Page 4 of A Witchy Spell Ride
Chapter Two
Ghost
Thesmell hits me the second I roll through the compound gates, gasoline, sweat, blood, and bourbon.
Home.
It feels like breathing in war and calling it comfort.
I kill the engine and swing my leg off my Harley. Chrome is still hot from the ride, desert dust clinging to my boots. I haven’t set foot in New Orleans in almost a year. Doesn’t mean shit had changed. The clubhouse still leaned like it was daring a hurricane to take a swing. Plywood over the back windows from the last bar fight. One of Rattle’s boots hanging from the flagpole like a warning or a joke.
Vex is the first to meet me.
“Look what the fuckin’ storm dragged in,” he grins, arms wide. I grunt and pull him in anyway. My blood brother.
“You still alive?” I mutter.
“Barely. Reaper runs a tight goddamn ship.”
“Good.”
He steps back and gives me a once-over. “You look meaner.”
“I am.”
“Hotter too. You do prison time without telling me?”
“No prison,” I say, then add, “This time.”We both laugh, though mine is quieter.
Inside, the clubhouse is chaotic. Bones has a girl on his lap and a bottle of whiskey in each hand, like he is trying to prove balance wasn’t just for tightrope walkers. Cross sits at a corner table with a laptop and a pile of receipts, muttering numbers to himself like he is trying to summon demons with math. Rattle and Ash are in the middle of a bet involving knives and a dartboard, both already half drunk and shouting insults loud enough to shake the walls.
Reaper isn’t in sight yet, but he knows I am here. That man misses nothing.
I drop my duffel behind the bar and take the beer Vex slides my way. Cold. Bitter. Just how I like it.
“What’s the real reason you’re back?” he asks, leaning on the counter.
“Club visit. Restless.”
“Bullshit.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”Before he can press, the front doors open again. And everything in me goes still. Selene walks in like sin wrapped in leather and attitude. Same eyes I remembered. The same mouth that used to mock me when we were kids and I couldn’t figure out my bike’s clutch. She’s grown into all the sharp corners, jawline tight, hair long and dark, tattoos peeking out from beneath a rolled-up sleeve.
Behind her, Briar practically skips into the room wearing a leopard print crop top, combat boots, and the energy of a raccoon in a Red Bull factory.
“Hide your knives,” Vex mutters beside me. “It’s the chaos twins.”
Briar makes a beeline for Cross, jumps in his lap, kisses his cheek, then steals one of his receipts and folds it into a tiny paper crane while he glares at her like he was doing taxes in hell.
Selene, meanwhile, scans the room. Doesn’t look at me at first, didn’t have to, she knows I’m here. We all grew up in this world, her, Vex, me. Her brother Reaper watching over everything like some brooding biker god, Cross keeping the books, the rest of us following orders and spilling blood.
But Selene has always been something else. Not just Reaper’s little sister. She is fire with no leash.And I’ve wanted to get burnt since I was seventeen. She finally looks at me. One second. Two. Then she blinks, cool and collected.
“Ghost.”
“Selene.”
Briar flops onto the barstool beside me and sticks her face in my beer. “Are you gonna finish that? I raise a brow. “You want a glass?”
