Merifling through files.
Metrying to access his computer.
Searching, desperately, for anything about Marcus.
“Imagine my surprise…” Ghost says, his tone deadly calm, “… when I saw this.”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I can’t do anything but stare at the screen as it plays my betrayal on loop.
This is it.
This is how it ends.
Ghost finally turns to face me, his eyes hard as flint. “I can show this to Sin right now. Let him deal with you however he sees fit…” He pauses, letting that image sink in. “Or… you can tell me what the fuck you were looking for?”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with threat and possibility. My brain screams at me to lie, to deflect, to do anything but tell the truth.
But I’m so tired of lying.
I square my shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. If I’m going down, I’m going down swinging. “I was looking for information about Marcus Delaney.” My voice is steadier than I feel. “I’m an investigative journalist. I know when something doesn’t add up, Ghost. His death was ruled an accident, but the pieces don’t fit. I need to know whatreallyhappened.”
His expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or calculation.
“Why?” The question cuts through the air like a blade. “Whyhimspecifically?”
This is the moment.
The calculated risk.
The gamble that could save me or damn me completely.
“Because I think this club is hiding something about his death.” I take a step closer, injecting every ounce of conviction into my words. “You brought me here to show what you’re really about. Good, bad, and ugly. Which category does Marcus Delaney fall under, Ghost?”
For a long moment, he simply stares at me. I see him weighing options, running scenarios, deciding whether to believe me or drag me to Sin. Then he scrubs a hand over his beard, jaw working like he’s chewing on something bitter. “Fuck,” he mutters. “It’s not my place to decide if we tell you. But we need to talk to Sin.Now.”
Before I can respond, his hand wraps around my arm, not violently, but firmly enough that I know there’s no escape. He pulls me toward the door, back into the main room. The moment we emerge, conversations stop. Brothers look up from their coffee, their card games, their hangovers. All eyes track our movement across the clubhouse.
Nitro pushes himself up from the couch, concern etching lines in his forehead. “Ghost? What’s going on?”
“Need the pres,” Ghost says shortly, not breaking stride.
The tension in the room skyrockets. Everyone can sense it. Something significant is happening, something that could change everything.
My legs feel like water, but I force them to keep moving. Each step brings me closer to the inevitable confrontation.
Closer to Sin finding out who I really am.
What I’ve done.
This is it. No more running. No more hiding.
The truth is coming, and I have no idea if it will save me or destroy me.
But as Ghost leads me through the clubhouse, past brothers who have become almost like family, and toward the man I can’tstop thinking about even as I betray him, I realize something terrifying.
