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"Hey, tough guy," I whisper, my voice echoing in the quiet room. "You scared me back there. Don't do that again, okay?"
He doesn't respond, lost in a world of unconsciousness. But I talk to him anyway, filling the silence with stories of the dogs, of our plans for the future. I tell him about the first dog I ever rescued, about the joy I felt when I found him a forever home. I talk until my voice grows hoarse, until my eyelids grow heavy.
When I wake, it's to the feeling of fingers brushing against my cheek. I blink my eyes open to find Ghost watching me, his gaze soft. "Ellie," he rasps, his voice a bare whisper.
"Ghost," I breathe, relief flooding through me. "You're awake."
He gives a small nod, his gaze never leaving mine. "Couldn't leave my favorite dog rescuer, could I?"
His words, light as they are, hold a depth of meaning. I squeeze his hand, my heart full. "No, you couldn't."
The clubhouse is a world away from the sterile confines of the hospital. It's loud and chaotic, filled with the scent of motor oil, leather, and the faint hint of beer. But it's also alive, pulsing with an energy that's infectious. I find myself drawn into it, becoming a part of the brotherhood in a way I never expected.
Ghost is the center of it all, a quiet presence that commands respect. He's still healing, his body a map of scars that tell a story of survival. I've become his caretaker, a role I've slipped into with ease. There's something profoundly intimate about it, about seeing this tough, guarded man at his most vulnerable.
The brothers have accepted me, their initial suspicion fading into a grudging respect. I'm Ellie, the woman who fought beside them, who saved their brother. I'm one of them now, in a way.
I spend my days at Ghost's side, helping him with his recovery. We talk, we laugh, and sometimes, we just sit in comfortable silence. I read to him, my voice filling the room as I weave tales of adventure and romance. Ghost listens, his gaze never leaving my face.
At night, I sleep in his room, curled up on a makeshift bed next to his. The sound of his steady breathing lulls me to sleep, a comforting reminder that he's still here, still alive.
One evening, as the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Ghost looks at me. His gaze is intense, filled with an emotion I can't quite decipher. "Ellie," he says, his voice rough. "Thank you."
I smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand. "You don't have to thank me, Ghost. I'm right where I want to be."
And I mean it. Despite the danger, the fear, and the uncertainty, I wouldn't change a thing. I've found a home here, with Ghost, with the brothers. I've found a place where I belong.
And as I look into Ghost's eyes, I see the same sentiment reflected back at me. We're in this together, for better or worse. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
CHAPTER9
Ghost
The world isa blur of pain and medication when I'm released from the hospital. I'm not a fan of hospitals, too many bad memories, too many ghosts. But I'm even less of a fan of being weak, of needing help. I've always been the one to lend a hand, not the one reaching out for support. But now, I have no choice.
Ellie is there, her presence a constant comfort. She's become my rock, my anchor in the storm. I hate that I need her, that I've become this dependent on someone else. But at the same time, I can't deny the warmth that fills me every time she's near.
When we get back to the clubhouse, I'm surprised to find a new fenced-in area. It's filled with dogs, their eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. Ellie explains that they're the dogs we rescued from the fighting ring. She and the brothers didn't want them to be euthanized, so they brought them here.
I'm touched by their actions, by their dedication to the cause. Shark and Riot, two of the brothers, even put up the fence themselves. They've stepped up, taken responsibility in my absence. It's a strange feeling, knowing that I'm not alone, that there are people who genuinely care about me.
Here is the rewrite in Ghost's first-person present POV:
The sunset bathes the kennel in a golden glow as I make my rounds. The dogs have settled in for the evening, bellies full and wounds tended. They look to me for safety now, these creatures who've known little but fear and pain. I move slow so as not to startle them, letting my size speak protection rather than threat. We understand each other, the dogs and I. We've been through the fire and lived to see another day.
"Ghost." Ellie's voice reaches me from outside the gate. I turn to find her there, haloed in the dying light. Her eyes meet mine and hold. She comes forward until only chain link separates us, peering in at the life I've built here from the ruins of my own.
"You're doing amazing work with them." Her praise settles uneasy in my chest. I shrug it off, gaze dropping to the dogs who are the real miracle here.
"They're the heroes. Been to hell and back, but still standing." My own trip through the flames left marks no one but Ellie has ever seen. Before her, I carried those scars alone.
"So have you." Her words lift my eyes to hers once more. "You went through hell too but came out fighting for those who can't fight themselves."
I glance away, throat tight. "People don't deserve dogs. They're too good for us." I live each day to prove I'm worthy of their trust, as humanity refused my own so long ago.
"Some people do." Ellie reaches through the chain link, her hand light on my arm. "Some people deserve everything good in this world."
I search her eyes, this woman who sees beyond my shadows into light I can't find alone. For an instant, hope flares that maybe I've become a person worthy of her faith—of care and partnership, reward denied for lifetimes until her hand reached out to guide me home. The flash fades but leaves its mark, etched now on my heart: if Ellie believes I deserve the world, perhaps it's time at last I do the same.
