Page 71 of Ghost's Obsession

Carnage crosses the factory floor like he owns it. “Slaughter, unlock the side door.”

Grime shifts beside me, mouth twitching like he already knows I’ve figured it out.

“Guess your white knight’s running late,” he says, almost kindly. Waiting a second, he adds, “Or maybe he’s already dead in a ditch somewhere.”

This man knows exactly what he’s doing. He has a cruel heart, like Carnage. I can tell by the look on his face that he enjoys tormenting me.

When Slaughter pulls the door open, fifteen men spill onto the factory floor. They are a throng of bikers in black denim with grimy patches. They’re all armed with shotguns, rifles, and handguns. When I squint my eyes, I see their patches all say Grave Diggers MC.

A man steps forward from the pack. He’s older, wearing a thick beard, and there’s a deep scar running across his throat.

Carnage greets him with the open-armed swagger of someone who thinks he’s back on top.

“About time, Marauder,” he says. “Good to see a friendly face.”

Marauder doesn’t give as warm a reception as he receives. Instead, he says, “The Legion is coming in heavy. I told my men to wait until they see the whites of their eyes before opening fire.”

Another man runs up, just as we begin hearing gunfire outside. He quickly tells Marauder, “The back loading dock is being breached.”

Carnage says, “We hold this floor, let them push in, then box them like rats.”

Marauder says nothing. Just nods once. His eyes flick to me. “Put the woman in the center,” he says in a deep, flat monotone. “Use her as a human shield.”

Carnage laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “No can do, my friend. That pretty little bitch is carrying my kid. I’d normally be up for risking her, but not my kid.”

Six of the Grave Diggers split off, taking positions behind broken bottling lines and sugar silos. The rest start climbing up to the catwalk.

Grime says nothing. He just moves to stand beside me, watching the pieces lock into place, just like he planned. This isn’t a standoff anymore. It’s a slaughter waiting to start.

It isn’t long before the gunfire outside goes quiet. Worry twists in my gut because that either means the Legion has subdued the Grave Diggers or vice versa. If it’s the former, my fate is sealed.

Then dozens of heavy boots on the pavement outside sound strong, making me hope with every ounce of my soul that it’s the Savage Legion, rather than the reinforcements that survived the first battle.

The first sign something’s wrong comes in the form of silence.

Carnage had been pacing, muttering, yelling at shadows. Then suddenly—quiet.

Not the good kind. Not relief.

The younger biker that came in earlier to announce the Legion was here comes running in again. “The Legion dropped our guys, all of them. They’re prying open the loading bay.”

Grime doesn’t look surprised. He’s watching Carnage with a sort of detached interest, like a scientist waiting for the rat in the maze to chew its own foot off.

Carnage spins towards him, stating gleefully, “Let them come. We’ve created the perfect slaughtering floor just for them.”

Marauder barks, “Everyone take their places!”

When Carnage comes near enough to talk to, he tells Grime, “How in the hell did they even find us? I thought it would take them weeks at least.”

Grime just shrugs carelessly with one shoulder. “Someone talked.”

“Who?” Carnage shoots back.

“Take your pick. Joker? Merc?” He flicks the knife lazily in one hand and goes back to scraping at his nails. “Only takes one coward to turn on us.”

Carnage grabs a chair and hurls it across the room, slamming it into one of the machines. “You always said they were loyal!”

Grime smiles, that horrible, crooked smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You said you were a king. We say a fuckin’ lot of things, right?”

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