28. Ghost
I track Doc down the hallway. My blood is a cocktail of adrenaline and protective instinct, the kind that usually ends with me putting someone in the dirt.
I know Doc. He’s a man who has patched my skin and kept my secrets, but right now, he isn’t the club medic.
He’s a cornered animal, lashing out because he couldn’t protect his cub.
I won’t let that lash land on Angel.
I round the corner into the common room just as Doc reaches the booth where Angel is sitting with Grace. Grace is a steel-spined woman who doesn’t spook easy, but even she flinches at the look on Doc’s face.
Doc doesn’t hesitate. He reaches out and roughly pulls Angel up from the booth.
My vision tunnels. The world turns into a sharp, jagged edge of red. My hand is already moving toward my gun. I don’t care who he is; no one touches her like that. No one puts their hands on my wife with force. I’m half a second away from lunging.
But then, the world stops.
Doc doesn’t scream. He doesn’t shake her. He pulls her into his chest and wraps his arms around her in a crushing, desperate hug. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his broad shoulders shaking with the kind of silent grief that only a father can carry.
I freeze, my hand dropping away from my gun. The air leaves my lungs in a slow, shaky exhale.
Angel looks startled, her eyes wide as she clings back to him. She buries her face in his shoulder. Grace catches my eye from across the table, offering a small, sad nod before she quietly slides out of the booth to give them space.
Doc pulls back just an inch, his hands gripping Angel’s shoulders. His face is a mess—red-rimmed eyes and a jaw that’s working hard to keep from trembling.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice cracked and hollow. “Why did I have to hear it in Church from a stranger? Why didn’t you tell me what that... what he did to you?”
Angel looks down, her hair falling forward to shield her face. A single tear tracks through the makeup on her cheek. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently, Dad,” she whispers. “I didn’t want you to be ashamed of me.”
“Ashamed?” Doc’s voice rises, thick with disbelief.
He cups her face, his thumbs wiping away her tears with a tenderness that makes my throat tighten.
“Angel, look at me. I could never be ashamed of you. You’re my heart. You’re the best thing I ever did. I’m only ashamed you felt you couldn’t tell me. I’ll do better.”
I stand a few feet back, a silent sentinel. I feel like an intruder on a moment I have no right to witness, but I can’t move. I’m anchored by the weight of their words.
Doc finally looks up, his gaze shifting from Angel to me. The murderous rage is gone, replaced by a weary, profound exhaustion. He looks at me for a long beat, his eyes scanning my face as if seeing me for the first time in years.
“Ghost,” he says, his voice steadying.
“Doc.”
“I still want to kill you for marrying her behind my back,” he says, and for a second, the old edge returns to his tone. “I thought you were just taking what wasn’t yours.”
He takes a deep breath, his hand sliding down to grip Angel’s. “But now that I heard what Shade and the British kid said, how you found her. And now that I know you’re the reason that fucker isn’t breathing anymore..”
I just nod. There’s nothing to say. I did what had to be done. I’d do it again until my hands were nothing but bone and gristle.
Doc sighs, the sound echoing through the quiet common room. “Kasia is preparing her usual Christmas spread next week. Too much cabbage and enough pierogi to sink a ship. We... we’d be happy to have our son-in-law there.”
My heart, the cold, scarred organ I’ve spent my life protecting, melts just a little at the edges.
I never had a normal family. I never had a holiday that didn’t involve hiding in the dark or dodging a bottle.
The idea of sitting at a table with Kasia’s cooking and the boisterous, chaotic warmth of a family that actually wants me there...
it’s a concept I can barely wrap my brain around.
I don’t say anything. I can’t. I just nod again, my throat too tight for words. But Angel sees it. She looks at me, a brilliant, watery smile breaking across her face, and I know she understands exactly what this means to me.
I’m going to build it all. Everything I never had—the safety, the loyalty, the house with the big porch—I’m going to build it for her. And now, maybe I don’t have to build it entirely from scratch.
I move forward then, needing the physical contact.
I can’t help it. Thinking about London, about the cold clinical lights of that hospital and the fact that her heart stopped...
it’s a phantom pain that follows me everywhere.
I reach out, sliding my arms around Angel’s waist and pulling her back against my chest.
I bury my nose in her hair, breathing in the scent of her, grounding myself in the reality that she’s here. She’s alive. She’s mine.
Doc narrows his eyes, his professional mask sliding back into place, though the warmth in his eyes hasn’t fully faded.
“Alright, alright,” he grunts, gesturing to the proximity of our bodies. “I said you could come for dinner, I didn’t say I wanted to watch you maul my daughter in the middle of the clubhouse. Keep the PDA to a minimum or I’ll find a way to medically induce a very long nap for you.”
He gives Angel one last squeeze on the arm, a silent promise, and then turns on his heel, heading toward the infirmary with his usual brisk, no-nonsense stride.
Angel laughs softly against my chest, her hand reaching up to cover mine where it’s splayed across her stomach. “He’s coming around,” she whispers.
“He’s trying,” I rumble, my voice vibrating through her. “But if I get a sedative in my mashed potatoes, I’m blaming you.”
“I’ll protect you,” she teases, turning in my arms to face me.
I look down at her, at the woman who survived a monster and still has enough light in her to joke. I think about the house we’re going to buy. I think about the kids we talked about. I think about the fact that for the first time in my life, I’m not just a ghost haunting the lives of others.
“I love you, Angel,” I say, my voice dropping into that raw, honest register I only save for her.
“I love you too, Damien.”
I kiss her, slow and deep, ignoring the catcalls from the few brothers lingering at the bar. Let them watch. Let them see what happens when a man like me finds his soul. I have everything I ever wanted, and I’ll burn the world down before I let anyone take it away.