Page 50 of Haunting Phantom
“Oh no. Please no.”
My spirit moves before I can stop it, passing back through the wall, mouth dropping in horror when I see each of them crowding behind the building, shooting off shots every few seconds.
“No, you guys gotta run. Move!”
Nobody hears me. They’re too busy fighting for their lives.
A shadow appears nearby, its red eyes blinking, watching me for my next move.
“Don’t just stand there! Do something! Warn them!”
It cocks its head to the side, but stays in the shadows.
“Goddamn it, Phantom. Listen to me. You gotta move! There’s a bomb. RUN!”
Fear plagues his eyes, but it’s not because of my words; it’s because he knows they’re outnumbered.
I have to do something.
He needs to see the danger lurking on the other side.
There’s nothing to throw. Nothing to make him hear me, so I do the only thing I can think of… I focus. Willing my spirit toform in front of his eyes, appearing like a beacon of light and hope.
He blinks a few times, almost like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
“Eve?”
My face only appears long enough to shout the word“Bomb!”before my energy deflates and my image fizzles to nothing.
I collapse to the ground, unable to move from focusing all my energy into manifesting for two unbearable seconds. Everything clicks for him after that. He glances into the window behind him, sees the dynamite strapped to the walls, and reacts.
“BOMB!” he shouts, tripping over himself as he rushes away from the wall. “EVERYBODY GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEIR CLUBHOUSE!”
They only get a few feet away from the building before it explodes, sending their bodies sailing into the air, and the aftermath to rain down on them in a fiery cloud of shrapnel and splintered wood. Sealing their fate.
Chapter Eighteen
No! God, please no.
Even weak, I float to him so effortlessly, placing his head in my lap as I see him struggle to catch his breath, a large piece of shrapnel sticking out of his chest, inches from his heart.
“Baby, please. Wake up. You gotta wake up.”
He groans, but I can see him weakening, his eyes struggling to hang on. There are tears pricking the corners of his eyes that I can’t wipe away, and he gasps for breaths he can barely take.
“Blake, you gotta stay with me. Please, hang on.”
“It’s no use,”the ghost biker says from over my shoulder.“He’s going to die.”
“He can’t die like this. I won’t let him.”
But then I hear his voice from behind me. It’s faint and weak, and makes my soul ache in a way that feels crippling.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Blake questions, curiously staring at his body still gasping for breath in my arms. “For me to die, so we can be together?”
My head swivels to look at him, but he’s just standing there lost and hollow, his soul detaching because he’s teetering between life and death.
“Not like this!”I whisper, still clutching his body the best I can.“I want you to want to be with me.”
