“Ghost,” Bones says. It’s a whisper, but it cuts straight through me.
I turn to him, still panting like an animal, chest heaving, fists clenched, teeth bared. He wipes blood from his mouth, his eyes sharp.
“Talk to me.”
There’s no anger in his voice, but there’s something worse — concern.
“I need to know what happened this past year. I need to know how to help you. What you need.”
He searches my face for something, the icy blue of his eyes swirling like a storm. Then he says the only two words that break through the madness in my skull.
“Please,brother.”
The way he says it.
Brother.
He’s not pleading to his club brother. He’s pleading to the kid he grew up with. The one he chose as his own blood all those fucking years ago.
I feel that word digging its way through my flesh, burrowing inside my soul. And it knocks me straight to my knees.
I drop hard, no strength left, just the grief spreading through me. I dig my fingers into my hair and pull, needing the pain, needing anything to anchor me.
I destroyed everything, and I don’t know if there’s anything left to save. Not of her. Not of me.
Bones crouches in front of me but he says nothing. Just waits me out. He looks at me like I’m rabid, foaming at the mouth, too far gone to reason with, but maybe — just maybe — he could find an opening to get to me.
I want to scream. Rip my throat open and pour everything out. But what would that fix? I could howl at the world and it wouldn’t change a thing.
“I fucked up,” I whisper. I don’t know to which one of my fuck-ups I’m specifically referring to, but I know there are enough of them.
Should’ve stopped myself. Should’ve kept my fucking mouth shut. So what if she said his name? So what if she was the onewho set the match to the pyre that burned my life down? What the fuck does it matter anymore?
I love her.
I fucking love her so much it feels like there’s a rusted knife wedged between my ribs, slicing deeper every time I breathe. And I threw her away. I nearly ended her. I could’ve put a bullet right through her skull, watched the light drain from her eyes and told myself it was justice.
But what would I have gained from that?
Would it have given me my five years back? Healed the monster inside me? Silenced the screams in my head?
No.
It would’ve just buried me beside her.
The worst part? I’ve had these thoughts before. They stopped me from finishing it when I was supposed to. After the five months. After the six. Seven. Eight. Nine. I kept pushing the end back, because my soul wouldn’t let me let go.
But the darkness always came crawling back. Always whispered in my ear,Do it. Finish it.
And this time I listened.
Now panic races through my bloodstream like poison.
My head snaps up. “Who went after her?” My voice sounds foreign. “I need to talk to her. I need to—”
We both glance around.
The brothers are watching us, quiet. Weary. Like they’re waiting for round two. Like they don’t know if this shitshow’s over or just catching its breath.
