Ghost
Buck didn’t look up. “Good, they should be freaked out.”
Buck set the knife down harder than necessary. “You got a point, or you just irritating me for fun?”
“Fine,” he growled.
Buck actually smirked faintly. “That’s because it was—just a little bit.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ghost grumbled.
The war room door opened behind them, and Reaper stepped inside, carrying two rifles across his shoulders.
“We’re loaded.” Buck stood immediately, and there it was again, the shift in the room.
It seemed to sharpen around him when he moved.
Every King straightened instinctively as Buck grabbed his kutte and shrugged it over broad shoulders.
He was a natural-born leader, even if he hated taking that position when Gorgon was away.
Ghost watched him carefully while something warm and painful twisted in his chest. God, he loved this man. The realization should’ve terrified him more than it did. Instead, it just felt honest now.
Buck looked over at him suddenly. “What?”
Ghost blinked. “You got that whole rugged warlord thing going on right now.”
Buck looked unimpressed. “We’re about to raid a trafficking operation.”
“Exactly.” Ghost grinned. “Very masculine. I’d give you a ten outta ten on the sexy scale.”
Reaper made a deeply exhausted sound. “Can you two flirt after we stop the human traffickers?”
Ghost pointed at him immediately. “See, he gets it. This is flirting.” Buck rolled his eyes and grabbed extra magazines from the table, but Ghost caught the faint redness creeping up his neck anyway. The emotionally constipated bastard was embarrassed.
Outside, snow blasted across the yard while trucks lined up near the gates. Kings loaded into vehicles wearing black tactical gear beneath leather kuttes while engines rumbled low in the darkness.
Ghost climbed into the passenger seat of Buck’s truck while Reaper and three others loaded into the SUV behind them. The moment the gates opened, Buck hit the gas hard enough to fishtail across the frozen road.
Ghost braced a hand against the dashboard. “You know, if we survive this, I’m definitely making fun of you for falling in love during a gang war.”
Buck kept his eyes on the road. “You’re literally in love with the same woman.”
“Yeah, but I’m coping with humor.” Ghost glanced over at Buck. “You’re coping with murder.” Buck didn’t deny it as silence settled between them for several miles while snow hammered the windshield.
Buck spoke quietly. “You really think she chose us?” Ghost looked over at him, and he could see the real fear underneath everything else. Buck wasn’t afraid of losing the fight. He was afraid of losing Wren.
Ghost leaned back against the seat slowly. “Brother, that woman agreed to be with two outlaw bikers after twenty-four hours and looked calmer than she had all week after agreeing to be ours.” He smirked faintly. “Yeah. I think she chose us.” Buck swallowed hard.
Ghost softened slightly. “You scared?”
Buck laughed without any humor behind it. “Terrified.” The honesty of it punched Ghost straight through the chest because Buck Lawson never admitted fear. He could be bleeding and broken and never be afraid, but throw Wren into the mix, and she cracked him open effortlessly.
Ghost reached over suddenly and grabbed the back of Buck’s neck hard enough to hold his attention, and Buck glanced over at him. “We’ll get her back,” Ghost said quietly. “Then we can both tell her. We can finally make her ours, and I’m never letting her out of my sight again.”
Buck frowned slightly. “Tell her what?”
Ghost grinned slowly. “That we love her, dumbass.” Buck looked horrified, and Ghost started laughing immediately.
“Oh my God, you haven’t even realized you’re planning forever with her yet, have you?” Ghost asked.
“Shut up,” Buck mumbled.
“You totally are.” Ghost pointed at him accusingly. “You already got the protective husband routine down.” Buck flipped him off without heat.
Ghost’s grin softened into something more genuine. “For what it’s worth—” Buck looked over at him again. “I think she loves you, too.”
Emotion flickered across Buck’s face too fast for most people to catch, but Ghost saw it anyway. “She loves both of us,” Buck corrected. “And if I’m planning a future, it’s with both of you, Ghost. You got it?”
“Yeah, I’ve got it,” Ghost agreed, not hiding his smile. He had been thinking about a life with them both since Wren walked into the damn clubhouse. He was just happy to hear that he and Buck were on the same page now.
Then the radio crackled violently between them; Reaper’s voice cut through the static. “We got movement near the ridge.”
Buck’s entire posture sharpened instantly. “How many? Reaper didn’t respond immediately, and Buck shouted, “How many?” again.
“Shit,” Reaper breathed. “Looks like they’re moving hostages.”
The second Reaper said they were moving hostages; every instinct Ghost had gone feral. Buck slammed the truck into a harder gear immediately, tires spitting snow across the frozen road while the engine roared beneath them.
“How many?” Buck barked into the radio.
Static crackled back in response. “Three trucks are leaving the warehouse perimeter,” Reaper answered.
“Looks like transport vehicles.” Ghost’s stomach twisted viciously because transport vehicles meant that they were relocating them, and relocation meant girls disappearing forever.
And if Wren got moved, finding her again in northern territory would become a nightmare.
“They’re running,” Ghost muttered.
Buck’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “No, we won’t let them.” Ghost looked over sharply.
Buck’s eyes stayed locked on the storm ahead. “They’re splitting assets.” Understanding hit instantly.
“It’s a diversion,” Ghost said.
“Yeah,” Buck growled. Eli wanted chaos. He wanted the Kings chasing the wrong vehicles while the real operation disappeared elsewhere. Ghost’s pulse kicked harder. Wren had warned them that it was a trap, and this was part of it.
The radio crackled again. “We got visual on armed escort bikes,” Reaper continued. “Looks like Vultures.”
Buck made a decision instantly. “Reaper, take the SUVs and intercept the convoy.”
Ghost frowned. “Buck?—”
Buck ignored him. “Disable the trucks if you can. Prioritize the hostages.”
“What about you two?” Reaper asked.
Buck’s expression turned ice-cold. “We’re getting Wren.”
The line went silent for half a second before Reaper answered quietly, “Copy that.”
Ghost stared at Buck as the truck tore through the snowstorm. “You think Eli kept her at the warehouse.”
“He’s obsessed with control.” Buck downshifted sharply around an icy bend. “Men like that don’t let important leverage out of sight.” Ghost hated how much sense that made.
The snow thickened around them while Blackwater Ridge loomed darker ahead through the storm, and Buck suddenly killed the headlights. The truck plunged into darkness. Ghost immediately straightened and looked out the window into the darkness.
“You see something?” he asked. Buck pointed ahead to the faint lights that glowed through the trees near the ridge line. “Front convoy,” Ghost realized.
Buck nodded before steering sharply off the main trail and down a narrow maintenance path buried beneath snow.
The truck rocked violently, and Ghost grabbed the dashboard again.
“If I die because you think you’re in a Fast it was pathetic, and he could tell that Buck felt the same way.
The truck finally stopped beneath a dense cluster of pines overlooking the depot.
Both men moved instantly. Ghost followed Buck through waist-deep snow toward the ridge overlook, and the second the warehouse came into view, Ghost understood why Wren had sounded scared.
The place was lit up like a damn military compound with floodlights, armed patrols, and guard towers.
Trucks were being loaded with women by the eastern bays.
“Jesus,” Ghost muttered.
Buck crouched beside him in the snow, eyes scanning every inch of the compound.
“Western side is over there,” he said, pointing.
Ghost followed his gaze and saw the hidden drainage corridor that sat half-buried beneath drifting snow near the rear wall, exactly where Leah predicted it would be.
It was their way in, but something felt wrong.
Ghost narrowed his eyes. There were too many guards near the loading bays and too much activity up front, like they wanted attention focused there. Then he saw it—movement near the western side.
Ghost grabbed Buck’s arm instantly. “There.” Buck went completely still as a figure slipped briefly from behind stacked crates near the rear warehouse wall before ducking back into the darkness. The person had a small frame and dark hair. Buck’s entire body locked tight beside him.
“Wren,” Buck breathed. Even from this distance, Ghost recognized the way she moved. Hope exploded through Ghost’s chest.
“She found the tunnel,” he said. Buck was already moving before the words finished leaving his mouth.
Ghost grabbed him hard enough to stop him from charging straight downhill. “Easy.”
Buck looked ready to commit homicide. “She’s trying to escape,” he growled. “We need to help her.”
“Exactly.” Ghost pointed toward the patrol route circling the western wall. “Which means if you go full caveman right now, they’ll spot her.” Buck’s breathing roughened violently.
Ghost tightened his grip on his arm. “Trust her.” Buck froze because deep down, he knew Wren wasn’t helpless. She was smart, capable, and currently trying to survive.
Ghost lowered his voice. “We move with her.” Buck stared toward the warehouse again and nodded back at Ghost. Together, they started down the ridge through the storm toward the drainage tunnel and toward Wren.
They were ready to fight a war, and Ghost knew with terrifying certainty that the second Buck got his hands on Eli Mercer, there wouldn’t be enough left of the bastard to bury.