Not just to complete a transaction. He wantsher.
"We can negotiate," Blaze tries. "The money can be returned in installments. We'll work out a payment plan."
Venom shakes his head. "This isn't about money anymore. It's about honor. About justice for my son."
"Your son," Phantom says, his voice dropping dangerously low, "got exactly what he deserved."
The room goes silent.
Venom's eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"
Phantom doesn't answer, and I can see him warring with himself.
He wants to tell them.
Wants to throw what Bronco did in their faces.
But he can't.
Because if he tells them Bronco raped Grace, they'll know the rival MC story is bullshit.
They'll know someone in the club killed him for it.
They'll know we've been lying for years, and they'll demand blood.
"It means," Phantom finally says, "the arrangement is dead. Grace isn't available. The money will take time to return. And whoever killed Bronco isn't your concern."
Flint leans forward, and his smile makes my trigger finger itch. "Here's the thing, Phantom. We've been doing our own investigating. Following trails. Watching your club."
"Watching us?" Thunder's voice is a growl.
"Watchingher," Flint says, his eyes cutting to me. "Grace."
My blood turns to ice.
"See, we wanted to understand what we were dealing with. So we've been keeping tabs. Following her vet calls. Watching her clinic. Learning her routine." Flint's smile widens. "And we noticed something interesting."
Don't say it. Don't fucking say it.
"Your enforcer here—" Flint nods at me "—seemsrealattached to her."
Every eye in the room turns to me.
"At first we thought he was just doing his job," Flint continues, enjoying himself now. "Protection detail. Standard enforcer work. But then we saw them at the Peterson ranch. Working together. Touching." His voice drops, intimate and cruel. "Looking at each other like they were fucking."
Phantom goes rigid beside me.
"In fact," Flint says, "we're pretty sure your enforcer's been claiming your daughter, Phantom. Been marking her up. Been in her bed. Been?—"
"Careful," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "How you finish that sentence."
Flint's grin is triumphant. "Truth hurt, enforcer?"
I could deny it. Could call him a liar. Could play it off.
But I'm done lying.
Done hiding.
