38. Little Killer
38
Little Killer
I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
How could I be so damn stupid?
Ghost keeps talking, his voice steady, void of hesitation. Every word slams into me like a fist to the ribs. He worked for Marklov. The man who nearly ended me. The man who sent monsters to drag me into the dark.
And the worst part? He doesn’t even look phased while telling me.
I stare at him, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I should feel something—rage, betrayal, devastation. But all I feel is… nothing. Just a hollow kind of cold sinking into my bones.
“You knew,” I say, my voice flat, dead.
Ghost exhales through his nose. “I didn’t know who you were at the time, Inés. You were a complete stranger to me, and it wasn’t until after I started learning everything about you I wanted out. And by then—”
“By then, what?” My voice doesn’t rise, doesn’t break. It just is. “It was too late? That I wouldn’t find out? Or that I’d be too fucking blind to care?”
He watches me, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—they betray him. There’s something there, something raw, but I don’t care to name it.
“You have to understand—”
“I don’t have to do a damn thing, Ghost.” I shake my head, the numbness spreading. “You chose this. You chose to stand beside the man who tried to kill me. And you chose to wait until now to tell me.”
The silence stretches between us, thick, suffocating, fuckin’ painful.
Then he says it—the one thing I can’t stomach.
“I was going to tell you sooner.”
A laugh rips from my throat, humorless, sharp. “And I was supposed to do what? Thank you. Tell you it’s fine? That it doesn’t change anything?” I step closer, my voice dropping. “Because it does, Ghost. It changes everything.
He clenches his jaw. “You trust me with your life, and I can sense that from you. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I had to protect you from him. I risked everything for you. My life. My family. My fucking crew.”
I nod slowly. “You’re right. I do trust you… with my life. But now I have to wonder—was that a mistake, too? I didn’t make you do anything.”
For the first time, something flickers in his expression. A crack in the armor. But I don’t wait for him to speak. “So what? You helped him take me? You knew what he was going to do to me?” My voice cracks slightly, and I use everything I can to fight back my tears.
“What? No. Of course not. I tried saving you. I got a call that night from Marklov telling me to fuck off basically because I wasn’t doing what he wanted, I was following you to keep an eye on you, and his men were following me. I was following you to save you from it all..”
“So, did you not think to tell me sooner instead of us fuckin’ around in a dark place where literally anything could happen? The things we did in there, he was probably jacking off to it all.”
“Trust. You didn’t know anything about me, so why would you think I could have just said, ‘Someone is coming for you, let’s go?’ would you have just left and come with me?”
He’s right. I wouldn’t have just taken off with him, but damn, this is such a fucked up situation. I was the one too blind to even tap into my instincts. I had a feeling, but that was it—a feeling. And, of course, I was right, but I was also stupid and reckless.
Looking back, I see every warning sign I ignored—the little red flags waving right in my face. I was blinded, caught in some foolish haze, thinking everything would work out like I was untouchable. But the truth is, my gut had been screaming at me all along, and I shoved it aside. Now, I know better. Sometimes, trusting yourself is the only thing that matters. I won’t make the same mistake again.
I stand there, lost in my own thoughts, the weight of it all settling deep in my chest.
“Exactly,” Ghost murmurs.
His voice is heavy, and when I look at him, there’s something raw in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says, exhaling like the words physically hurt. “I really am. And for what I’ve done… I don’t think I can ever forgive myself. I don’t expect you to, not now. Maybe not ever. But I hope, one day, you can.” He pauses, jaw tight, gaze flickering to the sky as if searching for something that isn’t there. “You’re not the only one who got hurt in all this. He took my little sister, Esmé. I thought I was playing it smart, protecting everyone, but it all blew up in my damn face.”
He shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides.
I swallow hard. My pulse pounds in my ears. “I can’t do this, Gabriel. Not if I don’t know everything that’s going on.”
His eyes snap to mine, sharp and unwavering.
“Tell me everything right now,” I say, my voice cold and steady. “Or I walk.”
Ghost nods his head and purses his lips he doesn’t hesitate. “No more secrets. No more hiding shit from you.”
He nods toward the bikes. “Let’s go.”
I don’t waste another second. I throw my leg over the seat, engine roaring to life beneath me. Ghost does the same.
Our engines growl in unison, the sound splitting through the night.
Then he takes off, and I follow.
The ride is fast, reckless. I don’t ask where we’re going—I just follow.
The air feels so good hitting my body as we weave through traffic, the weight of Ghost’s words still pressing against my chest. He has a little sister, Esmé. My gut curdles. Could it be her? That knowledge changes things, but not enough to erase the betrayal sitting like a stone in my gut.
We weave through the city, then down an open, winding road where a building sits with dozens of bikes sitting in a gravel yard. It’s the clubhouse. When we arrive the place is quiet, but I know better. It would never really be empty. Ghost pulls up first, parking his bike near the entrance. I follow, cutting the engine and kicking down the stand.
He wastes no time.
“Come on,” he says, his voice clipped, serious.
I follow him inside, the familiar scent of whiskey, leather, and cigarette smoke clinging to the air. But it looks to be in great shape. A few guys linger in the main room, but Ghost doesn’t acknowledge them. He leads me straight to a door in the back, punching in a code before pushing it open.
It’s the basement.
I hesitate for half a second before stepping in behind him. The air down here is colder, heavier. The concrete walls seem to absorb all sound, muffling the world above us.
Then I hear it.
A muffled groan. The scrape of metal against the floor.
Ghost flicks on the overhead light, and there—tied to a chair, bruised, bloodied, but very much alive—is a man I never expected to see again.
Marklov.
My heart nearly stops. My breath hitches, and it feels like something is stuck in my throat. I feel angry. Thoughts of everything the devil did to me flashes before my eyes. My steps falter, and I catch myself with the railing behind me.
A sick smile tugs at Ghost’s lips. “I told you no more secrets, didn’t I?”
I exhale slowly, stepping closer, my fingers twitching at my sides.
Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Go ahead, Little Killer. Ask him anything you want. See what kind of answers you get.”
The man groans, his swollen eye barely opening. But when he sees me, I swear I see something flicker in his expression.
Fear.
I take another step, my voice calm, detached. “Let’s start with something simple.” I tilt my head, meeting his gaze.
“Why?” I start. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone!” I shout.
Marklov doesn’t move, his eyes still partially on mine.
My right-hand curls into a fist, and I swing. Another moan escapes from him. Nothing compared to what he has been enduring here with these people.
I look over to Ghost, tears stinging my eyes.
“Why is he here?” As soon as I asked the question, I put two and two together-–for his sister. He must still have not found her. That just puts a bigger gap in my chest.
“Esmé .” His voice almost breaks as he says her name again. “He is our only hope of finding her. He has been here since we burnt his mansion down. And he has still said nothing to help us. We have come so close to putting a bullet in his head and ending him once and for all. However, I figured he might crack slightly if he saw you.”
Fuck this can not be happening right now.