Page 2 of Wraith’s Betrayal

"Wraith's got both," Phoenix interjected, apparently recovered from shock. "Former Army Intelligence. Scary smart and could kill you with his bare hands before you saw him coming."

"Probably true," I corrected automatically, then wanted to punch myself. Showing off like some prospect trying to impress.

Raven smiled—this slow, knowing thing that said she saw through my quiet act. "Dangerous and intelligent. Interesting combination."

"Alright, that's enough." Blade stepped between us. We'd been gravitating toward each other, the space shrinking without conscious thought. "Raven, let's get you settled at my place."

But first, he turned to address the room, expression shifting from protective brother to stone-cold killer.

"Let me make something crystal fucking clear." His voice carried the authority that had kept soldiers alive in Afghanistan. "This is my sister. My blood. She's off limits. Completely, absolutely, non-negotiably off limits."

He scanned the room, making eye contact with each brother. When he reached me, his gaze held longer, like he'd sensed something in those few seconds of conversation.

"I mean it. Any of you even THINK about touching her, looking at her wrong, having a single impure thought about her—I'll end you. Brother or not. I'll put you in the ground without hesitation and sleep like a baby after."

The threat landed with absolute truth. Blade didn't make empty promises. He'd killed for less in the war, would kill for family without blinking.

"Blade, Jesus," Raven protested, face flushing. "I'm twenty-eight, not sixteen."

"Don't care if you're fifty. These are my brothers, but they're also men. And men are fucking idiots around beautiful women."

She was beautiful. Devastating. The kind of beauty that made men do stupid things like betray their brothers, break sacred codes, throw away everything for just one night.

"Understood?" Blade's question snapped like a whip.

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room. I nodded, even as everything in me raged against it. Understood? I understood I was completely, irrevocably fucked. Because I'd looked at Raven Beckett for thirty seconds and already knew I'd never be able to not want her.

"Good." Blade's hand landed on Raven's lower back, guiding her toward the door. "Let's go. Tiffany's making dinner."

Raven glanced back at the doorway, our gazes locking one more time. That same recognition, that same terrible knowing that this thing between us was already beyond our control.

Then she was gone, leaving jasmine and vanilla lingering in air that suddenly felt too thick to breathe.

"Holy shit," Phoenix breathed once the door closed. "Blade has a sister."

"Blade has a hot sister," Tank corrected.

"Blade has a hot sister he'll murder us for noticing," Viper added, but his attention fixed on me. "You good, Wraith?"

No. I wasn't good. My cock strained against my jeans from a two-minute interaction with my best friend's sister. Already imagining her beneath me, already hearing how she'd sound when I made her come, already betraying every code that mattered.

"I'm fine." The lie tasted bitter.

But my brothers knew better. Phoenix studied me with those too-perceptive eyes. "You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I had. The ghost of my future—one where I either walked away from the only woman who'd ever made my world tilt, or betrayed the only brother who'd ever truly had my back.

The thing was, Blade and I went deeper than just MC brotherhood. We'd met in that shithole VA hospital in Billings, both trying to drink away different wars. He'd been army too—different unit, different demons, same hollow look. We'd gotten drunk, gotten in a fight with some assholes hassling a waitress, and ended up in county lockup together.

That's where Viper found us. Two broken soldiers looking for a purpose. The MC gave us that—brotherhood without the government's bullshit, violence with clearer rules. Blade had my back through my sister Emma's cancer, through the funeral, through the months after when I'd wanted to eat my gun.

And now I wanted his sister with an intensity that felt like drowning.

Three days. That's how long I lasted before everything went sideways.

Blade stormed into the clubhouse Thursday afternoon looking ready to commit murder. I kept my head down, fingers flying over the keyboard, pretending I hadn't jerked off in the shower that morning thinking about Raven's curves, those soft thighs wrapped around my head, hadn't come harder than I had in years with her name on my lips.

"I'm losing my goddamn mind," he announced to the room.