My chest tightens, and my heart slows. Keeping my voice steady is the hardest thing I’ve done today. “I need to confess something.”
Goldie’s eyes narrow a fraction, his Zen showing an undercurrent of anger. Alessia’s expression doesn’t change at all, which is worse. Claire’s face is unreadable, but she’s close enough that I can feel her presence like a thundercloud.
Rabid nods. “Start talking.”
I open my mouth and shame surges — hot, desperate, choking — trying to make me babble. Trying to make me soften the truth. Pad it. Wrap it in excuses so they don’t see how stupid I’ve been for falling in love and trusting a man. For letting myself believe that someone out there could hold my heart and not break it to pieces.
“I brought a man near the club,” I say. “I didn’t bring him in through the front door. But I got him work here. I vouched for him. You know who I’m talking about.”
I can’t say his name.
Goldie’s head tilts. “The contractor. Evan.”
“Yes.” My jaw clenches. “Evan Wilder.”
Claire’s voice is quiet. “Why are you telling us this now?”
“Because I found out who he really is.” I keep my eyes forward. Don’t look down. Don’t flinch. Don’t look anyone in the eyes because I don’t want them to see how shattered and brokenI feel — if they’re going to kick me out, I don’t want their last remembrances of me to be as some bawling mess. “His road name is Gator. He’s working for an enemy club. They sent him here to infiltrate us and get information.”
Claire’s inhale is sharp. “Molly, are you sure?”
Rabid’s voice is low. “What club?”
“The Sons of Sorrow,” I say.
“Tell me how you know this.”
I lift my chin. “Because I saw a text on his phone from a man named Midnight congratulating him on doing the job he was sent here for.”
Rabid’s eyes harden. “You went through his phone.”
He doesn’t say it, but the question’s there — how the fuck was I in the position to read Evan’s cellphone?
“Yes. I read his phone. It went off when he was sleeping. Next to me. We’d been… seeing each other. We knew each other before, in high school. Back then, he left town, and me, but he’d moved back recently and we reconnected.”
Alessia’s brows lift, just barely. Claire’s mouth tightens like she’s trying not to react.
Rabid’s gaze doesn’t move from my face. “Reconnected.”
I don’t look away. “I loved him. Back then, and before I read what was on his phone.”
Rabid’s hand tightens on the edge of the desk. “And you’re sure he got information.”
“He got something. He did a roof job the club didn’t need. He was around the garage. Around the back corridors. I can’t tell you exactly what he saw because I didn’t know to watch him, but whatever it was, it was enough for Midnight to tell him he did a good job.” I let the words sink in before I say what really matters. “This is on me.”
Claire’s eyes flash. “Molly, there’s more to it than that.”
“No,” I say, cutting her off, not unkindly, just firm. I look at Claire, then back at Rabid. “Don’t. I’m not doing the ‘poor me’ thing. I made choices. I let my guard down. I brought him close because I believed him. Those were all things I did, and things I should be responsible for.”
Rabid’s expression says nothing. That scares me more than yelling.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” I say. “I’m telling you the truth so you can protect the club. And I’m telling you what I’m willing to do to make it right.”
Goldie’s voice is flat. His eyes are cold. “Which is?”
“You want me off the bar? I’ll quit. You want me to leave town? Done. You want me to help set a trap? I’ll do it. You want to use me as bait because Evan’s still in love with me and the Midnight guy he’s working for seems like he’d probably love to go after me, too? I’ll stand in the open and smile for those two motherfuckers while you do what you need to do. I know I fucked up, I know I put you all in danger, and I love you all and want to do whatever it takes.”
Claire’s eyes widen a fraction at that, but she doesn’t stop me.
