“Bonnie.” Ghost’s quiet voice cuts through my protests. He’s standing by the window, watching the lot. “Ash is acting president now with your father gone. That means his word is law. And he says you stay here where we can protect you.”
The reminder of Dad hits like a fist to the stomach. He’s in federal custody. Someone betrayed him. The club is falling apart, and I’m sitting here arguing about which safe house to hide in.
Jamie moves to my arms, cleaning cuts from the fence. I wince but don’t pull away.
“Who do you think did it?” I ask quietly. “Who snitched?”
The room goes silent. Everyone knows what I’m asking.
“Don’t know yet,” Ash says finally. “But we’ll find out.”
“Had to be someone with access to real information.”
“We’ll find out,” he repeats.
Jamie wraps gauze around my arm. Moves to the next cut. The pile of bloody cotton grows in the metal bowl beside her.
“You need rest,” she says. “Real rest. Not just sitting on a couch while I patch you up.”
“I’m fine?—”
“You ran through the woods barefoot in a wedding dress.” She gives me a look. “You’re not fine. You’re running on adrenaline and stubbornness.”
“The stubbornness is genetic,” Titan says.
I almost smile. “Shut up.”
“There she is.” He grins. “Thought we lost the Bonnie who tells me to shut up.”
“She’s just buried under layers of trauma and blood loss,” Ghost says without turning from the window.
Jamie finishes with my arms and moves to check my back, where the fence scraped me. She hisses through her teeth. “This needs stitches.”
“Do what you have to do.”
She pulls out a needle and thread. “This is really going to hurt.”
“Join the club.”
The first stitch pulls through skin, and I bite down on my lip hard enough to taste blood. Jamie works quickly and efficiently, but each stitch is a fresh kind of hell.
Ash watches from his spot against the wall. His jaw is tight, hands clenched into fists at his sides like he’s physically restraining himself from interfering.
“You should have fought harder,” he says suddenly. “Should have said no from the beginning.”
“I did say no.” The words come out sharper than I intend. “Nobody listened.”
“You accepted it?—”
“Because I didn’t have a choice!” I twist to look at him, and Jamie hisses at me to hold still. “What was I supposed to do? Start a war? Get more people killed?”
Jamie ties off the last stitch and sits back. “Done. Try not to move too much, or these will tear.”
“No promises.”
She packs up her kit and stands. “I’ll check on you in a few hours. If anything starts bleeding again or you develop a fever, you tell someone immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
