Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Ghost
Ican still taste blood. It’s copper and smoke, grit grinding between my teeth as I push myself upright. My ribs scream. So does the chapel. The whole place groans like it’s dying, and maybe it is. Hell, maybe we all are.
Phoenix is crouched over me, eyes wide, pupils blown, hand tight on my arm like she’s anchoring herself. I think I say her name. She helps me up, and we stumble through what used to be the Sanctum.
The air's thick with fire and whatever dark shit Vale conjured. The altar’s gone, cracked and bleeding red wax, and something worse. Something evil. Symbols crawl across the walls, pulsing one last time before the flames eat them.
Phoenix is somewhere else. Her body’s here, yeah. But her eyes? They’re still in the white or whatever the hell that flare was when Vale grabbed her. It wasn’t light or power, but something older. Something dangerous. She hasn’t said more than two words since Vale disappeared.
I don’t push. Not yet. I know that look. I’ve seen it in soldiers who walked away from the worst days of their lives. She’ll talk when she’s ready.
Outside, the MC is regrouping. Poison’s barking orders. Scissors checks weapons. Gypsy has blood on her jaw and a smile like she’s just come home. They’re battered, bruised, but alive. Every last one of them.
We made it out.
But that chapel? That wasn’t just some backwoods cult HQ. That was a doorway. And we weren’t ready for what stepped through.
Phoenix finally releases me once we’re clear. She doesn’t look back at the wreckage. Just stares at the horizon like it might start whispering answers.
“Vale said something,” I tell her, voice low. “Right before he threw me. About you. And the key.”
Her jaw tightens. “I know.”
“Was he talking about the spiral?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. Just breathes out slowly, like the air hurts to hold in. “I think… it’s part of me now. Maybe it always was.”
And that? That chills me more than anything else tonight.
I glance back at the fire swallowing the chapel. “He’s not dead, is he?”
“No,” she says. “He’s just getting started.” A beat of silence.
Poison calls out, “We ride in five!”
The MC is already moving. No time for reflection. No time to breathe.
Phoenix steps away from me, shoulders squared, face carved from stone.
I want to hold her, but I don’t. Because I don’t think she’d let me. Because she’s already riding toward the next war.
The ride back is quiet. No music. No trash talk. Just the low rumble of bikes and the crackle of my busted ribs every time we hit a bump.
Phoenix rides ahead of me, her silhouette lit by the moon and the tail light glow of Poison’s Harley. She doesn’t look back once. Doesn’t have to. I’m behind her like gravity. Like a ghost who won’t fade.
The swamp peels away as we hit the road, and the shadows feel a little less sharp. But my mind’s still in that chapel. With Vale. With the way Phoenix moved, like something ancient had its hands inside her bones.
The Sanctum’s gone, but that spiral he burned into her? That’s still there. I can feel it pulsing in the space between us.
By the time we pull into the safehouse, everyone’s moving on autopilot. Weapons are stashed. Blood wiped. Doors checked twice. Tabs patches up Wendigo in the kitchen while Poison paces like she’s still riding high on adrenaline.
But I only see Phoenix. She walks toward her room like she doesn’t care if the walls collapse behind her, and I follow.
Inside, she shuts the door but doesn’t turn around.
She hangs her cut on a hook, then her blade hits the floor.
Her Glock on the nightstand. One by one, the pieces of her armor fall away. But she doesn’t speak.
I step behind her so close that the heat off her skin sinks into mine.
“You’re shaking,” I say.
“I’m breathing,” she answers.
“Barely.”
Her voice drops. “I thought he killed you.”
I reach out and wrap my arms around her waist. She stiffens, just for a breath, then sinks into me. Her head tips back against my shoulder, and I kiss the top of it like a prayer. Like she’s holy and I’m already damned.
“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m still here.”
She turns in my arms. No armor now. Just Phoenix. Raw. Rattled. Radiant.
“You won’t always be,” she says. “Neither will I.”
“Then let’s not waste tonight.”
She crashes into me like a wave breaking on the shore. Lips hungry, hands gripping the hem of my shirt, dragging me toward the bed like it’s the only place we’ve ever belonged.
Our clothes hit the floor in silence. No games. No teasing. Just skin on skin and the sound of two people trying to memorize each other before the war takes everything.
I move over her slowly, like I’m not sure she’ll let me stay. But her hands lock around my back, nails digging in like she needs me deeper. Closer. Inside and unshakable.
She kisses me like she’s drowning. I kiss her like I’m the breath that might save her.
When I slide inside her, it’s not just heat, it’s home. Her body pulls me in like it knows mine. Like we’ve done this for a thousand lifetimes and forgotten every time, only to find our way back again.
Her forehead presses to mine.
“You scare me,” she whispers. “I didn’t think I could care like this.”
“You’re not the only one.”
She pulls me in harder, hips rolling up to meet me. “Then don’t let me go.”
“Never.”
We move slowly. Then rough. Then slow again. Not chasing a finish but chasing a feeling. If we hold on long enough, maybe the spiral won’t swallow us. Maybe the world outside that door will wait.
When she comes, her eyes locked on mine, her body is shaking like she’s unraveling in my arms. I follow right after, breathing her name like it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense.
After, she lies against my chest, her fingers tracing the new bruises along my ribs. “Next time,” she says, voice raw, “you don’t get thrown across the goddamn room.”
“Next time,” I murmur, “you don’t run into the mouth of hell without backup.”
She doesn’t promise, and neither do I.
But we stay tangled. Skin to skin. Heart to heart. One night, one breath, before the storm takes everything.