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I was death. And there would be no mercy.
Sitting at the table, my gaze roamed over the faces of my brothers. The men who had become my family. We had shit to figure out and the club was going to face some hard times ahead but I didn’t doubt we would figure it out.
We always did.
Church ended and we rose to our feet, sharing a few bottles of whiskey before we left the chapel. My mind was preoccupied with a load of shit I didn’t need clouding my head space and I approached my pres, giving him a chin lift.
“You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, Wraith.”
If he only knew.
Grim’s hand clasped down on my shoulder like he’d done a hundred times before tonight. Like everything was normal, except nothing about my life was fucking normal. Hadn’t been since the day I accepted the Devil’s Ride. Shit was about as fucked-up as it could get and wasn’t going to change anytime soon.
Didn’t matter as I watched the shocked expression of my pres as Grim’s fingers sank through my body like I was made of nothing but air, his feet stumbling, nearly slamming face first into the nearest wall. The stricken look of panic on Ex’s face was like a knife plunge into my heart as he rushed to his feet at the same time Mammoth prevented Grim from hitting the wall with one meaty fist. His arm shot out and Grim bounced off my V.P.’s chest, momentarily confused.
Chaos erupted in the room. No one knew what to say or do. They didn’t understand my condition or the reasons behind it. That was my well-hidden secret.
I didn’t tell the others about my little problem. Not even Grim.
My best friend was scared as fuck because Exorcist knew exactly how dire the situation was without saying a word. All I could do was flinch like a little bitch, pathetic as it was. I knew what they all saw. I’d seen it often enough in the mirror in my bathroom at the Crossroads.
A pale flicker of the Royal Bastard brother they all counted on.
It was ironic as fuck.
How long will it take before I disappear altogether?
My nickname was supposed to be a joke.
Wraith.
Given because I knew how to make people disappear. Diablo wasn’t the only one skilled in that area. I liked to steal souls in the dead of night. I got off on the terror and thrill of the kill, of seeking justice and watching a man’s wretched soul leave his sin-ravaged body. The knowledge that I left men weak and falling to their knees, petrified with terror as they screamed got me off like some sick freak.
I was fearless when I stood before Lucifer at the moment of my death, promising retribution without an ounce of regret for the man I would become. It was my calling, my destiny, and also my curse.
Because like it or not . . . I was nothing but a goddamn ghost.
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