“Ghost,” I say, voice flat.
He blinks. Looks down at his notes, shuffles some papers. “What?”
“My name. It’s Ghost.”
His face goes blank for a second, then he shakes his head, forcing a smile back. “Well, it’s better to use your real name during therapy. Helps with the—”
I tune him out. He’s talking bullshit and I’m not listening. This one’s a flop, too.
I wait until he pauses, looks at me for some kind of response.
“I don’t like you,” I say, voice even, and end the call.
The screen goes dark. Silence. Fuck.Mama’s going to be so disappointed. But she’ll keep on trying, I just know it.
The months pass by in a blur. I’m careful with my hunting. Careful enough not to rattle the cartel's cage too much, at least not yet. But I know it’s coming. That moment when I’ll have to stop hiding in the shadows and start cracking skulls in broad daylight. I’ll have to get loud.
For now, I’ve been silent enough to keep them guessing. Keep them off balance. I know they’re sniffing around the disappearances. Last night’s victim spilled that much before I sent him off. But they don’t know what to make of it. Not yet.
But fuck, it’s too slow. I’m clawing for scraps of information and Sombra’s a… well, a goddamn ghost! Moving too fast. No pattern. No trail. I’m not close enough.
And in the meantime, I need to keep myself from drowning inside the darkness that clouds my mind every minute of every fucking day.
That numbness? It never left. It made itself at home and took over me completely. I’ve rejected seven therapists so far. Mama’s getting pissed. Frustrated. She doesn’t do well with frustration. But I can’t bring myself to give a shit. How the fuck am I supposed to talk to someone who looks like they’d shit themselves if I even hint at what I did inside those prison walls? They’re all the same. Polished. Perfect. Asking the same bullshit questions.
Why are you here?Because I’m clearly fucked up, asshole. Stupid fucking question.
I’m shadowing my next target, watching him stumble out of a bar, when my phone vibrates. I yank it out, thumb swiping the screen. And my heart drops to my fucking feet.
Myth:Snake attack. Safe. Clubhouse.
I don’t stop to think. I ride through the night, straight to the clubhouse, panic coiling around my spine. Six hours later, it’s still dark outside. I barely throw the bike into park before I’m inside, stalking through the common room. Myth is waiting. He nods once, and points me toward my room.
My legs move on their own, not missing a step. I don’t breathe until I’m inside, door shut behind me, and I finally see her.
She’s sleeping. Breathing. Safe. I sag against the door in relief.
I don’t move from my spot. I watch her sleep for hours, my back glued to the wood like it’s the only thing holding me up.
The panic fades, but the numbness crawls back in. Roots itself back inside my bones. I welcome it. I need it. Because I know what’s coming. She won’t want me here. She’ll ignore me again. Or maybe this time she’ll cuss me out. Throw venom my way. And I’ll deserve all of it. I’ll take all of it. Because even if I tried to, even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to leave this room.
When morning comes and her hazel eyes lock on me — seeing me for the first time in months, not looking straight through me — I already feel like I died a thousand deaths.
My throat locks up, but I force the words out anyway.
“Hello, Adora,” I say, voice deceptively calm, ready for whatever she throws my way.
Her punishment. Her rage. I’ll take it all.
22. Guard
Adora
Imust still be dreaming. Caught in one of those cruel half-sleep nightmares. Because that… that thing leaning against the door? It looks like Ghost. But it doesn’t feel like him. Not even his dungeon version.
The man I knew burned when he looked at me. Fire and fury and heat. Even in his silence, even in his quiet rage, he was alive in my presence. But this man? He watches me with dead eyes. Empty. Unblinking. Like he’s already buried six feet under and this is just his shell.
When he speaks, I don’t respond. Can’t. Something is lodged in my throat. Grief, fury and fear are fighting a war inside me.
