Page 101 of Ghosted

“I think you know exactly what he’s doing, and you’re still walking into it because you think knowing it’s a trap makes you smarter than the trap.”

“I’m not letting him walk away from this,” Jagger says.

“This isn’t about letting him walk away. It’s about not letting him lead you around by the throat.”

“I’m not scared of Johnny.”

“No.” My voice drops. “You’re scared of what he can do to me.”

He goes quiet, not for long, but long enough that I hear the answer he refuses to give.

It would be easier if I didn’t understand it. If Johnny were only a monster to me.

If all I felt when I thought about him was disgust, fear and the sick black smear he left across my life.

But that isn’t the truth.

The truth is uglier than that.

Johnny terrifies me because he means it. Because when he looks at me, there’s no game of pretend underneath. No line he’s quietly promising not to cross. No hidden softness waiting to catch me if I fall too hard. He makes my body hum in ways I hate because it feels like standing too close to something live and dangerous, wondering what would happen if I stopped being smart for one second.

With Jagger, the fear is different.

Not fake. Nothing about him feels fake. But chosen. Controlled in a way Johnny never is. A door I open instead of one being kicked in. Jagger scares me, but I don’t believe he would ruin me just to prove he could.

Johnny would.

That’s the difference.

That’s why I’m here.

“Don’t go to the warehouse on Friday,” he says. “Stay away from the fight. From the cage. From him.”

I stare at him.

“Are you serious?”

His jaw tightens. “Yes.”

“You don’t get to give orders just because you don’t know what else to do with fear.”

His face hardens, but it doesn’t cover enough. The anger is still messy underneath. Hurt. Cornered. Too honest for either of us to look at straight.

“Alice, just fucking stay away from the fight.”

I laugh, but it comes out wrong. Sharp and shaky. “Fuck you.”

“I mean it.”

“I don’t care.”

“You should.”

“No, Jagger, you should.” I step closer, my voice dropping because if I get any louder, it’s going to break. “You should care that I’m standing right here telling you what he’s doing and you’re still choosing to walk into it.”

His hands flex at his sides. “I’m choosing to end it.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You’re choosing him. Again.”