25. Belladonna
Bones
I study the man in front of me, his entire body shaking like he's standing in a fucking blizzard. The piss stain spreading across his cheap dark blue suit does nothing to inspire confidence. At first glance, he looks like a middle aged car salesman who got lost on his way to work. His whole presence screams ordinary, but it's the shoes that really fuck with my head.
Crocs. Fucking Crocs .
I narrow my eyes. Really? Crocs? This asshole was lurking outside Temper's house like a goddamn creep. In Crocs! I can smell trouble from a mile away, and this fucker reeks of it. But not in the usual way. Not in the way of men who know how to hide their sins. This one wears his madness like a medal. Proud. Self-righteous. Diseased.
"Are you a nurse by any chance?" I ask, keeping my tone conversational.
"Wh-what?" he stammers, wide eyes darting between me and the door like he has a prayer of getting out of here alive.
"The Crocs," I motion to his feet with my head. "Not exactly the choice of footwear for a man on a mission."
His lips tremble. "I just... They're comfortable. Other shoes hurt my feet," he mutters weakly.
I sigh. There's no excuse.
Ghost leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching everything unfold with that blank, dead-eyed expression he's perfected over the last thirteen years. I don't even know if he's capable of feeling anything anymore, not in a way that normal men do.
I need to make this quick. Find out what I need, then deal with him. The fucker tied to the chair doesn't look like a threat, but something about him sets my instincts on fire. He wasn't just wandering around Silverpine for fun. He was watching Temper's house. Twice.
After the first time, I sent Joker to follow him. He did nothing unusual, drove around, went back to his motel, ate a fucking burger like a normal tourist. But the second time he drove by Temper's house? He had binoculars.
That's when I knew. That's when I ambushed him and dragged his ass to The Fun House.
Former wine cellar. Current state-of-the-art torture chamber.
Luxury clubhouse, luxury interrogation room. We're moving up in the world.
I tilt my head at him, voice dropping into a quiet threat.
"Why were you watching the house with the yellow fence?"
He licks his lips, eyes darting toward the tools laid out on the table near the wall. He knows what's coming.
"I was just... looking for someone," he finally croaks out. His voice is small. Scared. Good. He should be scared.
I raise a brow. "Really? Who?"
He hesitates. He can feel the noose tightening around his neck.
I start walking toward the tools. Slowly. Giving time to his fear to really wrap around his spine.
"A... a woman." He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing like a fish caught on a hook. "Blonde. Short. Very short. Blue eyes. Curly hair. A few extra pounds. Her name is Evangeline. Bu-but she might go by another name now..." His voice trails into a whisper.
Fuck.
That sounds like someone I know.
"What do you want with the woman?" I ask, still pretending to inspect the table, even though my blood is already singing for violence.
And then, like a goddamn switch flipping, the fucker lights up.
His spine straightens. His eyes burn.
"She killed our pastor! She has to pay for her crime! She is a demon who needs to be destroyed! Banished from Earth! She is evil and will spread her sins across this land, corrupting humanity! Apephet, our savior, will not stand for this! We must prepare for the arrival of the Holy Nagathis and—"
I tune him out.
I don't need to hear any more of this shit to know he's already dead.
I glance over at Ghost, expecting his usual blank stare. But the motherfucker is smiling.
Full-on. Teeth showing.
I blink.
The first real smile I've seen in thirteen fucking years — and it's directed at a raving lunatic who wears Crocs and preaches about demons.
I don't know which one of them is more disturbing.
I take a breath. Focus.
Turn back to crazy straws.
"We can't be letting demons run amok now, can we?" My voice is calm, understanding, almost soothing. Like I'm his goddamn disciple.
He nods fervently, like I've just confirmed all of his sick little beliefs.
"Do your... brothers? Parishioners? Friends ?" I throw out words like darts. "Do they know you found where the demon is hiding?"
His face glows with excitement. Does this fucker really think I'm on his side?
"I was going to call them with her exact address once I was sure," he says eagerly. "We had an incident before, and I didn't want a repeat. I saw her go to that house a few days ago, but then she left not long after. I tried to follow, but I lost her trail. And she never came back. I know someone else lives there. Another woman. I'm sure that woman has been corrupted, too." His eyes blaze with fanaticism. "She will need to be dealt with. Purified with holy venom. To erase the stench of the demon from her soul."
Yeah, he's done.
"So no one knows you're here?" My voice stays light, casual.
Something flickers in his eyes. Suspicion.
I can't have that.
I pick up a knife, walk to the chair and cut the bindings on his right hand. He flinches, confused.
I do the same with the other, then pull him to his feet.
Throw an arm around his shoulders, friendly-like.
"We'll help you with your little demon problem," I murmur, my voice dripping with sincerity. "Evil shouldn't be allowed to fester, spreading lies and corruption among the righteous." I keep my voice steady, my expression grave. "I know exactly who the woman you're looking for is. But we'll need reinforcements. Holy ones. From your group. She's too powerful for just us. She even poisoned us once. We barely escaped with our lives." It's a fucking struggle to keep my face straight.
His breath catches.
Hook. Line. Sinker.
"So, do they know you're here in Silverpine? Or do you need to call them?" I press gently. "We'll need all the help we can get."
His entire body vibrates with excitement.
"I knew the Holy Nagathis was guiding me! He always provides when the righteous are in need! I haven't called my Order yet, but I can do it now! I was meant to be in Brookside two days ago, but when I saw the demon, I stayed here. I knew I had to gather more information before alerting my brethren. They'll need time to prepare the sacred rites, the tools." His breath quickens, eyes gleaming with unhinged zeal. "The demon's blood must be collected with precision, stored in a sanctified amphora, untouched by corruption. And the other one — the tainted one... she will require a different method of purification. A venom, potent and holy, to cleanse her soul before the ritual can begin..."
"The name? Of your Order?" I ask, letting my voice drop back to steel.
He straightens with pride. Something really fucking dark glitters in his eyes.
"We are The Holy Disciples of the Veil," he proclaims. "We—"
He never finishes the sentence.
I thrust the blade that was still in my hand upward, piercing beneath his chin and driving it clean through his brain.
He doesn't even have time to scream.
The light flickers out of his eyes instantly.
I exhale. Let his body drop to the floor. The knife stays lodged in his skull.
I turn to Ghost, who's already watching me, expression unreadable.
"They'll be looking for Ria," I say, my voice flat, deadly. "I don't want Temper dragged into this. Put Tank on Ria watch duty. They get close, they burn."
Ghost nods. Turns to leave.
But something's still nagging me.
"Ghost."
He stops. Looks back at me.
I narrow my eyes. "Are you okay?"
His eyebrows shoot up, like the question itself is absurd.
"Yeah," he says simply.
Then he's gone.
I glance down at the corpse, at the knife still embedded in his skull, at the piss-stained Crocs.
Suspicious as fuck.
The bell over the door at Belladonna Brew irritates the hell out of me. I should already be at my watch post — close enough to Temper to feel her presence, but still too fucking far away. She's working today, and even though she's been letting Tank and Ghost inside her office building, I haven't been granted the same courtesy. My nuts are freezing every time I'm on guard duty, but I don't fucking care.
The devil with an angel's face behind the counter narrows her eyes at me the moment I step in, like she's expecting lasers to shoot from them and vaporize me on the spot. I wouldn't put it past her to actually will that into reality. Temper's best friend, Azaria "Ria" Whitmore. Also known as the tiny menace who hates my guts. I can't blame her.
"Hello, Azaria," I greet her, my tone deliberately bored.
She flicks a glance at my throat — at the inked mark that brands me with my greatest sin — before she plasters on the sweetest, fakest fucking smile I've ever seen.
"Hello, Traitor. " Hah. Funny.
"Would you like a coffee?" Her teeth flash in something that could almost be mistaken for kindness.
I lean forward over the counter, lowering my voice to a whisper.
"Sure I would... Evangeline."
She goes rigid, her entire body locking up like a puppet who just got its strings yanked hard. "What did you just call me?" Her voice is like a razor's edge, sharp, deadly.
I tilt my head, watching her. She's good at hiding things, but not good enough.
"Met an interesting man today," I say, casual as ever. "He was looking for someone. A woman. Wanted to deliver her to his order. " I pause, watching her reaction. "The Holy Disciples of the Veil. Ever heard of them?"
She swallows hard. "No." The lie comes too fast. Her face is stone. But the slight tremor in her fingers gives her away.
"I'll get your coffee, and then you can leave," she says flatly, turning away. "We won't be serving bikers anymore."
I sigh. "Ria, I'm not here to make trouble for you. But trouble is looking. And it's going to find you, eventually. I want one of my brothers watching you from now on. Discreetly. Just until we're sure those zealot fucks don't follow the one I had a very curious chat with."
Her spine straightens. "I don't need your protection." Her voice is pure fire, like she's daring me to argue.
"I'm sure you can take care of yourself," I say, keeping my voice calm. "But I also know you're Temper's best friend. If you get hurt, she gets hurt." I pin her with a look. "And I really don't want her to get hurt." My voice is deadly dangerous. "So at least accept it for her."
She crosses her arms. "You really like spreading your little biker cult around every woman in your orbit, don't you? First you're watching Temper, now me?"
I rub a hand over my face. "Believe me, I really fucking wish it wasn't necessary. Whether you want it or not, someone will be watching. I just wanted to give you the heads-up. They won't interfere with your life."
I lock eyes with her. "I was coming to talk to you anyway, before I had to deal with that snake whisperer lunatic."
Her brows arch, arms crossing. "They're snake worshipers, not whisperers. There is a difference." Her tone drips with superiority.
I roll my shoulders, unimpressed. "Whatever the fuck they are, it doesn't matter. If they come here, they won't be anything anymore." My voice is steel, final.
"I was coming to ask you to do something for Temper. She's not sleeping. She's too stressed out. She's drowning in this Jinx shit, and I need her to come up for air. Gather some people she likes this weekend, throw a barbecue. She used to love them, always put her in a good mood when we had them at the clubhouse. Being around people she actually likes helps her reset." I lean against the counter, my gaze sharp. "I'll pay for anything you need."
She tilts her head, eyes dragging over my face like she's searching for something. Then she narrows them. "Five thousand."
My brows furrow. "What?"
She shrugs, completely unbothered. "You said you'd pay for the barbecue. That's the price. I want to buy some good quality steak."
A slow smile tugs at my lips. Infuriating woman. But I can't lie — she's fucking hilarious. "And are you feeding that good quality steak to the entire town?"
She flashes her teeth, a smile as sharp as a knife. "No. Just Temper, Layla, me... and Griffin. Oh, and maybe your mama. Temper likes her a lot."
The air turns lethal.
"Griffin?" I hiss, voice low, dangerous.
Her eyes gleam with pure evil. "Of course. Temper likes him. He relaxes her real good." Her smile widens, watching me unravel. "She is the most relaxed after every meeting with him."
I grit my teeth so hard I swear I taste blood.
I know what she's doing. She's baiting me, digging her little claws in just to watch me burn. And fuck if it isn't working.
I close my eyes, inhale deep.
Bad fucking move.
Because now I see it. The image of Griffin's hands on Temper, his mouth on her, his—
I snap my eyes open, dragging air into my lungs like I've been drowning.
She's smirking. Loving every second of my suffering.
Demon.
"Fine." My voice is gravel. "I'll give you your five grand. Just handle it. If you need help, tell Tank. He'll bring the money, too."
Her mask cracks.
"Tank?" Her voice tightens. "Why would I tell Tank?"
I smirk. Gotcha.
"He's the one who'll be watching you."
She freezes.
It's only for a second, but I catch it. The subtle, nearly imperceptible shift in her demeanor. The sharp inhale. The way her fingers tighten ever so slightly against the counter.
Then — just like that — she snaps back into place.
She takes a deep breath, grabs a cup from behind the counter, and pushes it toward me with a saccharine smile.
"Your coffee. You can go now."
I narrow my eyes at her, take the cup, and walk out.
I dump it into the first trash can I pass.
Never. Fucking. Again.
Temper
I scan the people gathered in my backyard, my gaze drifting from one familiar face to the next. The scent of grilled meat lingers in the crisp evening air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of people I like. Or at least people I'd like to know better. My eyes land on him — Ghost.
There's something about him that's always set him apart from the others. He was quiet, calculating, distant. A man who spoke in actions rather than words. Back then, I never really noticed him. Not beyond the occasional exchange when he'd order a beer at the clubhouse bar. But now, standing here, remembering everything Tank told me, I realize that out of all the men I once called family, he was the only one who actually came after me.
I don't understand why .
So I move.
He is sitting on the worn wooden bench near the fire pit, a beer in his hand, his posture loose but not careless. The way he watches the world makes it clear — he's always aware. Always listening.
I approach, trying to act casual. "Hey." My voice is smooth, but there's an edge of curiosity I can't hide. "How are you enjoying the day?"
One corner of his mouth tugs up — just barely. "What do you want to know, Temperance?"
I blink. Not even going to pretend, huh?
"Am I that obvious?" I tilt my head, watching him closely.
His smirk deepens, just a little. "Everyone is obvious to me these days."
I huff out a small laugh, shaking my head. Then, my voice lowers, the weight of my thoughts making it feel small. "Tank told me you came after me." I shift, crossing my arms, trying to keep my voice steady. "That you wanted to get me out of the Riders' clubhouse. I guess... I don't understand why." I glance at him, searching for something in his face. "We didn't know each other well. We barely spoke. And almost every time we did talk, it was you asking me for another round of beer at the bar."
Ghost lounges back against the bench, sighing a little as he tips his head back and studies the sky. The firelight flickers against his face, casting shadows along the sharp lines of his features. Then, finally, he turns his eyes to me, something grim lurking behind them.
"Bones..." He pauses, exhales through his nose. "He's been my best friend since we were four years old." His voice is measured, even, but there's a heaviness beneath it.
"My family moved into the house next to his. When I was ten, both of my parents were killed by a drunk driver. I was left with no one. No grandparents. No aunts. No uncles. My parents were both only children. That meant foster care." He stops, his jaw flexing, but when he speaks again, his voice is calm. Like he's had years to make peace with it.
"That's when Mama and Pops stepped up," he continues. "But not before Bones threw a goddamn fit." He lets out a small, forced, dry chuckle, shaking his head at the memory.
"They were going to take me in anyway, but neither Bones nor I knew that yet. And he... well, he lost his shit. I'll never forget it. He was stomping his feet, screaming, crying — snot everywhere — and he dragged me in front of his parents, gripping my wrist so damn hard I thought he was going to break it. And then he declared
— not asked, declared — that I was his real brother and that I wasn't going anywhere. No matter what they said."
He shakes his head again, this time with something softer in his expression. "And if they weren't going to take me in? He was leaving with me."
I don't realize I'm holding my breath until he exhales sharply, with a barely amused smile. "Little bastard even packed a suitcase. You know what he packed?" He doesn't wait for me to answer. "Two pairs of underwear, chocolate, and toy bikes. That's it. He was ready to take on the world with me."
I blink, caught between shock and something that might be awe.
He just laughs, quiet, almost to himself. "Mama and Pops took me in, of course. I became part of their family. And Bones and I? We really did become brothers." He turns his head, locking eyes with me in the firelight. "I'll never forget my birth parents. But unlike you..." His voice lowers. Not in pity. Not in condescension. Just understanding. "I had the fucking luck to gain a second family."
I swallow hard, my throat tightening against the weight of his words. I wish I was that lucky, too.
"Temperance," he whispers, and I look back at him. "I knew he'd regret it. I knew how what happened to me affected him. I also knew that you weren't like Adora. We didn't talk much, but I watched you with him. And I fucking knew that, when the truth came out and Bones realized what he did, if you were dead, he would die too. By his own hand. Because he's not one to forge connections easily. He was twenty-nine years old when the two of you met, and he never had a girlfriend. Not even in high school. Fooled around with women, but never kept them. Until you. I knew I would lose him forever if he lost you for good."
He turns his head from me, staring at the dark expanse beyond the fire. "So don't thank me for coming after you. In the end, I did it for Bones. That's why I deserved your..." He lets out a chuckle, the sound low. "...paddling. Because I didn't want to rescue you out of righteousness. Because you were innocent. I wanted to do it so that I could save Bones."
"He's really lucky to have you in his life," I whisper.
He looks at me, something like curiosity flickering in his usually impassive eyes. "I'm the lucky one. Without him, I would've died in that prison. He was the one who convinced me to fight when all I wanted to do was give up because of a fucking broken heart. What he did to you..." He stops, his lips pressing into a thin line, like he's considering his next words carefully.
"Well, what he did to you was really fucking shitty, Temperance. But I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you. If you were anyone else, he would've killed you that night."
My stomach lurches.
"We are all killers," he continues, his voice flat, void of hesitation. "Our world is as brutal as it gets. We don't bat an eye at blood and spattered brains. Bones killed Tisha and had zero fucking remorse about it. He never killed a woman before. It's kind of an unspoken rule in our club — that you avoid killing women as much as possible. But in the end, she was a spy. A real one. So she got the treatment all spies get."
His gaze sharpens on me, cutting right through whatever fragile defenses I still have left. " All. Spies. "
I can read between the lines. I don't fucking like it. But I understand what he's saying.
I sigh, shaking my head. "Yeah, I get it. But that doesn't make my rage lessen. Or my scars disappear. And it doesn't kill the feeling of betrayal that follows me around like a shadow. I gave Bones everything that I was, and in the end, he didn't even listen to you, to at least wait. Or listen to my full side of the story."
He studies me, his head tilting slightly. His next words are quiet, but they pack a punch. "You didn't give him everything, Temperance."
I narrow my eyes. "What the hell does that mean?"
"You didn't tell him the truth about your past." His expression is unreadable, but there's something knowing in the way he looks at me. "If you did, if you told him from the start that you were running from the Riders, what they did to you... He would've burned those fuckers down for you. They wouldn't be rotting in prison right now. They'd be rotting in the ground."
I inhale sharply, my spine locking.
"That sounds a bit much like victim blaming, doesn't it?" My voice is hard, but it's masking something else. Something I don't want to examine too closely.
And then he does something unexpected. He laughs. A full-on laugh.
I blink. Ghost laughing is... unnatural. Like seeing a fucking statue suddenly move.
"I guess you're right. Sorry," he says, shaking his head. "In the end, it was your story to tell. And you should have had the chance to tell it when you wanted. But you can't deny it was a stupid move on your part. Bunker down with the number one enemy of the guys you were running from and keep such a huge secret? That was a disaster waiting to happen."
I exhale, a small smile creeping onto my lips. "You might actually have a point. I'll give you that." I tilt my head, scrutinizing him with newfound curiosity. "Who knew you had such a talent for conversation? You've been hiding that skill all this time."
He smirks. "I'm wise beyond my age."
"Somehow, I doubt that." I chuckle and turn away, scanning the backyard for Mama. I see her across the yard, grilling Griffin about something. He looks desperate. The man is literally shifting in his seat, like he's trying to escape.
He definitely needs saving.
"I'll see you later, Ghost," I say over my shoulder.
I don't have to turn around to know he's still watching me as I walk away.
Bones
She invited fucking Ghost. And Tank. Both of them. But not me.
Ghost and Tank.
But not me.
Fuck, that hurts.
I know why she didn't. Of course, I fucking know. But it doesn't make it burn any less, doesn't stop the tight, aching pull in my chest that's been there for years.
Laughter drifts from her backyard, carried on the cold night air, sharp and taunting. I should be there. I should be sitting at her table, watching her, listening to her laugh, soaking in the sound of her voice like a drowning man gulping air. And I would be if I didn't fuck it all up to hell.
Instead, I'm out here, on the edge of her world, leaning on my bike, frozen in place.
And Griffin is in there with her.
That thought alone is enough to send rage thrumming through my veins like an electrical current. If I don't see him leave at the end of the night, I swear to God, I'm going to have a fucking stroke. If he stays — if he fucking stays the night — I'll die right here in the cold. Bleed out from a broken heart.
An image flashes in my mind — his hands on her, his mouth on hers, her looking up at him the way she used to look at me — and my stomach turns. This has been happening ever since my talk with Ria. That fucking evil woman.
A walking, talking disaster in a floral dress, hellbent on making me insane. If I had any goddamn sense, I'd be helping that cult of snake-loving freaks light the fucking pyre instead of protecting her. Ria is a menace to my sanity.
I'm spiraling, lost in my own darkness, when I hear the sweetest fucking voice snap me back to reality.
"Bones, are you okay?"
I blink, turning toward her. She's standing a few feet away, watching me like I'm two seconds from snapping. Weight shifted onto one hip, eyes narrowed. Suspicious.
I clear my throat, trying to shake off the dark thoughts. "Yeah, why?"
She huffs, irritated. "I've been standing here for a while, calling your name. You were just frowning at the dark like a crazy person." She tilts her head, eyes sharp. "What the hell is wrong with you? And what kind of protection is this? What if I were an intruder? I could've just waltzed past you."
I let out a quiet chuckle, shaking my head.
"I knew Tank and Ghost were with you," I say simply. "I was just lost in thought."
Her eyes narrow further. "What kind of thoughts?"
I straighten my shoulders, trying to look like I haven't been mentally plotting Griffin's murder for the last twenty minutes. "Nothing important." I force my voice to stay even. "What can I help you with?"
She doesn't answer right away. Instead, she holds out a paper plate toward me. I reach for it—
And she snatches it back at the last second.
What the fuck?
"I thought you might like a piece of Mama's red velvet cake," she says slowly, watching me like I might lunge for it.
My heart stutters.
I smile, too fucking eager, too fucking hopeful. And she sees it.
Before I can take the plate, she yanks it away again, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.
Goddamn it.
She's toying with me.
"Don't read too much into it, Bones." Her voice is firm, warning. "I can see those wheels turning inside your head. This doesn't mean anything. You're just on guard duty... which, by the way, you're doing poorly."
Her lips press together like she's fighting a smile, but she quickly shuts it down. "I just wanted to make sure you don't faint from low blood sugar or something."
I smile. This woman.
"I wouldn't dare dream of more, my fiery Temper." I hold out my hand, daring her to pull it back again. "Now give me the damn cake."
She eyes me for a moment longer before reluctantly handing over the plate.
"Enjoy. Let's hope it's better than the coffee I gave you that one time," she smiles sweetly at me.
Ah, fuck. I'll eat it anyway. It's from her.
I take a big bite, watching her the entire time, making sure she sees the way my tongue swipes over my lower lip.
"Delicious."
Her arms cross over her chest, unimpressed. "I know. Mama's a great baker."
I chew slowly, savoring the taste, but mostly savoring this — her standing here, talking to me like it's normal.
She turns slightly, looking out into the night. I don't talk. It's clear she needs a moment to gather her thoughts.
A few moments of silence pass before she speaks again, her voice quieter. "Ria told me this whole thing was your idea." She doesn't look at me, just keeps staring out at the dark. "I actually wanted to thank you for that. I may want to murder you half the time, but I didn't realize how much I needed to be around people again."
My voice is soft when I answer. "You don't have to thank me, Temper. You always get too much inside your head about things. You just needed to breathe for a bit."
She doesn't respond right away. Then, finally, she turns, and I see it.
Sadness.
Deep, aching sadness.
Her voice is barely a whisper when she says, "Do you know why I actually hate you the most, Bones?"
I brace myself. "Tell me."
She exhales shakily. "It's not because of the tattoo." Her gaze flickers to my throat. "It's not even because you sent me back. It's because we were so good together. So fucking good. And you destroyed it all in minutes." She swallows hard, her eyes burning. "I don't even hate Jinx as much. Because he never showed me kindness. With him, it was always bad. But you—" Her voice wavers. "You showed me the best kind of love before you showed me the worst kind of betrayal."
Fuck.
I feel the cake turn to lead in my throat. Sick. I feel sick.
I open my mouth, but I have nothing. Nothing that can make this better.
"I'm sorry," I finally whisper, and the words feel hollow.
She shakes her head. "You keep saying that. But it doesn't make the bad feelings go away."
Before I can think, before I can stop myself, my fingers brush against her cheek. Just for a moment. Just to feel her warmth.
For a split second, she leans into it.
And then she's gone, stepping away, putting distance between us.
"I wish..." my voice breaks and I have to clear my throat. "I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could heal all your wounds with just a snap of my fingers. I wish I could make your soul whole again with just the spill of my blood."
I swallow hard. Her face is unreadable, but her hands tighten into fists at her sides.
"If wishes ever became truths," I continue, my voice raw, "you would never have known pain. Betrayal. Just happiness. But I'm just a fucking man. And I can't wish for anything. I can only do . And I swear, Temper, on my fucking life, I will do everything and anything I can to heal those wounds. I know it's impossible to heal them without scars remaining. But, after all these years, you're still bleeding, my fiery Temper. And I will do everything in my power to stop that. To stop the bleeding."
She doesn't move.
Doesn't blink.
Just stares at me, like she's trying to see if I mean it.
I turn to my bike and open the saddlebag. I hold out my hand to her, palm up, with the small blue flower I found. The one that made me think of her the second I saw it.
"Found this and thought of you. I was going to leave it on your porch tomorrow morning. Please don't give it away," I whisper.
She hesitates — just for a second.
Then, softly, carefully, she takes it from me. Her fingers brush mine, barely there, and I feel it like a fucking jolt to my chest.
A small smile forms on her lips. A ghost of something I thought I'd never see again.
"Who could I give it away to?" she murmurs, bringing the delicate petals close to her face. "It's just a small flower."
She stares at it. Lingers on it.
"It's beautiful," she whispers. "I used to love it when you did this." Her voice is quiet. "Found random things you thought I'd like and surprised me with them. It told me I was always in your thoughts."
I swallow the lump in my throat. "You are always in my thoughts. Always."
Her eyes darken. The moment shifts. The sadness deepens.
Fuck, I can't have that. I can't let this turn into another wound for her.
So I smirk. "So, was the cake really poisoned? Should I prepare myself?"
She laughs.
Full, belly-deep, unrestrained laughter.
It's the most beautiful fucking sound I've ever heard.
She clutches the flower to her chest, eyes gleaming with mischief. "I guess you'll see. I'm not telling."
She glances behind her, toward the house. Our moment is ending.
"I have to go now," she says softly.
I nod, forcing my voice to stay even. "Get some rest, beautiful."
She hesitates. Just for a second.
Then she nods and disappears back inside.
Half an hour later, I see Griffin leave.
And one of the chains around my heart finally snaps. A million more to go.