Page 43 of A Witchy Spell Ride
“Phone number?”
“Deleted it.”
“Last name?”
“I never got one.”
Ghost swore under his breath.
I rubbed my hands over my face. “It was one date. He talked a lot about fate. About… energy. I thought he was just new age cringe.”
“And then?”
“I never texted him back. Ghosted him.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me.
Briar muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “fucking men.”
Ghost paced once, then stopped. “Describe him.”
“White. Late twenties. Skinny. Kinda forgettable. But his eyes… they were weird.”
“Weird how?”
“Too much,” I said. “Like he wasn’t looking at me. He was looking through me. Like he already knew what he wanted me to be.”
Briar cursed.
Ghost was already pulling his burner out, typing something fast.
“Do you think it’s him?” I asked.
“I think I need to know who the hell this guy is,” he said. “Because anyone who thinks they’re the answer to your life doesn’t need to be breathing near it.”
I swallowed hard. That echo from the note came back like static: I’m not the danger. I’m the answer. Yeah. It felt like him now. Too much. Too soon. Too intense. One coffee and he was already calling me his twin flame.
I thought it was annoying. I didn’t think it was a warning. Until now.
Ghost looked up. “From now on, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
“Ghost—”
“I’m not asking.”
Briar gave me a look that said just let him, and I sat back. Tired. Scared. And finally starting to realize… This wasn’t the beginning of something anymore. It was the middle. And whoever he was? He thought we were already halfway to the end.
Chapter Thirteen
Ghost
I’d taken down cartel informants with less effort than it was taking to find Adam the fucking barista tech bro.
Briar sat across the table in the back of Cross’s office, legs folded on top of a rolling chair, two laptops open and a tablet in her lap. She looked like chaos in combat boots, but her brain ran like a war machine.
“This guy is a ghost,” she muttered.
I smirked. “Don’t insult me.”
