“Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you! Don’t look like that!” She waves a finger at me. “You know, that idiot biker of yours? He’s definitely going to start circling you like a damn shark. No chance he’s quitting. But…” She leans in conspiratorially, “...if you want to make him suffer? I’m excellent at all kinds of revenge. Petty. Bloody. Any kind you want. I helped my best friend make her asshole crawl. It was awesome.”
Despite myself, a tiny laugh slips out, but it’s gone just as fast. Reality comes crashing down, heavy and merciless. My chest tightens.
“I can’t think about revenge right now,” I admit quietly. “I have to think about where I’m going after they kick me out of here. I don’t have anywhere to go.”
That truth… it breaks something inside me.
I have nothing.
No home. No plan. No one.
Ria goes quiet for a beat. She chews on her lip like she’s calculating something. Then she shrugs, light and easy. Unbothered.
“You can crash at my place.”
My head jerks toward her.
She keeps talking before I can even protest.
“It’s not much. Just a small room. Single bed. Tiny closet. But it’s yours if you want it.” She lifts a brow. “I’m already dying to see Biker Dumbass lose his shit. Watching him beg at my doorstep? That’s gonna be my Super Bowl.”
I frown, weighing it in my mind. I don’t know this woman, but something about her feels… right. Solid. She’s not rattled by Ghost. On the contrary — she looks like she’s thriving on the drama, practically vibrating with anticipation. What the hell do I have to lose? No job. No money. The only family I trust is an ocean away. And the man I fell in love with turned out to be a bigger bastard than I ever thought possible.
I should probably hesitate. I should probably say no. But fuck it.
“I don’t mind small spaces,” I whisper.
Her grin is pure evil.
“Perfect.” She claps once. “Now… let’s make a plan for dealing with Ghostbusters Jr.”
Ghost
I haven’t been allowed back in her room once in the past three fucking days. But I haven’t left the goddamn waiting room.Mama and Pops brought me clean clothes, Tank brought coffee, Bones brought silence and glares. I’ve just been here — sitting, pacing, feeling myself getting crushed under the weight of what I did. And obsessing over everything she told me.
What else has that fucker Bowie done to her during those ten years? Has he… Fuck! I can’t even think it.
She told the staff to cut me off. No updates. No info. I don’t even know when she’s getting discharged. I deserve it, I know I do. Doesn’t make it easier to swallow. Doesn’t make it hurt less.
Right now it’s just me and Tank. He’s on Ria watch today. She’s been showing up every day like it’s her job. Yesterday, I gave up arguing with her and just handed over Adora’s phone. Bones brought it from my room, the one I haven’t stepped foot in since I fucked everything up.
Three days. Three nights. Haunted by the look in her eyes when she whispered those three words.I love you.And I answered with a gun and poison.
I had a chance. I had everything, and I destroyed it in a heartbeat. I buried us both, and the only difference is… her heart actually stopped. Mine just refuses to beat right without her.
There's still so much left unsaid. Shit she doesn’t know. Shit I need to hear. Every name she whispered is burned into my brain. One by one, they’ll all fucking pay.
I’m mid-fantasy, mentally outlining my hunt-and-kill strategy, when I see her.
Adora. In a wheelchair. Ria’s pushing her like she’s in a race, a nurse trailing behind them with a clipboard.
I’m on my feet instantly, moving fast. Ria sees me and starts sprinting. With the wheelchair.
What the actual fuck?
With her short legs, the blonde mini-demon is no match for me. I catch up in three strides.
“Adora,” I say, voice urgent. “Are you okay?”
