Page 47 of Ghost's Obsession

I suck in a breath. “He helped murder your president?”

“Claw was more than just a club president. He was the founder of the Savage Legion MC,” Ghost explains. “The manwho built our club from the ground up and raised half of the brothers like sons.”

“And the others?” I whisper. “The ones who helped him? What happened to them?”

“Butch was the ringleader,” Tusk says. “Hellfire Hounds’ president, King, shot him when the deal went sideways. Carnage vanished before we could catch him. He turned tail and ran, like the damn coward he was.”

My stomach twists. It’s worse than I ever imagined. I know my ex is dangerous, controlling, and obsessive. But I didn’t know he had blood on his hands. That he turned on the men I now call family.

Ghost doesn’t say anything for a long time. He just stares into his empty glass.

When he finally speaks, it’s quiet.

“I’d kill him for Claw alone. But now that he’s messing with you?” He lifts his gaze to mine. “He’s not walking away again.”

I swallow hard, unsure if it’s fear or something else making my throat tight.

Tusk snorts a wry laugh. “You’ll have to fight Siege for the privilege of taking Carnage out.”

Ghost reaches under the table and takes my hand in his. His rough, calloused hand covers mine, and for the first time since all of this started, I believe these men can keep me safe. Deep down inside, I know that Ghost means every word he says.

***

By the time we make it back to the house, there’s a half-moon shining in the sky, and the air has a sharp, bitter bite to it. Ghost parks the bike and helps me down. I’m surprised when he doesn’t let go of my hand as we head inside.

The night is quiet, with only the hoot of an owl to break the silence as we make our way to the front door. It’s the kind of quiet that settles in your bones and makes you feel safe. A slight reprieve from all the fear and worry I’ve carried these past few months. I see a couple of prospects walking the perimeter.

Once we’re inside, I slip off my shoes and leave them by the door. I go to the fireplace and hand Ghost pieces of starter, watching him build a fire.

When he’s done, he heads to the kitchen and grabs two spoons, motioning towards the freezer.

“You want the vanilla bean or the double chocolate?” he asks over his shoulder.

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that even a question?”

He grins and pulls out the double chocolate. We curl up on the sofa with a blanket draped over our laps, eating ice cream straight from the container. The fire crackles away in the fireplace, slowly warming the big living room. My gaze keeps drifting to Ghost. I like looking at his handsome face while I stuff mine with ice cream.

Ghost leans back, stretches his legs out in front of him, and watches me eat a spoonful.

“You always eat chocolate that slow?” he asks playfully.

I shrug. “It tastes good. I’m savoring it.” I stick out my tongue and lick the spoon.

His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers a second too long.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna forget this is supposed to be the calm part of the night.”

I grin and nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re terribly easy to distract.”

“Only when it comes to you, sweetness.”

We fall into an easy rhythm, taking turns scooping bites of ice cream and stealing glances at each other.

Eventually, Ghost speaks again, quieter this time.

“I’ve been thinkin’…”

When I look at him, his jaw is tight, like he’s trying to talk himself out of saying whatever’s on his mind.

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