Liar.
She isn’t okay. She isn’t safe. Not really. Not as long as Malice has her by the throat.
Her phone buzzes on the table.
She flinches like it’s a slap.
Her face drains. Her hands shake so badly the coffee ripples in the mug. She looks at the screen and swallows hard, jaw tightening like she’s trying to hold in pain.
She doesn’t tell me what the message says.
She doesn’t need to.
They’re checking in. Demanding proof. Demanding progress. Demanding she earn her keep.
Her shoulders curl inward. Obligation wraps around her ribs and squeezes.
Rage rises in me, hot and sudden, toward a man I’ve hated for years for entirely different reasons.
“I’ll make breakfast,” I say, because my voice will do something violent if I keep talking. “Eggs and bacon.”
She nods without looking up.
I cook in silence. The skillet pops and hisses. The smell of bacon fills the cabin. She sits at the table with her mug and tries to make herself small.
We eat without speaking.
Fork to plate. Chew. Swallow.
The kind of quiet that isn’t peaceful, just careful.
When the plates are mostly empty, I wipe my hands once on a towel and lean back, chair creaking.
“A prospect will bring your car up this morning,” I tell her. “Ghost already has it moving. I’ll fix it.”
Her head lifts slowly.
Something cautious flickers in her eyes.
Questions she doesn’t ask out loud.
How do you know? How much do you know?
She takes a breath and finally meets my gaze. Her eyes are glassy, but sharp. Like she’s made a decision.
“I was sent,” she says.
The words come out in a rush, tumbling over each other like she’s afraid she’ll lose her nerve if she pauses.
“My father. Malice. The prez of the Wolves. He ordered me to seduce a Damned Saints member. He thinks you…” Her throat works. “I don’t know why, but he thinks you like girls like me. He wants revenge. He wants information. He doesn’t care what he does to me in the process.”
She swallows. Her fingers tighten around the mug.
“I didn’t have a choice,” she adds, quieter. “I removed the connector myself. I lied to you. I’m sorry.”
Her confession hangs in the air like smoke.
She waits for me to explode. To drag her to the door. To throw her back to the Wolves like she’s a bad deal.
