I pause. Breathe.
“And when he finds her, years later, he threatens to use his money and connections to take full custody of the kid if she doesn’t go back with him.”
I shake my head. “He doesn’t have the ‘being an orc’excuse. He deserved to die alone. That should’ve been his ending.”
“He was mafia,” Ghost says. “He had a territory war going on. He was trying to protect her from his enemies.”
“Oh?” I smirk. “So if you were at war with another MC, you’d do the same thing?”
His eyes darken. He takes a step. Leans forward. Close. Too close. I suck in a breath.
“Adorable,” he murmurs, voice dangerously low, “I’m the type that kills everyone. I wouldn’t lose you because of some fuckers.” He straightens. Licks his bottom lip, eyes still locked on me. “Just so you know, I’ve already sent thirteen Verdugos to hell.And that’s me pacing myself. But if I have to cut down all two hundred something of them to get to Sombra and your mother, then so be it. They’ll pay for what they did to you. That’s a given.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. My heart beats faster. I’m almost hypnotized.
“And when I get you back, that’s it. I’m never letting you go again. No matter what.”
That snaps me back.
“WHENyou get me back?” I snap, rage boiling over. “Your crazy is showing again, Ghost.” I glare at him with everything I’ve got. “You’renevergetting me back.”
“We’ll see,” he murmurs.
“No, we won’t!” I yell, throwing my arms in the air, desperation taking over. “Stop saying that.”
In my rage, I grab my pillow, toss it off the bed, and snatch the four notes I hid beneath it.
“And what the fuck is up with these things?” I demand, holding the pieces of paper in front of his face.
There’s a few seconds of silence where only my ragged breathing fills the room. I have a feeling I fucked up.
A barely-there smile lifts the corners of his lips.
“You kept them,” he whispers.
I definitely fucked up. I shouldn’t have shown him the notes.Shit.
I toss them back onto the bed and glare at him. In for a penny, in for a pound.
“Answer the question, Ghost. Explain yourself. Why do you say the same words to me every morning, and then leave a note at the bookstore?”
He lifts his arm and gently brushes his knuckles over my cheek. His touch is warm. It feels like a happy memory from so long ago. Like an unspoken promise lost in time, finding its way back.
I almost lean into it. Almost.
“You said that all you hear now, when you look at me, are the words I spit at you that day. The lies,” he murmurs. “So I’m trying to replace them with the truth. With the real way I see you.” He smiles, and it’s a little sad. “I whisper the truth to you every morning. And then I write it down so it doesn’t get lost. So you’ll always remember it.”
He leans down, meeting my eyes.
“Don’t cry, adorable,” he says, wiping a tear from my cheek.
I didn’t even realize I was crying. I drop my forehead against his chest, trying to hide. Trying to run when there’s nowhere to run.
“Keep doing it,” I say, my voice shaky and quiet.
Maybe one day I’ll believe them. Maybe one day I’ll remember more of the good than the bad. Maybe one day it won’t hurt this much.
He wraps his arms around me, his chin resting on top of my head. I know I’ve lost today’s battle. But right now, I don’t feel like I want to win. Right now, I feel like I need to lose myself. Just for a moment.
