He leans forward, his smile turning vicious. “The best part? Your biker boyfriend is too stupid to figure any of this out. He’s probably still crying over his grandmother, blaming himself, never knowing that it wasyou, your choice to be with him, that got those old farts killed.”
Derek isn’t just evil, he’s arrogant. So arrogant that he doesn’t see the noose closing around his neck. So arrogant that he’s confessed to everything on a wire that’s recording every word, feeding it directly to Maria Moretti’s team. So arrogant that he doesn’t notice Sin, Nitro, Koa, and Bear moving through the café, positioning themselves at strategic points around our table.
“You’re wrong about one thing,” I say quietly, straightening my spine and letting the vulnerability vanish like smoke. “Nitro isn’t stupid. None of them are. In fact, they’re smart enough to make sure I was wearing a wire for this entire conversation.”
Derek freezes. For half a second, he blinks, confused, as though he genuinely can’t process what he just heard.
Then the blood drains from his face.
“W-what?” His voice cracks, thin and brittle. “No. No, that’s… Marls, you’re bluffing.”
I lift my chin, tapping two fingers to the neckline of my dress. “Everything you just said? Recorded. Admissible. And feeding directly to the police captain who’s been waiting for enough evidence to arrest you.”
It hits him like a sledgehammer.
His expression collapses into sheer panic.
Then fury.
Then panic again.
“You… you fuckingbitch!” His chair screeches violently as he shoots to his feet, knocking it over. Heads turn. Customers stare. He points at me with a shaking hand, voice rising into something shrill and unhinged. “You set me up? You setmeup! AftereverythingI did for you?” He laughs, loud, hysterical, desperate, but it sounds more like a choke.
“No. No, this isn’t happening. You don’t get to do this to me. You don’t get to—” His eyes jerk wildly around us, finally noticing the brothers closing in.
Sin is blocking the exit.
Bear is stepping behind him.
Koa is drifting closer like a shadow.
And Nitro is silent, controlled, but burning with rage, standing at my back.
Derek stumbles backward, bumping the edge of the table, knocking over his untouched latte. “You think you can… you think you canruinme?”he snarls. “You willnottake me down, you hear me? I’m untouchable. Do you understand? I’m—” He stops abruptly when he sees the officers arriving at the door.
Detective Maria Moretti is outside the front door.
His face drains completely.
His knees actually buckle.
For a second, I think he’s going to faint.
Derek’s breathing turns erratic, shallow pulls like he’s drowning on dry land. “No… no, Marls, please.” His voice cracks, hands lifting as if he can physically stop what’s happening. “I didn’t mean for anyone to die. I swear to God. That wasn’t the plan.” His laugh jerks out of him, ugly and unhinged. “I just needed him to lose something. I needed him to feel what I felt when you walked away.”
His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and desperate. “That moment where you realize the best thing in your life is gone, and you’renevergetting it back. I wanted him to know that pain.” He leans forward, lowering his voice, like this is some shared confession. “You did that to me,” he says quietly. “You left me empty. You tookeverythingthat made me feel like I mattered.”
For a long second, I say nothing.
I let him sit in that belief.
Then I straighten.
“No,” I say calmly. “Youdon’tget to rewrite history.”
His brow creases, confused. Still clinging to the idea that this is about him.
“You didn’t lose me,” I continue, my voice steady, sharp, surgical. “You discarded me. You chipped away at me until I barely recognized myself. And when Ifinallystopped bleeding for you…youdecided that meant I owed you something.”
