Chapter Four
Ghost
“Baby, come to bed,” I groaned, my voice rough with exhaustion.
The room’s air felt heavy, thick with Mellie’s anxious pacing.
She paused only to glare out the window, arms folded protectively around her stomach.
Ever since Sinclair had shown up in Albin, Wyoming, she’d been wound tight, a storm bottled up inside her.
I couldn’t blame her. Seeing Sinclair offer his help solidified that things were getting bad back home.
Nav had told me in confidence that King, Reaper, and Montana were calling in every marker they had to protect the old ladies and kids.
However, it was the thought of my brothers prepping for war without me that made my chest ache, but Mellie was pregnant and terrified.
When she begged me to stay, there was no way I could walk away from her.
She stopped in the middle of the floor, her jaw set. “Why did he bring us to North Carolina? Why not California?” Her voice trembled, frustration laced with fear.
I let out a long breath, rubbing my tired eyes and leaning back against the headboard.
“I don’t know, babe. All I do know is that King is working with Reaper and Montana to get everyone out of dodge before shit hits the fan.
” There was a bitter taste in my mouth at the thought.
I hated hiding, hated this sense of helplessness.
Mellie muttered, “Stupid biker war,” her words muffled as she ran a hand across her flat belly, fingers trembling. I caught a trace of fear in her eyes and, despite everything, chuckled softly—an attempt to lighten the mood that fell flat.
“Just so we’re clear,” I said, trying to keep my voice gentle, “King and the others didn’t start this war.
The Death Dogs did. They’re only preparing in case shit goes sideways.
” My hands clenched the blanket, knuckles white.
The weight of what my brothers could be facing without me pressed down on me.
She spun on me, her glare sharp as a knife.
“Which it will,” she snapped, voice cracking.
“And my brother and best friend are still in Nebraska.” I could hear the panic rising in her throat—her brother Gunner, the club’s sergeant at arms, was her only remaining family.
And Haizley, her best friend since college, was practically her sister. Both still in the thick of danger.
“Gunner isn’t gonna let Haizley stay,” I said softly, reaching for her hand, but she pulled away.
My heart twisted. “Trust me, babe. When there’s a safe place for her, Gunner’s gonna tie her ass to a seat and make sure she leaves.
” I pictured Gunner—big, stubborn, fiercely protective—doing exactly that.
Mellie’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “But he’s staying. Isn’t he?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and I felt her fear like a cold wind through the room.
I took a shaky breath as the silence stretched between us.
“Babe, your brother is the sergeant at arms of the club—third in command after King and Cash. He has to stay.” My words felt like a death sentence.
I watched her shoulders shake as she tried to hold it together, and I wished, not for the first time, that love could be enough to keep us all safe.
“Baby, come here,” I said softly, my voice gentle as I reached out for her hand once more.
When she hesitated, I guided her toward me, drawing her onto the bed.
Wrapping my arms around her, I held her close, feeling her body tremble as she quietly cried against my chest. I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and whispered, “Everything is going to be okay.” I wanted to believe it, to make her believe it too, even as my own fears threatened to overwhelm me.
She shook her head, her voice raw with emotion. “You can’t promise that, Travis.” The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything we couldn’t control.
I rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles, searching for the right words. “No, but I feel it,” I murmured, my voice steady. “I can’t explain it. I just know that when the dust settles, everything will be as it should be.”