Page 70 of Ghost
“Or keep it in-house?” Forest counters. “Build our case, get Reynolds stripped of his power before he knows we’ve struck.”
Mitzy’s eyes don’t leave mine. “And then there’s you, Willow.”
My breath catches.
The room goes quiet.
Not the uneasy silence of fear—but the kind thatcomes before impact. Like the pause between thunderclaps. Everyone is watching me. Waiting.
Mitzy meets my gaze, steady and unflinching. “You’re the key witness. We need to know what you want. Do you testify? Go public? Help us bring him down from the inside?”
“Or disappear,” CJ adds, his tone low. “New name. New life. You’d be safe—but always looking over your shoulder.”
The breath catches in my lungs.
Disappear. Safe, quiet, forgettable. No courtrooms. No microphones. Just shadows. I could be a ghost, and survive.
Or…
Testify. Speak the truth aloud. Name names. Face Steffan in a courtroom and drag him into the light.
Mitzy lays it out in two clear paths. Forest folds his massive arms across his chest. His voice is deep, calm, and final. “If we do this, it’s scorched earth. We go after everyone.”
Skye, poised and calm beside him, adds softly, “And we paint a target on your back. Testifying means exposure. Hearings. Media. And Steffan will come after you with everything he has left.”
Ryan speaks next, voice quiet but fierce. “But it’s the only way to make it stick.”
Jackson leans forward, scarred knuckles braced against the table. “You want him buried, not just wounded?” His stare pins me. “You need to look him in the eye when you slam the cage shut.”
I stare down at my hands, laced in Mason’s. His thumb strokes slow circles across my knuckles. The heat of his skin grounds me.
They’re all right.
One path means safety, but silence. The other—is fire.
And I’m so tired of being afraid.
I lift my head. My voice is quiet, but steady.
“I want to testify.”
The tension shifts. Not gone—but different now. Controlled. Directed.
Ryan lets out a short breath and slaps his palm against the table. “Let’s burn this motherfucker down.”
A low rumble of agreement moves around the room. Forest nods once. Jackson smiles—grim and satisfied. Skye is already opening her laptop. CJ starts tapping on his tablet. All I can feel is Mason’s hand tightening around mine. His eyes on me, full of pride and something deeper I can’t name.
Because I didn’t choose to survive.
I chose to fight.
TWENTY
Mason
Sunlight slicesthrough the window blinds, casting gold bars across Willow’s sleeping form. I’ve been awake for almost an hour, just watching her breathe. The rise and fall of her chest. The soft flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks. The way her body curls instinctively toward mine, even in sleep.
Ten days. Ten days since we arrived at Guardian HRS’s mountain fortress. Ten nights with her in my arms. Ten mornings waking up beside her, still half-disbelieving that she’s real.
