CHAPTER forty-six
Your Name Still Lingers in the Ash
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
Leaving Elias in that apartment was like leaving a piece of my soul behind. Every step toward the door felt like a betrayal, but I forced myself through it. As we talked, I felt the faint buzz of a DM come through on my phone, the confirmation that my plan is in motion.
On the ride to my destination it’s hard to keep my hands still. Anticipation thrumming through my senses.
When I arrive I step out of the car and take a deep breath before stepping inside the building in front of me.
The bar smells faintly of stale beer and lemon cleaner as I sit in the dimly lit booth. It is quiet, a half dozen people scattered across tables, a bartender polishing glasses, music low and forgettable. The kind of place you could disappear in if you wanted to.
And then I see him.
He walks in with his head dipped, a ballcap pulled low enough to shadow his face. The disguise is lazy, but I’d know him anywhere. Even from across the room, something about him feels off, wrong, like static in the air.
My pulse climbs, but I steady myself as he slides into the seat across from me.
The vinyl seat squeaks under his weight.
He tilts his head, the corner of his mouth curling into that smirk I remember too well—sharp, devious, dripping with arrogance.
“Ramona.”
I let his name fall from my tongue like a blade.
“Traeger.”
I wasn’t sure he’d come. Part of me prayed he wouldn’t—that maybe the accusations hanging over his head meant there was still some fragment of decency in him. But deep down, I knew better. Traeger could never resist a stage, no matter how small. The thought makes me shiver.
The messages that I had sent him had been hard to type. Having to act like I have even an ounce of interest in him feels like betrayal, but I knew it was the only way to get him here.
“So, you finally got tired of that loser, huh?” His voice is lazy, venom disguised as charm. He lights a cigarette, the smoke curling upward from his lips like a taunt.
I fight the urge to recoil.
“You could say that.”
He leans back into the booth, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifts between us. The shadow of his cap hides most of his face, but the smirk is unmistakable.
“I knew you’d come around,” he says, cockiness dripping from every syllable. I run my tongue along my bottom lip before catching it in my teeth; his eyes track the motion.“I knew I would break your little hard-to-get routine eventually.”
“You caught me.” I make my tone as saccharine as I can manage.
“So, should we take this party somewhere more private?”
“So impatient. A girl can’t get a drink first?”
I snag the attention of a passing server. She takes our orders and saunters away, and I don’t miss the way Traeger’s eyes trail down her backside. Bile collects in my throat.
She returns quickly with a glass of whiskey for Traeger and a beer for me that I don’t intend to drink.
His eyes rake over me as he takes a sip, and it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to vomit.
My hands move under the table, careful, trembling just enough to betray me. I slide my phone free, thumb tapping the recorder before setting it face down on the tabletop. My heart pounds so hard I’m afraid he’ll hear it.
“What happened with Elias, Traeger? I know you were involved.”
For a second, his eyes lock on mine, narrowing. Then they flick down to the phone before crawling back up, slow and deliberate. His jaw shifts, and a short, derisive laugh escapes him.
“You think I’m stupid?”
My chest constricts. I force myself not to glance at the phone, to hold his stare as though I’m not unraveling inside.
“What. Happened.” My voice is tight, clipped.
In a blink, his hand lashes out. He snatches the phone, flips it toward himself, and turns the glowing screen toward me. The recording app blinks red.
“Nice try, bitch.”
My stomach drops. The breath leaves my lungs in one rush. This was supposed to be my chance, my proof. My way of fighting for Elias the way he’s fought for me. For everyone. And I botched it.
He taps the screen, ending the recording, and sets the phone back on the table with theatrical care, face-up this time. The smugness on his face curdles my blood.
“I thought you were smarter than that, sweetheart.”
The word drips from his mouth like poison, thick with mockery.
My stomach turns at the sound of it, because I know what it’s supposed to feel like.
When Elias says sweetheart, it softens me, warms me, makes me feel loved.
Coming from Traeger, the same syllables are jagged, slicing at me, leaving nothing but contempt in their wake.
It’s strange how one word can hold two completely different truths depending on the lips it comes from.
Heat surges in my gut—anger, shame, all tangled together.
“I guess now you’ll never be able to prove anything…” He swirls the amber liquid in his glass, watching the way it clings to the sides before he takes a slow sip. His grin widens.
“You’ll never be able to prove that I forced that junkie to shoot up.”
My eyes sting, tears threatening to break loose, but I lock them down.
“That I shoved a gun in his face…” He chuckles, pleased with himself. “I was almost impressed he didn’t break.”
His laugh claws at me, sharp and cruel.
“Not until I mentioned his pretty little merch girl…”
The words slice through me. A tear slips down before I can stop it. His eyes catch it, track it, but his gaze never falters.
“Then he begged. Begged like the pathetic little bitch he is. And he took those drugs like a good boy.”
The disgust boils over, spilling through my clenched teeth.
“You’re lying. He never broke. He never would.”
“Is that what he told you?” He mocks.
“You’re a fucking coward.”
His smirk only deepens. “I like the way you insult me, baby.”
“Fuck you.”
“Anytime, sweetheart.” He drags his tongue across his lips, and bile claws up my throat again. I swallow it back.
Before I can fire back, a man steps up to our table. His voice is eager, starstruck.
“Hey man, big fan!”
Traeger stiffens.
“I think you’ve got the wrong guy, buddy,” he mutters, irritation seeping through.
“No, I’m sure of it. You’re that Hellwake guy!”
The color drains from Traeger’s face. He shoots up from the booth, muttering curses under his breath as he stalks toward the exit, nerves crackling through every step.
The “fan” slides into the booth across from me, watching him leave. Then he turns back to me, and the weight drops from my chest.
It’s not a fan, it’s Ashton.
“Did you get it?” He asks, eyes alight with hope.
I reach under the table, fingers brushing the duct tape until they close around the phone hidden beneath. The screen glows, still recording. I hit stop and rewind, testing that we got what we needed.
On the ride over I had called Ashton. I laid out the plan as quickly as I could, every detail edged with urgency. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask for explanations I didn’t have time to give.
All he said was: “Tell me where and I’ll be there.”
Ashton exhales, relief breaking into a grin.
“You are a genius, Mona.”
I shake my head, my pulse still hammering, but my voice steady. “I knew if I fed his ego, he’d walk right into it. If he thought he had outsmarted me. He’s too proud of what he did to stay quiet. He wanted to brag about getting away with it.”
I place my hand on Ashton’s arm, my throat tightening as the adrenaline finally starts to ebb.
“Thanks for being here for me.”
“Anytime, sis,” he says. “I’m just glad Elias is okay.”
“Me too.” My chest aches, but this time with something like hope. “I need to go talk to him.”