Chapter 19
Ghost
Morning finds me on the edge of the bed, back hunched, violin on one side, bow on the other. I stare blankly at the wall like it might give me the answers I need. It doesn’t. Just stares right back.
I should’ve been in the kitchen by now. Coffee brewing.
Eggs sizzling. Her favorite mug waiting on the counter.
She’d still be in bed, hair a mess, blanket tangled around her legs.
Maybe I’d wake her with a kiss. Maybe I’d drag her into the shower, steal a lazy morning in warm water and whispered jokes.
Maybe we’d read. Watch something stupid.
Spend the day naked together and touch each other like we had forever.
So many fucking maybes.
All dead now.
I killed them. Killed her. Killed myself.
The future we could have had is rotting in my hands, and there’s no glue in the world strong enough to put it back together.
Only one thing left to do now. Hunt and kill. And maybe, if I’m lucky, bury the rest of the man she used to love.
I rise slow, every muscle stiff. Leave the violin where it is. It’s useless to me right now. The only music left in me is war.
I’m halfway to the shower when the door creaks open. Only one person walks into my room like that, and it’s not one of the brothers.
“Pumpkin,” Mama says, voice hard. “I made you breakfast. We need to talk.”
I sigh, and drop my head. “I don’t have time, Mama. But thanks.”
“You do have time,” she snaps, and now her voice is all fire.
“You refused to say anything these days and I’m done waiting.
You think I’m just gonna stand by and watch you implode?
If you don’t start talking to someone — anyone — I’ll drag Pops in here and let him knock some sense into you.
Don’t think that’s an empty threat! It doesn’t matter that you're a grown-ass man!”
Her glare could cut stone. Plate of food in one hand. Disappointment in the other. She’s not playing.
There’s a shift in her expression, and that’s when the real fucking hit comes. The one that cracks straight through the armor I’ve barely managed to keep on. Her eyes soften. And just like that, I’m a kid again.
“I’m worried about you, Dominic,” she whispers. “I’ve seen this before with you, years ago. I know the signs. Don’t go back to that place. Please.”
I don’t meet her eyes. I can’t.
“I’ll be fine, Mama,” I murmur. But we both know I’m lying.
She sets the plate on the small table by the door, then turns to me with a tilt of her head and that look. The one that used to make me confess things before she even asked.
“I don’t know where I went wrong with you boys,” she says softly, sadness creeping into her voice. “First Kane, now you.”
Then her eyes narrow, arms crossing tight over her chest. “It’s all Pops’ fault! When I was trying to teach you right from wrong, he was teaching you how to wield a knife! Of course that was more interesting to two wild little hellions,” she huffs, exasperated.
Somehow, she just managed to drown me in shame and make me smile at the same time.
Her voice shifts. Gentle, but coated with steel.
“I want to know what happened with Adora, Dominic.” Her gaze sharpens, piercing right through me. “Why did you even go near her in the first place? She was a kid herself back then. There were bigger fish who were involved in what happened to you. So why her?”
She shakes her head. “I told you years ago — let her go. She was young. She had no choice. It was clear. But you still went for her. And now look at you.” Her voice starts to break. Her eyes glass over with unshed tears.
Fuck. That slices me straight through.
I move to her in two strides, and wrap her in my arms tightly.
“You were right,” I whisper against the top of her head. Her hair smells like it always has — lavender and mint — and it brings me the smallest piece of comfort. “I’m sorry, Mama. I know I disappointed you.”
She holds me tight, fingers digging into my back like she’s trying to piece me back together.
“My head’s a mess,” I admit, voice barely there. “I never came back right from prison. I thought I could just outrun it, but all I did was destroy everything. I need help.”
She leans back, just enough to look up at me. Her eyes shine, fierce and full of a love that burns even when everything else has gone cold.
“Then we’ll get you help, pumpkin,” she says. “But you have to want it. Really want it. You never did before.”
I take a step back, shame pressing down on me. “I hurt the woman I love in the worst possible way. There is no redemption for me. Ever,” I say, my voice wrecked with grief.
I look at her, feeling the words getting stuck in my throat. But I force them out anyway. “I can’t even go near her. It would only hurt her more. Just to see me.”
Mama nods slowly. Carefully.
“Then give her what she needs, Dominic. What she wants. Even if it’s not you.”
She picks the plate back up, and pushes it gently into my hands.
“Eat,” she says. “And then you’re going to tell me everything. Every detail.”
There’s no talking my way out of this. Not with Mama. Not this time. Not after everything I did.
I used to dodge it. Talking about prison. What happened to me behind bars. People were too afraid to ask, too careful not to say the wrong thing, always walking on eggshells around me. But this? What I did to Adora? No one’s going to protect me from the truth of it. Especially not Mama.
She’s not letting this go. She wants every detail. The plan. The lies. Fuck, by the end of this, she’s not calling Pops to whoop my ass — she’s going to do it herself.
By the time I finish laying it all out, the food in my gut turns to stone. Mama sits next to me, on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall like she’s trying and failing to process the huge fucking stupidity of the son she raised.
The slap to the back of my head lands with a crack. Doesn’t surprise me. Still makes me wince.
She stands. Her breathing is shallow, her palm pressing to her chest like she’s holding in a scream.
“Two idiots,” she hisses. “I raised two fucking idiots.”
That curse word, coming from her? That’s how I know she’s not just pissed. Furious is a word too small for what she’s feeling.
Her gaze snaps to mine, and suddenly I’m twelve again, caught stealing a pack of gum, thinking she’d never find out. I can see it in her eyes. Disappointment doesn’t even begin to cover it.
“I love you, Dominic. You’re my son. Blood or not, that’s never mattered to me. You’ve been mine since you were ten years old. But I am so goddamn disappointed in you right now, I can barely find the words.”
She takes a breath. Deep. Controlled. Like she’s about to go to war.
“It’s a miracle that girl didn’t die. If she had…” She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t have to. My heart already knows where she’s going. “Let’s just say that even a mother’s love has limits, Dominic. You were handed a miracle. Just like Kane was.”
She sighs from the bottom of her heart. “Adora didn’t deserve what you did to her. Especially when you claim to love her. How can you do that to someone you love?”
Her arms cross. Her voice hardens. “You stay away from her. Don’t call, don’t chase, don’t beg. You leave that girl the hell alone.”
Then, her tone softens. Just a crack, but enough to cut deeper.
“We’ll get you help. The kind you’ve been needing for a long time. It’s time to stop pretending you can handle the wounds of the past on your own.”
I nod. Slow.
She puts her hands on her hips.
“Now get your ass in the ring with Pops.” Her eyes spark with something wild. “I want a front row seat to him kicking your sorry ass into next week.”
Shit. Pops didn’t hold back. Not that I expected him to — but fuck damn.
You’d think being younger, faster, and in better shape would count for something.
But no. He’s been boxing longer than I’ve been breathing, and it shows.
Every fresh bruise on my body is a goddamn signature of that experience.
Bones and I have been chasing a clean win over him for years.
We’ve had our moments, sure. But never a definitive knockout.
Not with Pops insisting we stick to the rules.
That’s where he always gets us. We’re better when the gloves come off, when it gets dirty.
“Boy, you need to train more. That was pathetic,” he spits, towering over me like a judgmental god.
I’m flat on my back, staring up at the flickering ceiling light in the clubhouse gym, lungs burning. Mama peaced out a few minutes ago, said she was satisfied with the show. Must be nice.
“Give up those dumb rules, old man,” I grunt. “Then we’ll see who wins.”
He raises an eyebrow, and smirks down at me. “You think being an outlaw biker means you don’t answer to rules anymore? Life’s full of ‘em, kiddo. Spoken and unspoken. Break the wrong one and you don’t get a rematch — you get a fucking gravestone.”
His voice shifts, lower now, heavier. “Now, since I already beat the will to live out of you, it’s your turn to scare the life out of me. I want to hear what really happened with that girl. I know you told your Mama. Time to tell me.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is this your need for gossip speaking?”
He glares, his nostrils flaring. “Keep running your mouth and I’ll drag your ass through another round.”
I groan and cover my face with one hand. “I already told her everything, Pops. Every fucked-up detail. She can fill you in.”
“I can’t talk about it again. Not so soon,” I say quietly, eyes fixed on the ceiling. I really fucking can’t. I barely got the words out to tell Mama. There’s too much shame and pain to dig through whenever I think about everything that happened. Everything that I did.
He doesn’t say anything. Just sits down next to me and hands me a bottle of water.
I drag myself upright, just enough to sit on my ass and accept the bottle. My body aches. But not as much as the guilt that’s still curdled inside me, making it hard to breathe.