Chapter 17
Adora
Now that the hospital staff managed to drag Ghost out, I finally turn my attention to the tiny woman still standing at the foot of my bed.
She’s been watching the whole circus unfold like it was the best telenovela she’s ever seen. There’s a glint in her eyes, gleeful and borderline unhinged, and a smile on her face that’s not pitying or uncomfortable. No… that smile looks deeply satisfied. Like she lives for crazy shit.
“Hi,” I rasp, my throat still raw. “I’m Adora. I think I owe you a thank you… for saving my life.”
Her smile stretches impossibly wider. Bright. Almost blinding.
“I’m Azaria,” she chirps, “but everyone just calls me Ria.” She jerks her thumb toward the door Ghost got dragged out of.
“And no thanks are necessary. Trust me, you already paid me in full. That show? Chef’s kiss.
Absolutely delicious. Watching a biker go into self-destruct mode? That’s my favorite thing ever.”
I blink at her.
What… Who is this woman?
She crosses her arms, and tilts her head like a curious cat. “How are you feeling? Any…,” her lips purse, eyes looking briefly at the wall behind me, “...lingering urges in that head of yours?”
God. She really doesn’t beat around the bush, does she?
“No.” My voice comes out small, tired. “No urges today.” I pause. “So you know the Vultures?”
She snorts, full of mockery. “Unfortunately. Been having a grand old time torturing their fearless leader. He hurt my best friend. Apparently, these guys can’t help themselves with women, huh?”
My smile falters. That hits too fucking close.
“Yeah,” I whisper, throat tight. “Seems like they’re experts at that.”
She startles, a quick jolt of movement, then hurries to my side like instinct kicked in before thought could catch up.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you! Don’t look like that!
” She waves a finger at me. “You know, that idiot biker of yours? He’s definitely going to start circling you like a damn shark.
No chance he’s quitting. But…” She leans in conspiratorially, “...if you want to make him suffer? I’m excellent at all kinds of revenge.
Petty. Bloody. Any kind you want. I helped my best friend make her asshole crawl. It was awesome.”
Despite myself, a tiny laugh slips out, but it’s gone just as fast. Reality comes crashing down, heavy and merciless. My chest tightens.
“I can’t think about revenge right now,” I admit quietly. “I have to think about where I’m going after they kick me out of here. I don’t have anywhere to go.”
That truth… it breaks something inside me.
I have nothing.
No home. No plan. No one.
Ria goes quiet for a beat. She chews on her lip like she’s calculating something. Then she shrugs, light and easy. Unbothered.
“You can crash at my place.”
My head jerks toward her.
She keeps talking before I can even protest.
“It’s not much. Just a small room. Single bed. Tiny closet. But it’s yours if you want it.” She lifts a brow. “I’m already dying to see Biker Dumbass lose his shit. Watching him beg at my doorstep? That’s gonna be my Super Bowl.”
I frown, weighing it in my mind. I don’t know this woman, but something about her feels…
right. Solid. She’s not rattled by Ghost. On the contrary — she looks like she’s thriving on the drama, practically vibrating with anticipation.
What the hell do I have to lose? No job.
No money. The only family I trust is an ocean away.
And the man I fell in love with turned out to be a bigger bastard than I ever thought possible.
I should probably hesitate. I should probably say no. But fuck it.
“I don’t mind small spaces,” I whisper.
Her grin is pure evil.
“Perfect.” She claps once. “Now… let’s make a plan for dealing with Ghostbusters Jr.”
Ghost
I haven’t been allowed back in her room once in the past three fucking days.
But I haven’t left the goddamn waiting room.
Mama and Pops brought me clean clothes, Tank brought coffee, Bones brought silence and glares.
I’ve just been here — sitting, pacing, feeling myself getting crushed under the weight of what I did.
And obsessing over everything she told me.
What else has that fucker Bowie done to her during those ten years? Has he… Fuck! I can’t even think it.
She told the staff to cut me off. No updates. No info. I don’t even know when she’s getting discharged. I deserve it, I know I do. Doesn’t make it easier to swallow. Doesn’t make it hurt less.
Right now it’s just me and Tank. He’s on Ria watch today. She’s been showing up every day like it’s her job. Yesterday, I gave up arguing with her and just handed over Adora’s phone. Bones brought it from my room, the one I haven’t stepped foot in since I fucked everything up.
Three days. Three nights. Haunted by the look in her eyes when she whispered those three words. I love you. And I answered with a gun and poison.
I had a chance. I had everything, and I destroyed it in a heartbeat. I buried us both, and the only difference is… her heart actually stopped. Mine just refuses to beat right without her.
There's still so much left unsaid. Shit she doesn’t know. Shit I need to hear. Every name she whispered is burned into my brain. One by one, they’ll all fucking pay.
I’m mid-fantasy, mentally outlining my hunt-and-kill strategy, when I see her.
Adora. In a wheelchair. Ria’s pushing her like she’s in a race, a nurse trailing behind them with a clipboard.
I’m on my feet instantly, moving fast. Ria sees me and starts sprinting. With the wheelchair.
What the actual fuck?
With her short legs, the blonde mini-demon is no match for me. I catch up in three strides.
“Adora,” I say, voice urgent. “Are you okay?”
Nothing. Not a twitch. Not a blink. She doesn’t even acknowledge I exist.
“Go away, Spooky-Boo,” Ria snaps, eyes blazing. “She’s not your problem anymore. I thought three days of radio silence would clue you in. Is your head a coconut?”
I glare at her, jaw clenching. “Stay the fuck out of this, Thumbelina.”
Tank inhales sharply behind me like I just set off a grenade.
But Adora still doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even breathe in my direction. She’s pale, still, and something’s wrong. Is she sick? Dizzy?
I reach out, gently, just a hand on her shoulder — and she screams. Fucking screams. Loud, like I just burned her.
I jerk back, eyes wide, mouth open.
“Ria,” she gasps, turning to the blonde source of evil. “Hurry! I felt something! Something touched me! I think this hospital’s haunted!”
My brain stalls. What?
She scrambles to her feet, wobbly and breathless, still not sparing me a single look. Her eyes are on Ria like I don’t even exist.
“Run, Ria, run!” she yells, flailing her arms like she’s in a low-budget horror movie. Then she limps away. Full speed.
Ria’s right behind her, sprinting like she’s been waiting for this moment her whole life.
The nurse is frozen. “Please don’t run, Miss! You’re not cleared for—!”
Too late.
Tank bursts into laughter. “You’re so fucking screwed,” he mutters, jogging after them.
I’m still standing there, processing what the fuck just happened, when I realize they’re already out the doors.
I break into a run.
Aaaand I’m late. Griffin’s outside. Van idling, door open.
She slips inside and they’re gone. Just like that.
And I know, I just know — the fight of my life starts now.
I follow the van on my bike, tires eating the road, fury chewing through my veins. They head straight to Ria’s shop. I remember Tank mentioning she has a place above it, second floor.
This fucking woman. I didn’t think she’d take Adora in. Didn’t plan for it. And that little stunt at the hospital? What the fuck was that?
I feel like I’m stuck playing checkers while they’re out here playing 4D chess. Like they’ve already mapped the whole damn board ten moves ahead and I’m just scrambling after them.
I park the second they do, Tank pulling in beside me, stone-faced.
“Adora!” I bark the second she’s out of the van. “What is going on? What the hell was that performance at the hospital?”
She doesn’t give me anything, not one fucking twitch. She just walks, calm, like I’m nothing more than background noise. Not even that.
“Thanks, Griffin!” she calls over her shoulder, her voice like fucking honey. “See you tomorrow for coffee.”
She smiles at him. Sweet. Soft. Sweet!!!
That motherfucker grins back, completely unfazed by the fury radiating off me like fire. Just gives me a lazy shrug before walking away. He’s playing with Death. I glare daggers at his back, but I don’t have time to turn him into a cautionary tale. Not yet.
I stalk toward Adora, jaw tight, ready to grab her attention and demand some goddamn answers out of her, when Ria steps right in front of me. Arms crossed, hair bouncing like she’s in a shampoo commercial. She's five foot nothing and somehow blocks out the sun.
“Move,” I growl. “Now.”
“Watch it, Ghost,” Tank warns behind me, voice clipped.
“No chance, Haunt-Me-Not,” Ria fires back, eyes glinting with challenge, her curls somehow bigger than a moment ago.
I’ll straighten them if she keeps acting like this.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you. Take the loss.
Let her rest. She doesn’t need your biker drama clogging up her recovery.
She needs space. And she needs healing.”
Her words hit like a gut punch. I don’t even mask the flinch. They sting because they’re true.
I swallow hard, trying to cage the monster clawing in my chest, then take a breath. The kind that shakes something loose in your ribs. Then another.
“Fine,” I grit out. “Today. She has today.”
“That’s what you think, Spookzilla,” she mutters under her breath.
I round on her, eyes narrowed. “Keep pushing, Frodo. See how far you get.”
Tank growls behind me, but Ria just smirks. That fucking smirk sends a shudder through me, but I don’t say another word. Just swing my leg over my bike, kick it alive, and ride away with my heart in shreds and my soul dying every second.