Page 89 of Emmy's Ride

I curled my fingers around Emmy’s wrist, pulling her toward me. “Come on, sweetheart.”

She followed silently.

My gut twisted, but I had to focus. We piled into the vans, peeling away from the clearing just as more gunfire ricocheted through the trees. The Ghost’s men were coming in behind us, but they were too late.

The second we were clear of the prison, I didn’t slow down. There was no time. No chance to take a breath, to process. We had Luke, barely alive but breathing. We had Raven, shaken but unharmed. And Emmy… Emmy was in shock.

I had seen death a hundred different ways but watching her pull the trigger on Javier was unlike any of them. It wasn’t just about survival—it was personal. She had put an end to the bastard who’d tormented her, but something had snapped in the process. She hadn’t said a word since.

I wanted to stop, to check on her, to do something—anything—but there was no time. We were deep in cartel territory, and The Ghost’s men would be hunting us before the sun was up. Right now, all I could do was concentrate on getting us out alive.

The jungle receded in the rearview mirror, but the tension in my chest didn’t ease. The truck barreled down the dirt road, kicking up dust as we sped toward anywhere away from the hell we’d just escaped.

Headlights bobbed in the distance behind us. The Ghost’s men weren’t giving up easily.

I clutched the wheel, forcing my grip to loosen before I cracked the damn thing in half. Jax was in the back of the truck, working on Luke, and from the curses coming from him, things were worse than we’d thought.

“Damn it, Luke, stay with me,” Jax growled, his voice barely audible over the wind whipping through the open windows.

I dared a glance at Emmy. She wasn’t finding her way out of whatever nightmare held her and that fucking scared me. She sat beside me, stiff as stone, staring at nothing. Not even showing concern for her brother who was fighting for his life behind us.

My gut twisted. I wanted to reach for her, pull her in, tell her she was safe. But I knew better. Emmy wasn’t there. Not really.

Just as I opened my mouth to say something, my phone rang. I cursed and pulled it from my pocket, glimpsing an unknown number before answering. I already knew who it was.

A slow, deliberate chuckle slithered through the speaker.

“You got him. Good.” The Ghost’s voice was smooth, unbothered. “Now let’s see what you’re willing to do to keep him.”

My fingers tightened around the phone. “You son of a?—”

“Tsk, tsk. Such language, Presidente,” The Ghost chided. “Didn’t your father ever teach you any manners?”

A muscle in my jaw ticked. My father. That was new.

“What the hell do you want?” I ground out.

A beat of silence. Then, “Justice.”

The word was spoken so quietly, so coldly that, for a second, it didn’t register.

I exchanged a look with Riot, who had his arm wrapped around Raven in the back seat. She was shutting down, just like Emmy.

“Your father,” The Ghost continued, his tone sharp as a blade, “was a greedy, ruthless bastard. But you already knew that, didn’t you? The difference between you and me, Austin, is that I don’t forget. I don’t forgive.”

My blood ran cold. “What the hell did he do?” I demanded.

Another chuckle. “Oh, we’ll get to that. In time.”

Before I could press further, the line went dead.

Whatever this was—whatever grudge The Ghost held against my father—it had been festering for years, and now I was paying the price.

“Riot,” I barked, shaking off the unease creeping through my veins. “You said you know a place?”

Riot nodded, eyes dark. “Yeah. Another safehouse. We can hole up there, get Luke patched up.”

“Then that’s where we’re headed.”

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