn't spoken to me all night.
Hasn't touched me.
Hasn't even looked at me the same.
Now, as I finish closing up, I feel his presence before I even see him.
The air shifts. Thickens.
And then he's there, stepping behind the bar, his expression blank, his eyes cold.
A flicker of suspicion.
A question that wasn't there before.
"What did she tell you?" I ask, my voice low, unsteady.
He leans against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos shifting over muscle and rage.
"She said you were Crimson Riders' trash."
The words hit like a bullet.
I swallow hard. "I worked at their bar."
He studies me. "And yet, you never told me."
I stare at him, pulse hammering.
"I was running," I whisper. "I didn't think it mattered."
He says nothing.
But it's already too late.
I see it in his eyes.
The doubt.
The beginning of the end. I should have run. But when?
"Take her," he orders coldly.
Reaper, one of the club's enforcers, appears at his side and my blood turns to ice.