Page 25 of Wraith’s Betrayal

"Car trouble," we said in unison.

Jenkins threw up his hands. "Every single time with you people. Car trouble." He noticed blood drops leading downstairs. "The owner of that blood walking out on his own?"

"Running, last I saw," Quinn offered.

"He pressing charges?"

"Doubt it," Blade said flatly.

"Then I'm going home to my now-cold dinner." Jenkins headed for the stairs, paused. “And Beckett?cYour sister's a grown woman making her own choices. And Wraith? Next time someone needs attitude adjustment, try not leaving DNA evidence in the hallway."

He left. Quinn lingered, grinning.

"This is adorable. The matching guilty-not-sorry expressions." She headed out. "See you all at church tomorrow. Should be entertaining."

Her footsteps faded, leaving the three of us in the wreckage.

"Church tomorrow," Blade said finally. "We settle this properly." He looked between us, something softening fractionally. "You're my sister. Wraith, despite current evidence, you're my MC brother. We'll figure it out."

He left without another word.

Wraith sagged against the wall, adrenaline crashing. I moved to him, fingers gentle on his split lip.

"You okay?"

"Been hit harder." He caught my hand, pressed it to his chest where his heart hammered. "That went better than expected."

"You let him hit you."

"He needed to. And I deserved it." His arms came around me. "But anyone else who tries hurting you⁠—"

"I know." I rose to kiss him, careful of his injuries. "My protector."

"Always."

Two weeks later, the Sunday dinner table at Viper and Tara's groaned under food and laughter. The entire inner circle had gathered—Tara's tradition to "civilize you heathens."

I sat between Wraith and Tiffany, wearing my new cut with pride: Property of Wraith, Pike Creek Riders MC. The leather still felt stiff, still smelled new. The weight of it felt right.

"Pass the potatoes," Blade said neutrally.

Wraith handed them over, fingers briefly touching. A peace offering in side dishes. Not back to normal—might never be completely. But trying.

"Heard Derek Martell left town fast enough to forget checking out of Mountain View Inn," Tara said, bouncing baby James on her knee while Izzy helped set the table.

"Lot of car trouble going around," Phoenix said innocently.

"Epidemic, really," Wolf agreed, arm around Quinn despite her father's continued disapproval.

"To car trouble," Viper raised his beer, presidential authority making it a toast.

"To car trouble," we echoed.

Blade's gaze found mine across the table. Hurt lingered—might always linger. But understanding too. Maybe acceptance, eventually.

"To family," he said quietly, including Wraith in his look. "However complicated."

"To family," I agreed.