30. History
Bones
I was dead on my feet half an hour ago, ready to sleep off the exhaustion pressing on me. Now? Now, I feel like my entire fucking body is vibrating, too much energy thrumming through my veins, ready to burst out through my chest.
Because she's here.
Right behind me. Her arms around me. Wearing my jacket.
And that's fucking with my head more than anything.
She had her own, but it wouldn't have been enough for a ride in this weather. So she had to take mine. The moment I saw her in it — drowning in it, wrapped in something that smelled like me — my soul left my fucking body. Just danced away happily, laughing its ass off.
I still have no idea what she wants to talk about, but the way she looked at me back there? It cracked something open inside me. A sliver of hope wedged itself between my ribs. And fuck, I'm in trouble.
I barely survived walking away the first time. If she asks me again? If she tells me she still wants me gone? I don't think I can do it.
I shoved the need to be near her into a deep, dark hole when I thought I had no other choice. I buried it. Chained it down. Killed it.
But all it took was one look — one fucking look — and it clawed its way back out.
Now, it's riding me again, like some deranged horseman of the apocalypse, ready to raze the world to the ground.
We move together with the road, our bodies in sync, like we always were, as if we never stopped being. For the first time in what feels like forever, the darkness inside me takes a step back.
An hour later, I pull into the same viewpoint I took her to last time.
The silence stretches between us, easy, unforced. I don't rush her. I don't push.
This is her moment.
She'll speak when she's ready.
I lean against my bike, watching her take in the view. The wind plays with her hair, strands whipping around her face. She's beautiful. I want to say it, but I don't.
A few minutes pass before she finally speaks. Her voice is soft, quiet. Like a confession.
"I didn't think this place could become any more beautiful, but somehow it did."
I turn my eyes to her. "The beauty of this place doesn't even begin to compare to yours."
She smiles, shaking her head. "Charming as always." Then, her expression shifts. The teasing is gone. She turns to me, serious, resolute.
"Stop flirting. We'll be talking about serious stuff."
I smirk. "I always take what you say seriously, Temper. I might not always agree, but I take it seriously."
She sighs, dropping her arms, glancing up at the sky like she's searching for an answer in the clouds.
"I don't know where to fucking start. I've been so focused on just getting to the clubhouse, that I didn't make a plan."
"Take all the time you need," I tell her.
She nibbles on her bottom lip, staring into the distance, lost in thought. Then, she takes a deep breath, steadies herself.
When she speaks again, her voice is even. Controlled. Like she's about to narrate someone else's life.
"I'll tell you the story of Ely, Bones. All of it."
My throat tightens. Fuck.
I already know some of the story. The FBI report. The testimony tapes.
But hearing it from her — standing right beside me, breathing it back to life — is going to fucking gut me.
I swallow hard and brace myself.
This is going to fucking hurt.
Temper
I start at the beginning. Where any story starts.
I don't look at Bones. I just lean on the bike next to him and keep my eyes on the sky, stretched endlessly before us.
"I was abandoned as a baby. Left in the hospital. I never got a chance to know my birth parents. They didn't want me."
The words come out steady. Detached. But inside, something twists.
"It's weird, you know? Babies are always the fastest to get adopted, but I wasn't. I got shuffled around. Foster home to foster home. You already knew that part. But I never really told you about my life back then. I used to avoid thinking about it."
I take a breath, steeling myself.
"My first foster parents were good people. They took me in when I was a baby. I was with them the longest — until I turned eight. It was the only good time I knew."
I let my voice soften at the memory.
"They wanted to adopt me, but they weren't in their best years and the state was reluctant to approve the adoption. They were both well into their fifties. The social worker kept saying they wouldn't be able to take care of me long-term. That they weren't an ideal placement. But they loved me. They gave me a home. She developed early-onset Alzheimer's, though. And he had a bad heart. One day, he was just... gone."
I have to stop. Swallow hard. Force back the tears clawing up my throat.
"I still remember that morning. I usually woke up first and climbed into bed with them. But that day, when I curled up beside them, he was cold. I kept calling his name, but... I think, even then, I knew. She woke up, and—"
I shake my head. I don't need to say it. Bones can imagine the rest.
My chest feels too tight, and my fingers tremble slightly as I wipe the tears from my face.
"I couldn't stay with her. Not with the Alzheimer's. They moved me." I look down at my lap, let the tears slip freely now. No point in stopping them. "I called them Mom and Dad. Tod and Amelia. They were the only real parents I ever had."
I pause. Let the weight of it settle.
"She died a few months later. I found out in one of my other homes. They didn't even tell me right away. I didn't get to say goodbye."
Bones' arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me into his warmth. Holding me up.
"Take your time, baby," his voice is rough. "You don't have to tell me everything now if it's too much."
I shake my head against his chest. I want to.
"No, I need to. When we first met, we burned fast. I got lost in us, in you. I kept my past locked up tight because I didn't want to expose myself. I wanted a family, but I didn't want to be too vulnerable. I didn't want to talk about the things that made me who I was. Even Ria only found out all the details last month. I'm done hiding, Bones. I want the whole story out in the open."
I exhale slowly. Prepare for the next part.
"The next home I went to was... fine. As fine as it could be. But I was grieving. A little girl drowning in loss, lashing out in all the wrong ways. I refused to eat. Screamed and cried at night. Tried to run away to find Amelia, the only mom I knew, because I didn't understand why I couldn't just stay with her. I was difficult. And they weren't equipped to handle a difficult kid. So they shipped me off again."
I let out a humorless laugh.
"The next foster home had a little girl who didn't want to share her parents. She made my life a living hell. Picking at me, tormenting me in all kinds of ways. Looking back now, it wasn't her fault, not really. Her parents shouldn't have become foster parents if their own child wasn't ok with it. But anyway, it was a fucking mess. I snapped one day. Destroyed all her toys. And that was that. I was gone again."
I squeeze my hands into fists. Keep going.
"The next home was worse. The mom used to hit me with a belt whenever I did something wrong. And apparently, I did a lot of things wrong. I tried to run, but where the fuck was I gonna go? So they moved me again. This time, to the Millers."
I let out a shaky breath.
"They were drunks. Both of them. Alcoholics, through and through. I was thirteen. Had to learn fast. Cooking for myself, getting myself to school, cleaning. They didn't give a shit about anything but their next bottle. But at least they left me alone. It could've been so much worse. And for that, I was grateful. They got their check, I got a place to sleep. Even if it was a hellhole. Even if all I ate was canned soup and ramen noodles."
My voice drops lower.
"At least they didn't beat me. Unlike the last place I came from."
I finally turn my head, meeting Bones' eyes.
And it wrecks me.
Because he looks like he wants to take every single thing I just said and rip it apart with his bare hands.
Like he's mourning the little girl I used to be.
Like he wants to burn the entire world down for her.
But I have to go on.
"I was fifteen when I met Lucas. Four years older than me, confident, smooth-talking. He had that reckless kind of charm, the kind that draws you near. He fed me tales of his club — his family — brothers bound by loyalty, living by their own rules. And I ate up every fucking word."
"He started bringing me around the clubhouse, and I liked it. Of course I did. I was fifteen, and that's exactly when all that bad boy bullshit starts getting into your head. The thrill, the danger — it felt intoxicating. I didn't stop to think that maybe a fifteen-year-old girl had no place surrounded by a bunch of grown men. Not like that. Not in their world. But they welcomed me in, made me feel like I belonged. They taught me how to smoke, put drinks in my hand, let me stay up until morning, laughing, feeling like I was someone. The club girls dressed me up in tight clothes, curled my hair, told me I was pretty. I was over the fucking moon."
I feel the lump in my throat growing. Bones doesn't rush me. He just sits there, solid, unmoving, his arm still wrapped around my shoulders like a lifeline. Grounding me. Keeping me steady.
"I was seventeen when I first met Jinx." The words leave me in a whisper, like saying them too loud will bring him back to life. "He creeped me out from the start. Something about him just felt... off. But by then, I was already in too deep with the Crimson Riders. I thought they were my family. I thought they'd protect me."
I huff out a humorless laugh. "So fucking stupid."
Bones' grip tightens around me, like he wants to squeeze the past right out of me. His voice, when he speaks, is low, steady. "You weren't stupid, baby. You were a kid. They knew exactly what to say, what to do, to make sure you never left. And that fucker? He was probably watching you long before you even realized it."
I stiffen, my breath catching. "I never thought about that." A sick feeling curls in my stomach. "You might be right."
I inhale deeply and then exhale slowly. My body shudders, and Bones pulls me in closer. He doesn't say anything. He just holds on, like he already knows what's coming next.
My voice barely makes a sound, but I force the words out. "Since I turned eighteen, for five years...he raped me."
The weight of it is suffocating, pressing on my chest like a slow, crushing force. "I never went to the cops. I was too ashamed. And even if I had… I didn't think anyone would believe me over him." My voice is just a breath, but somehow, it still feels too loud. "They called me a club girl, but I only belonged to him. His to use. I had to pretend it was okay. Tell myself that I wanted it. Every day. So I wouldn't break. So I could survive. So I could fight. I did what I had to do."
I swallow hard, my throat burning. "I let him take me without protest. I..." I shut my eyes for a second, trying to hold myself together. "I fucked him. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. Because I wanted to live." I take a shaky breath, my voice sharp as a blade. "That is still rape, Bones."
His entire body locks up beside me. "Of course it fucking is!" His voice is a growl, raw and furious. His breathing is rough, harsh, like he's fighting against the rage clawing up his chest.
I lean into him more because I need the weight of something solid to keep me from slipping away into the past. "Whenever he sensed hesitation from me, he beat me black and blue. He'd put a gun to my head and tell me that next time he'd riddle my brain with bullets. So I tried to keep him happy. Keep him from using his fists. From killing me. All while trying to figure out a way to escape."
"I tried running tens of times before I actually had the courage to go through with it. But then… I finally did it. And when I ran, I ran straight to the Vultures."
"If I had any other option — if I had money, if I had someone to help me — I wouldn't have gone to you. I wouldn't have run to another MC. But I didn't have anywhere else to go. So I chose you because Jinx was fucking terrified of you guys. I knew he wouldn't come for me on your turf."
I scoff, shaking my head. "But I was too naive. I didn't know everything. That night at dinner, when I drugged your lasagna"— I flick my eyes up at him, arching a brow —"you told me the Riders had already tried to infiltrate your club. But I didn't know that. No one told me shit at their clubhouse. I heard enough to piece together what they did for business, but I had no idea what kind of war was brewing. I just knew Jinx would never step foot into Vultures territory because I could see the fear in his eyes every time your club came up."
I exhale slowly. "He fucking shivered every time. And I was right. He never came himself. But he sent Tisha."
A shiver crawls down my spine. "With a diabolical plan. She was supposed to test the waters. See if you knew who I was. And when she was fairly sure you didn't, their plan was set in motion. Even if you would've killed me that night, he still would have counted it as a win."
I turn to Bones, meeting his eyes. They're darker than I've ever seen them. Haunted. Violent. A raging storm.
"Because that's the kind of monster he was."
He is shaking beside me. I can feel the fury radiating off him, rattling through his muscles like he's barely holding himself together.
I turn my head, raising a brow. "Do you need to scream into the void or something? Because it feels like you're about to rip your own skin off."
He drags in a breath, eyes screwed shut, chest rising and falling like he's battling a war inside himself. Then he mutters, "Just give me a moment, baby."
And then he steps away. Walks right over to a tree and punches it. Hard. Knuckles-first, bone against bark, with everything inside him.
"Don't break your fucking hand! You still have to drive us home!" I yell, exasperated.
He tips his head back, scrubs a now bloody hand down his face, and breathes through his teeth like he's trying to exorcise something clawing at his ribs. Then he turns back to me, looking calm. Too calm.
I narrow my eyes. "You have a smear of blood on your face now, dumbass." Arms crossed, I take a step sideways. "And you're not touching me with that hand."
A laugh escapes him, short and disbelieving. "You're wearing my jacket. I'd be the one who has to clean it."
I arch a brow. "You'd have to clean it even if it was mine."
His lips twitch, and before I can move, he wraps me up in a hug. One arm locking around my waist, the other sliding into my hair, his chin resting on the top of my head. I stiffen for half a second, then sink into it.
"That better not be your bloody hand in my hair, asshole," I grumble, but there's no heat behind it.
"It's not, baby." His voice is a quiet promise.
We stand like that for minutes. Just breathing. Just existing. I didn't realize how much I needed this.
When we finally pull apart, it's slow. Reluctant.
My eyes catch on my hand, and something in my chest tightens. My fingers stretch out in front of me, a ghost of a memory clawing its way up my throat. "He took my ring," I whisper. "The one you gave me. The engagement ring. Yanked it off my finger right before he threw me onto the side of the road."
Bones goes so still, I swear the world holds its breath with him.
I swallow hard. "He used to give me these little trinkets. Old lockets, rusted bracelets. I think they were some kind of sick trophies from his victims. And he wanted to see me wearing them. Who the fuck knows what kind of twisted satisfaction he got from it." I let out a breath, sharp and bitter. "At the time, I just thought he was a cheap asshole. But after he was exposed as a serial, everything started to make sense. It all fell into place."
Bones looks at me, fire burning in his eyes. "I'll give you all the rings you want, Temper. You're here. You're living. And he's nothing but ash. He died choking on his own fucking dick. He lost."
A small smile tugs at my lips, and I swat his chest lightly. "Don't get ahead of yourself, biker cowboy. There are no rings in your future. Or mine."
I pause, my words lingering between us, my own thoughts catching up.
I sigh, looking past him, toward the horizon.
"But...My mind is clearer now." I let the words settle before turning back to him. "When you were always there, following me around, pushing your way into my life, I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe through the anger. It was eating me alive, consuming everything. But after I killed him, it was like...all of it left me in a rush. And suddenly, I could hear my own thoughts again."
I shake my head, laughing under my breath. "You have no idea how many times I changed my mind about coming to speak to you."
He's watching me like a man walking toward the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if the ground will hold or if he'll fall.
I nibble on my bottom lip, voice steady. "I think...I think I want to see if there could ever still be something between us."
The breath rips out of his chest. His eyes widen, like he just witnessed the universe crack open.
"Fuck, I can't believe those words just left my mouth!" I drag a hand down my face, exhaling hard, my breath misting in the cold night air.
I straighten, my fingers tightening around the edge of my jacket, the weight of my own words pressing down on me. Bones is looking at me like I'm the last goddamn miracle on Earth, his hands fisted at his sides, his body locked up tight.
"You have to understand, Bones," I whisper, my voice steady despite the inferno raging in my chest. "Even back then, I was hiding. From the truth. From what happened to me. I lived in survival mode. I needed your MC to survive, so that's where I went. I clung to it. I loved being with you, the way you treated me, and that made me forget for a while. The people at the clubhouse, your people, they followed your lead. They accepted me. And that made it easy to love being there."
I shift on my feet, staring into the distance.
"I never thought, after what Jinx did to me, that I'd fall for a biker. That I'd get attached to another club again. But I did. I guess trauma isn't the same for everyone. Even now, I have nothing against bikers or MCs. I know you're not all the same. I could've been raped and tortured by an accountant for all it fucking matters. In the end, it's all about the person. And I learned, somehow, that I have to judge people as they come."
I finally look at him again and continue.
"When I met you, I was stunned," I admit, my voice barely a breath. "I never wanted to have sex until then. It was never my choice until you gave it to me. You asked me." My fingers twitch, remembering. "You were a light so goddamn bright, you blinded me. I came to you like a moth to a flame. And I got burned."
His jaw clenches. His eyes darken. He looks like he's in physical fucking pain, but I don't stop. He needs to hear this. I need to say it.
"I was afraid, Bones. Afraid of telling you my past. Afraid you'd judge me. That you'd be disgusted. I know now that I could have told you. That you wouldn't have judged me. That if I had been the one to come to you, you would've listened. But I didn't know that then. I was too inexperienced and still battling demons I didn't understand. And it still hurts," I whisper. "What you did."
His entire body tightens, his fists curling like he wants to beat himself bloody.
"Because I was yours, Bones." My voice cracks, but I don't look away. "And you hurt me."
His shoulders drop, his eyes mist over. He looks to the side and I can see him trying to control himself.
"I'm so fucking sorry. I...there are no fucking words," his voice is a rough whisper.
The silence between us is a living thing, stretching tight and sharp, ready to cut. I take a breath, push past the lump in my throat.
"I won't say it's okay, because it's not. It never will be. But I want to move forward. I can't keep living in the past. I was his captive for those five years, and I've remained his captive for the last four, almost five. I can't keep doing it. I can't give him that power over me anymore."
My fingers tremble when I reach up and touch his face, just the lightest brush, barely there. His breath shudders out, the contact is too much, too little. Everything.
"And you..." My eyes lock onto his, into that storm brewing just for me. "I don't know if I can ever forgive you completely. There's no rage inside me anymore, but there's still pain. But there's also memories. Of all the good. And I don't want to look back and regret you."
His eyes go wild.
"Regret is worse than anger," I continue. "You can let anger out, but regret... it festers. And I don't want to go from an overfull shell to an empty one. So I want to try. I want to see if there's a chance. For us."
"I want to see if one day, I can look at you and not remember that night at all." I swallow hard. "That night will never disappear. But maybe... maybe we can create enough good to overpower it."
His hands find my waist, gripping me like I'm something fragile and breakable, like he's terrified to hold on too tight and even more terrified to let go.
"Temper," he whispers, my name like a prayer.
His forehead touches mine, his hands flexing on my waist, his whole body trembling as if he's barely keeping himself from falling apart. I close my eyes, let myself feel this moment.
I don't know where we'll go from here. I don't know if we'll ever get back to what we were. But for the first time in years, I want to find out.
"But!" I break the moment, stepping back from him and looking into his eyes. He needs to understand this. "We start slow. Really slow. No stalking. No forcing your way into my life. I'll come to you. Got it, creeper?"
His eyes are so wide, so fucking reverent, that I almost start laughing. I grin, watching his expression shift when I add, "You can start sending me those text messages again. I'm actually curious when you're gonna run out of ideas for all those reasons."
His breath stutters. He can't believe what the hell he's hearing. A smile slowly stretches on his face. "I'll never run out of ideas, baby. Never."
I shake my head, still smiling. Then his arms are on me again, gripping my waist. His voice is raw, barely a whisper. "I never thought I'd hear those words coming from you. That you'd ever be open to trying again. We can take it as slow as you want, Temper. I'll wait forever. As long as you need, baby. I'll always wait for you."
My heart feels so fucking light, I swear it floats.
I lean back slightly, smirking up at him. "I want to eat my chocolate now."