Page 60 of Emmy's Ride

I swallowed hard. “What did you do to him?” I whispered.

He smiled. Too wide. Too pleased. “I had him killed.”

The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.

No. No, it couldn’t be true.

But the look in his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

My stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. My brother—gone. Murdered. And I was next.

Tears burned in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

The Ghost tilted his head, studying me. “But don’t worry, darling. Luke still owes me, and now…” His hand slid lower, tracing my throat, then lower, the threat clear.

“You’re his payment.”

Then he reached for my shirt, gripped the fabric, and tore it open.

As his fingers grazed my skin, cold and impersonal, my entire body recoiled. Disgust. Terror. Rage. They all slammed into me at once, twisting into something jagged and volatile inside my chest.

His grip tightened on my chin, forcing me to look up at him, his sick grin growing as he drank in the fear in my eyes.

“She’s a fighter,” he mused, his tone almost appreciative. “That’ll drive the price up.”

Price?

He tsked, trailing a finger down the exposed skin of my chest.

“Shame you’re not a virgin,” he sighed, mocking disappointment dripping from his voice. “Could’ve fetched at least double even at your age.”

Oh, God.

Dark market. Trafficking. The realization hit like ice in my veins.

Money. That’s what I was worth to him. Just a fucking transaction.

I wanted to scream. Wanted to rip his throat out.

But I was trapped with my hands still taped behind my back. Vulnerable.

His hand moved lower, rough fingers closing over my breast, squeezing painfully.

No.

No.

Pure, blinding rage exploded inside me.

I lashed out—fast and brutal, sinking my teeth into his wrist.

The Ghost snarled, jerking back, but not before I bit down harder, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

His other hand came crashing across my face, the force of the slap sending me reeling, my vision swimming.

Pain exploded in my jaw. I stifled a cry, my head snapping to the side, my ears ringing from the blow.

Before I could recover, fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back.

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