Chapter 16 #2
“You convinced yourself I was fine all those years ago because it made your hate easier to carry.”
“It wasn’t fake,” I finally get out. “My affection. The life we shared this year. It wasn’t fake.”
“It was,” she snaps. She says it like it’s an undeniable truth.
She inhales deeply, like she’s bracing herself for impact. “Who did you talk to about the why, Ghost? About why I lied?”
“Your father,” I say, the word already rotting on my tongue. “He gave me everything. Sold the story for a bag of snow.”
Her lips twist into something that barely resembles a smile. “Of course he did. Tell me. What did he say?”
I lean back, stare at the ceiling for a moment, as if the memory might hurt less if I don’t look at her while I speak.
“He said he and your mother owed the Verdugos. Cartel debt, drugs. The boss, Sombra, somehow found out I was looking into him, asking questions. Your mother offered a solution. Said she could make me disappear in exchange for their debt being wiped.”
“She made you set me up. Threatened Liz to force your hand, but it wasn’t even necessary.
You didn’t put up a fight because you were already looking elsewhere — at a local cop, Bowie.
And you were so gone for him, you wanted to help his career.
So you made sure to tell him personally to stop me and check for drugs after you planted them on me.
You can imagine it wasn’t hard to believe that story.
You married him. Stayed married for a fucking decade.
And it wasn’t even you the one who filed for divorce. ”
That last part stings like a motherfucker. I didn’t mean it to come out as an accusation, but it definitely did.
She shakes her head slowly, with a bitter smile. “My father… always a master at telling half-truths wrapped in lies. But that’s not what happened. Not really. It’s a perverted version.”
She stares at me, unblinking.
“I’ve carried the guilt like a fucking cross, Ghost. For years. I let your revenge be my penance. But after the circus at the clubhouse, I think maybe I’ve been too blind for too long.”
She exhales, and when she speaks again, she’s calm. Deadly calm.
“So I’ll tell you the truth. My side of it. While my mind is still clear of the shadows. I think it’s time I get to speak now, don’t you?”
I nod.
I have a feeling I might have been ready to believe anything that man said just to justify the pain I was already dead set on inflicting. And now, I’m about to find out if I burned Heaven down for a lie.
She speaks again. Her voice is hollow. Like none of it matters anymore.
“First of all, it wasn’t about a debt.”
Her gaze doesn’t meet mine. She’s staring through me, eyes glassy, face pale under the harsh lights.
“My mother is a vile creature,” she continues. “She’s been Sombra’s mistress for almost twenty years.”
My gut clenches. That fucker has been hiding her well, but then again, I never looked too deep into her either. I was too focused on Adora.
“My father doesn’t care,” she adds. “She gets him drugs, and that’s his version of happy.
He does anything for her just to get his fix.
I’m surprised she hasn’t slit his throat by now, but she likes playing with her victims. Controlling them.
She loved controlling me, too, ever since I was little.
Every part of my life was hers to dictate — what I wore, when and what I could eat, when i could sleep, and so much more.
I didn’t breathe unless she allowed it.”
She lays the words out between us like broken bones.
“And if I disobeyed, I got punished. I learned early how to keep my head down. How to endure. And sometimes, how to trick her and avoid her wrath.”
She falls quiet again. Her eyes drift to the side, unfocused. Like she’s watching the past forcing its way back in. I just sit there, silently, taking it all. Bracing for impact.
“And then I met you,” she says, softer now. “And the more you pulled me into your world, the more control she lost over me. I started fighting back, breaking her stupid rules. She hated that. You have no idea how much it pissed her off.”
Her voice wavers, just slightly. My throat tightens, but I keep still.
“It doesn’t really matter now. That mistake that put you on Sombra’s radar?” she says after a beat. “You made it the night we first met.”
My spine snaps straight. What the fuck?
“Outside the La Jaula bar. In the parking lot across the street. You asked for my number, and before you left, you put your cut back on. My mother was outside smoking, and she saw you. I didn’t know… If I’d known, I never would’ve stopped to talk to you.”
Fuck.
“She didn’t say anything to me. But later, when it was all over — when you were already gone — she told me. Laughed about it. Said she clocked the patch the second you turned around. She knew you were Iron Vultures. Knew you weren’t just some random guy.”
I squeeze the arms of the chair. Rookie fucking mistake. That night… I remember the way her eyes looked under the streetlight. The way I couldn’t stop looking at her. I was so drunk on her I didn’t even think.
“Why the fuck did they wait six months to make a move?” I ask, teeth clenching.
She gives me a small, cold smile.
“Because at first, she wasn’t sure why you were there. Could’ve just been coincidence, right? But she told Sombra, and he started watching. And you kept showing up. Again and again. Hanging around the cartel’s territory. Asking questions. Poking your nose into things that didn’t concern you.”
“I’ve heard my mother talking about Sombra over the years and I’ve picked some things up. He’s paranoid. Really paranoid. Never stays in one place more than a week. Always shifting, always hiding. You fucked with his peace.”
She shifts in bed, her movements sluggish, like her body’s too heavy to carry. I stay frozen in my seat, trying to keep my thoughts from splintering under the weight of it all.
I was such a fucking arrogant prick. Inexperienced. The Verdugos were flooding our territory with their shit. I thought finding the boss and taking him out would make them back off. So fucking stupid.
“I don’t know why he didn’t just try to kill you. That’s a question for him.”
She sighs. Long and tired. Her eyes drift toward the window like she’s looking for escape in the darkness outside.
“The day of your arrest…” Her voice is soft. Fragile, but clear. “I was coming down from my room, ready to head to class. I was meeting you later, remember?”
I do. I remember that fucking day like it was yesterday.
She swallows hard. “I walked into the kitchen, and there she was. My mother. Holding a gun to Liz’s head. My eight year old sister’s head. She was smiling, nonchalant, like she did that shit every day.”
My entire body goes still. Her words wrap around my throat like barbed wire.
“‘You have fifteen minutes to get to the station and file a report that your little biker boyfriend is dealing drugs. The hard kind.’ — Those were her exact words. I’ve never been able to forget them.”
She looks at me, her eyes already shining with tears.
“She said someone connected to the cartel would be waiting for me at the station. They’d know if I did what I was told. She took my phone. Made sure I couldn’t warn you. And maybe… maybe I could’ve done something. Asked a stranger to borrow theirs. Found a way. But I panicked.”
She pauses, shaking her head slightly, lost in the memory.
“I was twenty minutes away. I broke every speed limit to get there. Because I knew she’d pull that trigger without blinking.
She never cared about Liz. Or me. Not really.
We were just tools to her. Toys. Things to control.
I thought maybe I could retract it later, explain it was all a lie.
But I didn’t know the sheriff was cartel-owned.
I didn’t know half the damn precinct was dirty. I didn’t know any of it.”
Her voice cracks, but she keeps going. Steady. Like she’s been waiting for this moment — to finally say her story out loud.
“I didn’t even know your club had problems with the cartel back then. None of it. So I filed the report. I lied.”
She lets out a short, humorless laugh that cuts through the quiet of the room.
“Not that it mattered. They didn’t even need it.
It was just her way of punishing me. Getting her control back.
They’d already planted the drugs on you, Bowie just had to ‘find’ them.
The report was the cherry on top. And my mother?
She needed it. She needed me ruined. Obedient.
She wanted to remind me who my life belonged to. ”
I suck in a breath, everything inside of me unraveling.
“Wait,” I say, voice hoarse. “You didn’t put the coke in my saddlebag?”
She turns her head slowly, expression unreadable.
“No. I filed the report, then I testified against you in court. That’s all I did.” She swallows. “And that was more than enough.”
Fucking hell. My pulse starts racing. All these years — everything we thought we knew — it’s been wrong. We’ve been missing something critical.
“Adora,” I whisper, leaning forward, reaching for something — anything — between us. I want to tell her I’m sorry. I want to say I love her. I want to take every blade I threw at her and cut myself with it instead.
But she stops me cold.
“Don’t,” she says sharply. “I don’t care what you have to say. Not anymore. I’ll finish, and then you can leave.”
Her gaze moves away from me again. Back to the ceiling. To nowhere.
“Bowie was cartel. Still is.”
Fuck me!
“He takes orders and payouts through the sheriff. He met my mother, and she liked him. Really liked him. She loved the idea of him as my husband. Her control, sealed in a nice package. A cop. A clean-cut face. A perfect match for her favorite little puppet.”
She exhales, and I see the years of her life drain out with it.