Page 55 of Ghost's Obsession

Siege announces, “Everyone associated with our club lays low. Our old ladies, kids, and club girls stay locked down. No one else needs to bleed tonight.”

There’s a low hum of agreement from the room. Old military instincts kick in for many of us. The way a crew moves when things get dangerous reminds me of sharks when there’s blood in the water.

We all finish gearing up. I check my sidearm. Double-check the blade strapped to my vest. No one speaks to me, but I know they feel what I feel. This isn’t just a takedown. This is closure—for our club, but for our club president most of all. These fuckers have been running free for way too long, and it’s high time we finish this.

***

We hit the road almost immediately. Riding the open road, feeling my bike vibrating under my ass and the wind whipping through my clothes, relaxes me. It also gives me a few minutes to decompress and steel myself for what’s to come. The air gets colder the deeper we ride into the woods. The closer we get to the cabin, the calmer and more focused I become.

We leave the paved road behind and carry on for another ten minutes or so. Our tires crunch over gravel, then dirt, then barely-there tracks that only locals or lunatics would trust. This deep in the badlands of California, people disappear and are never heard from again.

Siege kills the headlights as we crest a ridge. We coast the last stretch, barely enough light from the moon and stars to see where we’re going. This is where everything gets super creepy. I scan the shadows as we roll to a stop, unsure what’s lurking just out of sight.

Tons of pine trees dot the landscape along with briars and bushes. There’s a creek off to the east. One barely discernible dirt path leads towards the cabin—and hopefully straight to Carnage.

Tex and Rigs move ahead on foot, rifles slung low, scanning the brush line with practiced eyes. They look like they’ve done this a hundred times. Because they have.

I stay right behind Siege, with my weapon drawn and pointed down. The woods feel like they’re holding their breath.

Rigs holds up a fist, the old hand signal to freeze. We all obey without thinking.

Siege creeps forward beside him. Rigs points towards a fresh set of boot prints in the mud, then glances back to us and murmurs, “Two sets. Recent. No tire tracks.”

“Someone’s been dropped off,” Tex whispers beside me. “Or walked in from a different trail.”

Siege just nods, and we keep moving.

Tusk pulls up to my left a few seconds later, silent as death. “The hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. How about you?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” I say. “I sense we’re being watched.” I don’t know how to explain it. Something deep and primitive in my lizard brain senses that something’s wrong. I just don’t know what.

Tusk taps the side of his nose and veers off to circle wide through the tree line. He’s going to sniff out trouble. Tex shadows him a few paces behind, blade already drawn.

My ears immediately pick up on the quiet. There are no owl calls, no tiny creatures scurrying about—nothing. Even the bugs seem to have gone silent. The forest feels unnatural, like it’s holding something back.

We spot the cabin just before the trees thin out. It’s a squat, single-level log cabin with boarded-up windows, a rusting metal roof, and a sagging porch. It looks more like a hunting shack that’s seen better days than an actual cabin.

But I know better. Appearances can be deceiving. This place is their home base, the place they stay, store supplies and plan their strategy.

Siege crouches and signals for us to spread out. We fan out so that we’re covering the most ground possible while still keeping each other in visual range.

Tusk, Tank, and Dutch, loop west. I ease forward with Siege, each footstep careful, soundless on pine needles and dirt. The scent of decaying leaves and wet earth fills my nose.

Then I see it—a faint red blink tucked in the brush.

“Trail cam,” I whisper.

Siege follows my line of sight. He nods once, unsurprised. We expected and planned for this. Tex moves up from the left and cuts the cord with a flick of his knife. Now we’re blind to him, but he’s blind to us too.

We keep moving. Siege leans in close. “If he’s inside, we breach fast and hard. Ghost, you’re first through the door.”

What a gift. “Copy that,” I whisper warmly.

Rigs takes the safety off his rifle. I catch his profile in the dark. The man used to have nothing to lose. Now? He’s got a family. And he’s still here anyway.

I nudge him with my elbow. He glances my way, giving me a questioning look.

“You good?” I whisper.

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