Page 16 of Wraith’s Betrayal

That startled a laugh from me. "Exactly. It started small. Comments about my clothes being too revealing. Suggestions about losing weight. Complaints about my friends being 'low class.' Classic manipulation, but it happened so gradually I didn't notice the cage being built."

"When did it escalate?"

"Six months in. I tried to break up with him. Said we weren't compatible." I wrapped my arms around myself. "He showed up at my apartment, wouldn't leave. Said I was confused, that I needed him to think for me since I clearly couldn't make good decisions alone."

Wraith's hands flexed, knuckles whitening. "He put his hands on you?"

"Not... exactly. He was smart about it. Crowding me into corners. Blocking doorways. Making me feel trapped without technically assaulting me. Nothing I could report. Nothing that would leave marks."

"Psychological warfare."

"You sound familiar with the concept."

"Different context, same tactics. Break someone's spirit, you don't need to break their body."

"Yeah, well, it worked. I stayed another six months. Until I found out he'd been sabotaging my friendships, telling people I'd said horrible things about them. Isolated me completely. That's when I knew I had to run."

"So you tried to leave."

"And he destroyed me." The words came out bitter. "Called my boss, told him I'd been stealing proprietary information for competitors. Completely fabricated, but Derek had connections, manufactured evidence. They fired me on the spot. No severance, no reference, nothing."

"That's when you came here."

"After trying two other cities first. He found me in Milwaukee, then Cheyenne. Both times, right when I'd started to settle, the texts would start. Then he'd show up at my work, my apartment building, the grocery store. Never doing anything technically illegal. Just... being there."

"Stalking."

"According to the police in both cities, 'attempting to reconcile with an ex-girlfriend.' He's careful. Knows exactly how far he can push without crossing legal lines."

"Legal lines don't mean shit if someone feels threatened." Wraith pulled out his phone. "What's his full name? Derek Martell what?"

"Derek Anthony Martell III. Why?"

"Because he needs to understand that you're under protection now." He was already typing, probably texting his brothers. "I need to go to the clubhouse, talk to Viper about this."

"I'll come with⁠—"

"No." He stood, energy crackling around him like electricity. "You stay here. Lock everything. Don't answer the door for anyone except me or Blade."

"Wraith, you can't just leave me⁠—"

"I'm not leaving you unprotected. Phoenix will be here in ten minutes to watch the building." He paused, something shifting in his expression. "This is club business now. We handle threats properly."

"You can't just⁠—"

He moved into my space, backing me against the wall—almost the same spot where we'd kissed, but this was different. Protective fury radiated from him, controlled violence held in check by will alone.

"Listen to me." His voice dropped low, intimate despite the topic. "I've been trying to keep distance between us. For Blade. For the brotherhood. For all the reasons that matter. But if you think I'm going to stand by while some entitled prick threatens you, you don't know me at all."

"This will complicate everything."

"Everything's already complicated." His hand came up, thumb brushing my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "The second you walked into that clubhouse, my life got complicated. This just gives me an excuse to stop pretending otherwise."

"Wraith..."

"I'll be back in an hour. Two max. Phoenix will be outside, and I'll have Tank swing by too." His hand came up, thumb brushing my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "Trust me. We're going to handle this properly. No more running."

I wanted to argue, but the relief of not facing this alone, of having someone willing to fight for me, overwhelmed pride. "Okay."