Page 118 of Reckless

“Three years of family testimony,” Sin says finally, his gaze coming back to me.

“Twelve families. Twenty-three individual accounts. Photo documentation,” I answer. My voice comes out steadier than I expect it to, and I hold onto that steadiness because it feels like the only thing in the room that’s fully mine right now.

“And this man threatened your sister?”

“And Ghost, and he sent men after the club,” I specify.

Sin is quiet, giving the multiple facts room to sit beside each other so their weight becomes obvious without either of us having to say it out loud. He looks at Ghost. Ghost looks back. There’s a conversation happening between them that doesn’t need words, the kind of understanding that belongs to two men who have known each other a long time and trust each other completely, deciding without speaking exactly how far this is going to go.

“We’re not going to the police with this,” Sin says.

“I didn’t think you were,” I say.

“You’re not concerned about our methods?”

I hold his gaze, waiting for the guilt to hit.

It doesn’t.

Instead, I feel lighter.

“Senator Calloway has been using the police’s regulatory channels to threaten my organization for months. No. I am not concerned.”

Something almost like a smile touches the corner of Sin’s mouth, gone before it fully forms. “Build the complete picture,” he says. “I’ll handle the meeting.”

He doesn’t add anything more, and I don’t ask him to.

A few months with Defiance has taught me that silence isn’t the end of the conversation.

Sometimes it is the answer.

There’s a version of me from a year ago who would have kept pushing, who would have needed every detail laid out before she could sit still.

That version of me isn’t in this room today.

I trust these men in a way I didn’t know I was capable of trusting anyone outside my own family, and the strange part is how much lighter that trust makes the weight I’ve been carrying alone for months.

Ghost stands first. His hand finds the small of my back again as we leave, and this time he doesn’t take it away.

Outside, the desert heat presses down hard, the kind of Vegas afternoon that makes the air over the asphalt shimmer, rows of bikes lined up under a bright sky. My mind is already moving through everything that comes next, the pieces stacking on top of each other faster than I can properly file them. The regulatory complaint. The families who need to hear something before the fear does more damage than Calloway has managed on his own. Piper, and how much of this she’s allowed to carry, and whether there’s a version of that conversation that doesn’t put her more at risk just by having it.

“We should call my director tonight, because if Sin’s going to move on this soon, I need Unsilenced positioned before anything happens publicly.” I continue, “And Piper still doesn’t know about the texts, which means we need a plan for that conversation before—” I stop talking when Ghost looks at me, taking both my hands in his. The kind of look that makes my heart forget what it’s doing.

I’ve learned enough about Ghost to know this isn’t hesitation. It’s quite the opposite. This is the moment where he’s already made his choice and is finding the courage to live with it.

His eyes never leave mine.

Ghost steps into my space, his hand sliding up to cradle my jaw. “I’ve been wanting to do this all damn day.”

A laugh catches in my throat. “Only today?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “Fuck, no.”

My heart stutters. “Good answer.”

I don’t give him the chance to say anything else before I catch the front of his cut and pull him the rest of the way to me. His mouth crashes into mine with enough force to steal every coherent thought I had left. It’s nothing like the careful restraint we’ve been dancing around for months. It’s heat, relief, and every conversation we’ve kept quiet instead of having.

His hand slides into my hair, holding me there while my fingers curl into the leather beneath them. Somewhere in the distance, someone whistles.