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I see happiness. Genuine happiness.

My breathing slows. My muscles relax completely.

Wraith’s arms are solid around me and his heartbeat is steady beneath my ear.

This could be real. This could be our life.

The contentment fills my chest until there’s no room for doubt or fear or anything except this perfect, golden hope.

I fall asleep smiling, imagining everything we could be.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Wraith

I lie in the dark and count her breaths. In, out. In, out. The rhythm slows over minutes that feel like hours, deepening from the shallow pattern of someone hovering near consciousness into something heavier. Sleep. Deep sleep. Her body goes loose against mine, her hand sliding off my chest to rest between us on the mattress. I wait another five minutes just to be sure, watching the rise and fall of her shoulder in the dim amber light filtering through the curtains.

She wants to testify.

Wants to stand up in front of judges and juries and federal prosecutors and tell them everything she saw. Everything she heard. Wants to put herself in the crosshairs of every Sons associate, every ally, every piece of shit who ever did business with Moose’s organization.

She thinks it’s brave. Thinks it’s responsible. Thinks it’s the path to that dream life she described — the apartment, the dog, the normal dinners and movie nights and mundane fucking happiness.

She’s wrong.

The only thing she’ll get for herself is the chance to wake up one night, in the middle of the night, and see Midnight standing over her, smiling.

I extract myself from the bed with slow precision. Inch by inch. Redistributing my weight. Making sure the mattress springs don’t protest. June doesn’t stir. Just makes a small sound in her sleep and curls into the warm spot I left behind.

My phone is on the dresser where I left it. I grab it and my jeans and slip out the door into the parking lot.

The night air is cool against my bare chest. Only three other cars occupy the lot, same as before, and none of them have moved. I cross to the far corner where the dumpster provides both shadow and distance from the rooms. The asphalt is rough under my feet but I barely notice.

I pull up Moose’s number. My thumb hovers over it for just a second.

This is the right move. The only move that keeps her safe. She doesn’t understand the game the way I do. Doesn’t understand that testifying turns her into a liability that never expires, a problem that needs solving, a name on a list that gets passed around until someone acts on it.

But a deal. A real deal. That’s something Moose will understand. That’s leverage I can use.

I hit the call button.

It rings twice before he picks up.

“Wraith.” His voice is gravel and cigarettes. “Thought about my offer?”

“I want to make a deal,” I say. No preamble. No small talk. “I need to guarantee our safety. I need the bounty gone and the Sons off our backs permanently.”

Silence for a beat. Then, “That’s a tall fucking order.”

“I know what I’m asking for.” I lean against the dumpster, the metal cold against my shoulder. “But I can deliver something you need in return.”

“I’m listening.”

“June won’t testify. I’ll make sure of it. No witness, no federal case, no heat on the club.”

Another silence. Longer this time.

“I need more than that, Wraith.”