Page 82 of Ghost
“Clear!”
I remain rooted in place, breathing controlled, eyes forward. Any moment now.
The living room door opens. Two men in tactical gear enter, weapons raised. They sweep the room, then one speaks into his radio.
“Primary target located. Room secure.”
Then Steffan fills the doorway.
He’s exactly as I remember and nothing like I remember. Impeccable charcoal suit. Silver temple wings accentuating his distinguished looks. That same commanding presence that once made me feel small.
But now I see what I couldn’t before—the coldness in his eyes. The cruelty etched into the lines around his mouth. The emptiness behind the facade.
For a moment, he stares, clearly shocked to find me standing calmly before him rather than cowering or fleeing.
“Willow.” My name in his mouth sounds wrong somehow. Possessive. Entitled. “This is—unexpected.”
“Hello, Steffan.” My voice remains steady, giving nothing away.
His surprise transforms into that familiar smile—the one that once preceded pain.
“There’s my wayward wife. Though I must say, I’m disappointed to find you standing alone.” His gaze sweeps the room. “Where are your protectors now?”
“I don’t need protection from you anymore.”
His laugh is genuine, which makes it all the more chilling. “Is that so?” He turns to his security team. “Secure the rest of the house. I’d like a private moment with my wife.”
The men nod and exit, closing the door behind them. I know what they’ll find—empty rooms and prepared ambush points where Ryan and the others wait.
Steffan loosens his tie slightly as he approaches. “You’ve led me on quite a chase. Weeks of considerable inconvenience.” He circles me slowly, maintaining distance. Assessing. Looking for weakness. Finding none.
“The evidence you stole—” he begins.
“I didn’t steal anything. I documented the crimes you committed. There’s a difference.”
His nostrils flare—the first sign of the temper simmering beneath his controlled exterior. “Semantics. You took confidential documents from my home office.”
“Our home,” I counter. “And those documents are evidence of arms trafficking, judicial corruption, and collusion with terrorist organizations.”
“My God.” He shakes his head with mock admiration. “Listen to you. So righteous. So certain.” The smile returns, sharper now. “Tell me, did you practice this speech for your new boyfriend? The mountain man who’s been hiding you?”
I say nothing, which irritates him more than any response.
“You think I don’t know about him? About your—protector?” Steffan sneers the word. “Did he enjoy my leftovers? Did you spread your legs for him as easily as you did for me?”
The words are designed to humiliate. To reduce me to the powerless, frightened woman I once was, but they slide off me like water, leaving no mark.
“You always did talk too much.” I take a single step forward. “It’s time to end this.”
His smirk falters at my advance. “Yes, it is.” His hand moves to his jacket, and I tense, expecting a weapon. Instead, he pulls out his phone. “One call, and Drazen’s men eliminate your little band of mercenaries. One call, and you come home with me. Where you belong.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“No?” He moves closer, confidence restored by my apparent defenselessness. “And how exactly do you plan to stop me? You’realone. You’ve always been alone. That’s what you never understood.”
He reaches for my arm, fingers extended to grasp, to control, to hurt—just as they have countless times before.
But this time, I move.
