4. Loyal
Bones
L oyalty.
It's the foundation of this club. Of my life. Of everything I fucking believe in.
And right now, standing in the cold basement cell, staring at the woman I thought I'd spend my life with, I feel like it's all slipping through my fingers.
Elyna sits in the chair in the center of the room, wrists bound behind her, ankles zip-tied to the legs of the chair. Her hair is a mess, her lips trembling, her chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow — but it's her eyes that fucking get me.
Wide. Glass-green and filled with something I can't afford to let me falter. Fear. I shove the thought down.
"Tell me the truth," I order, my voice coming out harsher than I meant it to.
Ely swallows, sitting up straighter despite the restraints. "I already did."
"Not good enough." My fists clench at my sides. Control it. Keep it together.
She shakes her head, tears clinging to her lashes. "Bones, please—"
"Don't," I snap, stepping closer. "Don't fucking say my name like that. Not after what you did."
A choked breath escapes her lips. "I didn't do anything."
I want to believe her. Fuck, I want to believe her.
I love this woman. I fucking love her.
But I've seen too many betrayals. Too many women betraying men for a chance at something more. Too many men stabbing their own brothers in the back because of a woman.
I swore that would never be me.
I pull a chair in front of her, drop into it, and lean forward, forearms on my knees.
"Tell me," I grit out. "How long have you been with the Riders? How long have you been a spy for them?"
Her lips part in shock. "What?"
"Don't fucking play dumb."
Her chest heaves. "I didn't! I wasn't spying!"
"Bullshit."
She flinches.
And for a second, one stupid fucking second, I almost regret it. I grit my teeth, dragging a hand down my face before leaning in again.
"How long?" I growl.
She shakes her head furiously, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Bones, I swear—"
I slam my fist against the arm of her chair. Hard. She jumps, her entire body trembling now.
"You were a club girl for the Riders," I spit. "You didn't think that was something I should fucking know?"
Her breath hitches, and I see it in her eyes. A flicker of something deeper.
Pain.
"I wasn't a club girl like that," she whispers. "Not like Tisha. Not like the others. I—"
"I don't give a fuck how you justify it." My voice is cold, sharp like a blade. "You didn't tell me. And that makes you a fucking liar."
Her face crumples. "I ran from them. I never wanted them—"
But the rage inside me is louder than her words.
"You ran, huh?" My lips curl. "Ran straight into my bed?"
A small, broken noise escapes her throat, like I just ripped her apart.
Good. She ripped me apart first.
I push away from the chair, pacing the room, running a hand through my hair, trying to drown out the part of me that still fucking loves her. But it's not enough.
I can't trust her. And if I can't trust her, I can't keep her.
"You know what happens to traitors, Ely?" I say, my voice dangerously calm.
She doesn't answer.
I turn, leveling her with a dead stare. "They don't get second chances."
She sucks in a breath, her eyes wide with terror now. She should be scared. Because I should kill her for this. That's what I'd do to any other traitor.
But I can't. I can't fucking do it.
So I'll do the next best thing. I'll strip her of everything. I'll make her suffer. Then I'll send her back to the Crimson Riders. Let them deal with her.
I step closer, my shadow swallowing her whole. Her head jerks up, her body twisting in the chair. Panic. Raw, real panic.
"Bones, please, you don't know the whole—"
I grab her jaw in my hand, forcing her to look me in the eyes.
"I don't care."
Her body shakes. "Please—"
I let her go, stepping back.
"Tank. Joker." My voice is cold, detached, final.
The door swings open, and they step inside.
"Take her to the tattoo chair."
Ely stiffens, her breath choking on a sob.
"What are you doing?"
I stare down at her, my chest hollow, my hands curling into fists.
"Making sure you never forget what you are."
Ely was still shaking when I left her. Still sobbing, her breath ragged, her body wrecked from the weight of the ink that was carved into her skin.
TRAITOR.
I wanted to stay. Wanted to look at her just one more time. But I couldn't. Because if I did, I might fucking undo everything. So I turned my back. Walked away. Left her in the dark, alone, like she had done to me the moment she stepped into this club with her lies.
The second I step into the main room, I spot Tisha. She's lingering by the stairs, eyes flickering with something smug, something that makes my jaw tighten. She thinks this is a fucking victory for her. She's about to learn how wrong she is.
I flick my gaze to Reaper, giving him a single nod.
Bring her down.
Reaper steps forward, grips Tisha's arm. She jerks slightly, confused, but doesn't resist.
I don't slow my stride as I lead the way back down to the interrogation room in the basement. The scent of fear and betrayal is still thick in the air.
I pull out a chair. "Sit."
Tisha hesitates. But one look at Reaper's glare and she obeys, lowering herself onto the chair.
She doesn't look so smug anymore. She shouldn't. Because I'm out of patience. And I have no fucking mercy left.
I lean against the table, arms crossed. Cold. Unreadable.
Tisha shifts in her seat, her hands clasped together in her lap.
She finally forces a smile, a weak one. "You gonna thank me for what I did?"
I tilt my head. "What exactly did you do?"
She lifts her chin. "Told you the truth. Saved you from being played by that bitch."
I nod slowly. "Right."
And then I slam my fist onto the table. She jumps.
"Now tell me the real truth."
Her face pales. "Bones—"
"How'd you know Ely was with the Riders?" My voice is low, calm. Dangerous.
Tisha freezes. Wrong move. I grab the back of her chair, yanking it forward until she's face to face with me, trapped.
"How the fuck did you know?" I snarl.
She gulps, eyes darting between me and Reaper.
"I — I was at their parties a few times," she finally stammers out. "A long time ago. Before I came here. I'm not connected to them! Never was! I just happened to recognize her from the parties! I didn't want her to hurt you! I love this club!"
I don't react. Don't blink. Because I know. I fucking know. She didn't just happen to recognize Ely. She wasn't there for just a few parties. She's trying to save her ass, but nothing is going to save her.
This bitch already knew too much.
I pull out my gun and press the barrel against her forehead. Tisha whimpers, her breath coming in fast, panicked gasps.
"Tell me everything," I murmur.
She chokes on a sob. "Bones, please—"
I click the safety off. Loud. Final.
"I'm done asking."
Her hands tremble in her lap. She looks at the barrel, through it, seeing her end. And that's when she breaks.
"I was a club girl for them! Ok?! I was sent here," she blurts out, her words stumbling over each other.
I don't move the gun.
Sent here. Just like Ely.
"Keep talking," I growl.
Tisha nods quickly, tears streaking down her cheeks.
"They — they wanted information. About your deal with the Romano family. They didn't know how close you were to securing the new weapons trade."
I inhale slowly, keeping my rage buried deep.
"You spied for them."
"No, no, I never told them anything! I swear, Bones—"
She sobs, her body shaking violently now.
"I was supposed to send word back. To — to — to help Ely," she continues, desperate, frantic, trying to explain herself. "But I — I never did. I changed sides! I wanted to be part of the Vultures!"
I press the gun harder against her forehead. She gasps sharply, fresh tears spilling over.
"You're lying. You never changed sides," I say, voice flat.
"No, no! I love this club, Bones! I only told you about Ely because I wanted to protect you!"
I scoff. Laugh, cold and empty.
"You think I'm stupid?"
She sobs harder. "I thought you'd see her for what she was! I thought—"
"You thought you could replace her. Show the Riders you're better than her. Get yourself in deeper, for better intel," I finish for her.
Her lips quiver. "No! No! I just know I would be good for you, Bones. I — I'd let you do anything you want to me. Fuck me in any hole—"
I finally lower the gun. I hate it when they get this desperate and whiny.
Tisha sucks in a relieved breath, shoulders sagging.
She doesn't realize what's about to happen. She's about to find out why they're calling me Bones.
I move fast. My hand clamps around her forearm before she can react, my grip unyielding. With a swift shove, I pin her to the chair, my palm pressing hard against her chest, locking her in place.
Then I yank. Hard.
Her body jolts violently, a sharp, sickening pop echoing through the room as her shoulder dislocates. She gasps — a strangled, breathless sound — but I don't let up. I keep hold of her arm, twisting at the elbow, forcing it in the wrong direction.
Skin splits. Bone bursts through muscle in a jagged, wet crack. It’s over before she even knows it.
Her forearm dangles, held together by nothing but flesh.
And I'm still fucking angry.
She tries to stand, tries to run. Screams, eyes frantic.
"No — NO! PLEASE—"
I stare at her.
I've never done this to a woman before.
Guess there's a first time for everything.
I release her arm and turn toward the tools table. My favorite waits for me right in the center. A long, custom-made metal baseball bat, wicked spikes embedded along its barrel. A brutal masterpiece.
Guns? They're quick. Efficient. But they don't give me what I need.
I like the sound of bones breaking.
And this bat? This bat sings when it meets flesh.
I pick it up, run my fingers along the cold metal. It calls to me, whispering, begging to be used. The rage coiled inside me surges to the surface, demanding release.
I oblige.
The first swing lands between Tisha's shoulder blades, spikes sinking deep. A sharp crack. Her spine might be shattered.
She screams. Kicks. Pleads.
I don't acknowledge any of it.
Because I don't care.
Not anymore.
I already gave all my mercy tonight.
And Tisha?
She gets none.
The final blow crashes into her skull.
She's done.
And my rage?
Still. Fucking. Roaring.
The office is dark, lit only by the dying glow of a single whiskey bottle on my desk.
I sit back in my chair, fingers dragging through my hair, the weight of the past pressing against my chest like a goddamn vice.
The brand on Ely's arm is still fresh in my mind.
The way she sobbed, begged me to listen.
I should feel fucking satisfied.
She played me. Lied to me. She deserved it.
So why the fuck can't I stop thinking about her?
Why do I keep seeing her the way she used to be?
Before her betrayal was exposed.
Before the fucking truth destroyed everything.
Flashback
She's in my bed, curled up against me, her fingers tracing patterns over my chest tattoos. Teasing, playful, but with that quiet softness only she ever brings out of me.
I have one arm behind my head, the other resting over her hip, holding her close, keeping her there.
Her voice is lazy, low. Happy.
"What's your real name?"
I crack an eye open, smirking. "Bones."
She huffs, shoving at my chest playfully. "No, your legal name."
I stay silent for a moment, debating if I should tell her.
Because nobody knows.
Not even the club. Not outside Ghost, my mother, and my old man.
She must sense my hesitation because she pulls herself up on her elbow, looking down at me, her eyes filled with something that makes my heart skip a beat — trust.
I exhale, running a hand up her back. Fucking soft. Warm.
"Three people know my name, baby," I murmur. "Ghost. My father. My mother."
Her breath hitches slightly, her gaze searching mine.
Then I tap her chin, hooking a finger beneath it, tilting her face toward mine.
"Guess that makes four now," I whisper.
She smiles. Soft. Teasing.
"Kane," I say, voice low. "My name is Kane."
She stills for a second, like she's memorizing the sound of it, the feel of it in the air.
Then, before I can read her expression, her mouth stretches into a slow, playful grin.
"Thanks for trusting me with that, Kane."
My eyes narrow. "Don't call me that."
She giggles, pressing a kiss against my jaw. "Oh, I won't. You'll always be Bones to me."
I raise a brow. "Oh really? Why?"
She leans in, her voice a whisper against my lips.
"Because you always make my bones shiver in the most delicious way."
I growl, flipping her onto her back, pinning her beneath me.
Her laughter turns into gasps.
And I make damn sure to prove her fucking right.
I exhale slowly, the memory fading like smoke, leaving only the bitter taste of whiskey and regret.
Ely had that look in her eyes that night.
Like she trusted me.
Like I was the one thing in her life that was real.
And I fucking believed it.
Now?
Now she's branded a traitor.
Now it’s all fucking over.
And my real name?
She was the last person I'll ever tell it to.
Because I'll never trust like that again.
I reach for my phone, thumb hovering over the number. I hesitate. I fucking hesitate.
The Riders will pay for this. I’ll find every deal they have and raze them all to the ground. Leave them penniless, scrambling to stay afloat. I went easy on them before. I had bigger fish to fry. But now? They sealed their fate.
Tonight, I’ll let them have one of their spies back. Let them think that’s where it ends. And then I’ll strike when they least expect it.