God, I used to think this asshole was handsome.
Now all I see is the cruel twist of his mouth, the cold calculation in his eyes, the way he moves through the world as though everyone else is simply background noise in his personal movie.
He slides into the chair across from me, not bothering with pleasantries or apologies or any acknowledgment of the pain he caused.
“Marley.” My name sounds wrong coming from his mouth. “I have to admit, I was surprised when you called. Though I am glad to hear you’re done slumming it with biker trash.”
The insult rolls off me like water. I’ve heard worse. I’ve survived worse. And more importantly, I know the truth—Nitro is worth a thousand Dereks.
A million.
I force my expression into something vulnerable, broken. It’s not hard. I channel how I felt that night he kicked me out, standing on his porch with my hastily packed bag, my world crumbling around me.
“You were right,” I say quietly, the words tasting foul. “About Nitro. About everything.”
Derek’s eyes light up with vicious pleasure. “I’m listening.”
I take a shaky breath, letting my voice crack just enough to sell it. “I-I thought… I thought he was different. That he actually cared about me. But it was all a lie.”
“Of course it was.” Derek scoffs, folding his arms. “Men like him don’t do relationships. They do shields. You were convenient. Sweet. Harmless-looking. A perfect distractionwhile he hid whatever he didn’t want people to see. You were a cloak, Marley, a disguise, masking what he really is... what he really does. Everything about you and him was fake, just to put a shine on him so no one suspects the sins.”
The wire captures every word Ghost records.
Maria’s team is listening.
But I need evidence.
I need him to talk about the fire.
“The thing is…” I continue, dropping my gaze to my untouched coffee. “After the fire at the retirement village… he changed. Got paranoid. Started saying someone was out to get him.” I look up, meeting Derek’s eyes. “I think he knew it was you.”
Derek’s smile doesn’t falter, but something flickers behind his eyes.
Is that interest?
Curiosity?
Fucking pride?
“Did he now?” He leans forward, dropping his voice like we’re sharing a secret. “And what did you tell him?”
“Nothing.” I wrap my hands around my coffee cup, letting them tremble visibly. “I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to believe you could actually…” I trail off, leaving the implication hanging.
“Could what?” Derek prompts, his voice silky smooth. “Teach him a lesson?”
My stomach churns, but I force myself to nod. “Something like that.”
Derek laughs, actually laughs, as if burning down a building full of older people is funny. As if murder is a fucking punchline.
“You know what your problem always was, Marley?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “You never appreciated what you had. I gave you everything… a nice home, stability, a chance tobe with someone who couldactuallyprovide for you. And you threw it away for what? Some biker with a savior complex?”
I have to fight to hold back my what-the-fuck facial expressions. He broke up with me, but in his madness, he seems to have conveniently forgotten all about that.
“I know,” I whisper, hating myself for every word. “I see that now.”
“He needed to learn his place,” Derek continues, his voice hardening with satisfaction. “No biker trash makes a fool of me. Nobody takes what’s mine and gets away with it.”
There it is.
