“The report was a cover-up.” Sin’s voice gentles, and somehow that makes it worse. “We found out the truth through our connections. And we had to make a choice. Expose whatreallyhappened and risk starting a war with corrupt law enforcement, risk putting innocent people in the crossfire…” he pauses, “… or keep it quiet. Protect Marcus’ family, who had no idea what he’d stumbled into. If they went digging, Rourke or The Alliance could go after them too. So, we chose to work to dismantle the operation from the inside.”
“We chose to protect them,” Ghost adds, his eyes falling on me. “We stayed quiet, went with the accident story. Made sure the investigation stayed minimal. Keep his family safe while we work to gather evidence against Rourke and the Hidden Hand Alliance.”
My brother. My beautiful, reckless brother, whom I thought had died in some stupid accident, was murdered.
By a cop.
By someone in my own department.
By my fucking boss.
No, my boss’ boss!
And I have to sit here and pretend I’m just a journalist hearing this for the first time.
“His family…” I choke out, playing my role even as my heart shatters. “Does his family know?”
“No.” Sin’s tone is firm. “And they can’t. Not until we have enough evidence to bring Rourke down. If they go to the authorities now, if they start asking questions, Rourke will know we’re onto him. He’ll disappear, or worse, he’ll go after them.”
The irony would be funny if it weren’t so horrifying.
They’re protecting Marcus’ family.
Protecting me.
Protecting Victoria Delaney.
And I’m sitting right here, and they have no idea.
I study Sin’s face, looking for any sign that this is a test. That they know who I really am, and they’re watching to see how I react. But all I see is genuine concern and wariness.
“You’re lying.” But even as I say it, I know they’re not. Everything clicks into place. The inconsistencies in the accident report. The way the investigation was shut down so quickly. “Thiscan’tbe real.”
“We’ve been working on this for years,” Sin says. “Trying to gather enough evidence to expose Rourke without compromising the people we’ve got inside, without risking more lives. It’s slow. It’s dangerous. And now you knowwhywe need to keep it secret.”
My hands are shaking so hard I have to press them flat against the table. “Why would you tell me this? I could print it. I could blow this whole thing wide open tomorrow.”
“Could you?” Sin’s eyes lock onto mine. “Could youreallyprint a story that would get innocent people killed? That would let a corrupt cop and a trafficking ring walk free because we don’t have enough evidence to prove Rourke’s connection yet?” He leans closer. “Or are you the kind of journalist whounderstands that sometimes the truth has to wait for the exact right moment?”
It’s a test.
He’s testing me.
And I have to pass.
“I-I…” My voice cracks. I swallow hard, trying to compose myself. “This is bigger than I thought. This isn’t just a story about a motorcycle club. This is—”
“This is life and death,” Ghost finishes. “For a lot of people.”
“I need to think.” I stand on shaky legs. “I need to process this.”
“Take all the time you need,” Sin says, but his tone makes it clear I’m not going anywhere until he’s satisfied. “But Elizabeth, I need to know this right now. Can we trust you to keep this quiet? Or do we have a problem?” The threat hangs in the air, unspoken but clear.
If I can’t be trusted, I become a liability, and the club deals with liabilities permanently.
But all I can think about is Marcus.
About the fact that he died trying to do the right thing.
