Chapter 21
Ghost
It took a whole fucking day to claw my way out of the nightmare Ria buried me in.
Three days later, I still saw echoes of it. Shadows of myself twisted into a monster. Adora’s corpse. Her dead eyes peeking at me from every corner. It numbed me straight to the bone.
Don’t think that was supposed to happen.
Maybe Ria overdosed me. Maybe my mind finally snapped. Either way, I don’t care. Not anymore.
I’ll give her credit though. She did in a few hours what five years behind bars couldn’t.
But at least the numbness came with clarity. Stripped everything down to what actually mattered, what I could still do right, even now. Even after everything. So I packed light and left the clubhouse days ago. Didn't bother telling anyone.
Got a job to do. The first name on my list? Reggie Evans, Adora's father.
I crack my neck, roll my shoulders, feel the joints pop with a satisfying snap, and continue walking down the darkened hallway. Steps slow and light.
My nose wrinkles at the sour, rotting smell reeking through the entire house. Fourteen years ago, this asshole was living the perfect small-town lie. White-picket fence. Lawn cut to perfection. Even so, something felt off.
I didn't meet Grace back then but I met Reggie once or twice, and he was always smiling and spotless. Starched shirts in whites and grays. Not a wrinkle, not a speck of dust. Adora, Liz, even the fucking house was bleached of any color. Like that bitch wanted to erase any trace of life from it.
I roll my shoulders again, trying to shake off the claws of the past. What’s done is done.
The door to his room is already cracked open. I push it wider with two fingers and step inside, feeling the filth crawling through my fucking gloves. The stench is worse in here, overflowing with stale sweat and vomit.
And there he is, sprawled on the bed.
Shit. His eyes are open. Staring at the ceiling like he’s seeing straight into hell.
I don’t falter. I move fast, grip tight around his mouth, ready to silence him. He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t blink. He’s blissed out of his fucking mind. Great. I could set him on fire and he’d probably just smile through the flames.
My job just got easier, though.
Two hours later, he’s strapped to a chair in the middle of his shit-stained room.
Hands bound. Mouth gagged. He’s been drooling on himself for the last hour, head bobbing back and forth.
I’m lounging in another chair in front of him, legs spread, one hand tapping the armrest in time with the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Finally, he stirs. Groans. Blinks. I wait, patient. I’ve done this dance before. I know the steps.
The first thing he’s gonna want is water.
I grab the bottle from the floor, twist the cap off, and lean forward. His eyes finally focus, and when they land on me, they go wide with fear. He’s awake enough. Good.
“Hey, Reggie.” My voice is soft. Almost gentle. “I’m gonna take off your gag, have a little chat. Got some water for you.”
I shake the bottle in front of his face, and his gaze locks on it greedily.
“And if you’re a good boy and cooperate, I’ve got a little gift for you.”
I raise the syringe I brought with me, let it catch the light. His eyes go wide, pupils blown. He looks at it like it’s candy.
Shit, man, you just crawled out of that hole. What the fuck.
He nods eagerly, raw need oozing from every pore. I bring the gag down, hold the bottle to his lips. He drinks like he’s been crawling through the desert. Doesn’t stop until it’s empty. When he’s done, I set the bottle aside and lean back.
“How’ve you been, Reggie?” I ask, voice smooth. Casual.
He blinks rapidly, still riding the edge of withdrawal, his eyes darting around the room.
“Good, good,” he stammers, voice thin and brittle. “What—what can I help you with, Ghost?” He swallows hard, his whole body trembling.
I lean further back in my chair, stretching out like I have all the time in the world. “I just need some intel, Reggie. But first....” I tilt my head, eyes never leaving his. “Tell me, how come your wife finally left you?”
He flinches, surprise flaring in his eyes before he smothers it.
“Oh, she left years ago. Found herself some rich guy.” He tries for spite, but it falls flat. He’s not convincing at all.
“The same rich guy she’s been fucking for two decades now?” I drop the question like a hand grenade.
His eyes go wide, panic rising. He shakes his head with jerky movements.
“What? No, no. Just some guy. No one important.”
“So… not Sombra?” I arch an eyebrow, my tone flat, even.
He freezes. Jaw locked tight. Not even a whisper of breath leaves him.Indecision flickers in his gaze. Lies cling desperately to his tongue. I roll my eyes and sigh, so damn tired of this dance.
I lean forward, slowly, letting him feel the weight of my shadow creeping over him.
“I know most of the story, Reggie. You better spit the whole truth this time. Not the bullshit you spun before. Or else…” I grin, all teeth and threat. “I’ll make you beg for death.”
His breathing turns shallow. Shoulders trembling, eyes glassy with fear. He knows I’m not fucking around. I stretch an arm across the back of the chair, and get comfortable.
“Now, I can be nice.” I shake the syringe in front of him, watch his eyes glaze over with hunger. “Or, I can jump straight to the fun stuff. Your choice.”
He sags, shoulders crumpling under the weight of his own failure. Defeated. Perfect.
“Yes… she’s living with Sombra. Has been for some years now,” he whispers like he wishes the words were lies.
I study him, casual as hell. “Why wait so long to finally leave you?”
His lips twist, eyes skittering away. “How the hell would I know? That’s between them.”
“But she’s still keeping tabs on you,” I press, voice cold. Unyielding.
He stares at the wall, and releases a heavy sigh. “She sends different guys over. They drop off supplies. Doesn’t come herself. I wish she would,” he whispers wistfully.
His voice drops lower. “She thinks Adora might visit at some point. Wants me to tell her if she does.”
My teeth grind, but I keep my voice steady. “Why the fuck didn’t you protect Adora? She’s your daughter, and you let that bitch hurt her.”
He flinches, head jerking back. “Grace wasn’t that bad.”
“Cut the crap,” I say, voice lethal. “I know she forced her to marry Bowie. And I know some of the details from her childhood. The cold showers, the kneeling on rice, making her pull out her own hair strand by strand as some fucked-up punishment. Who the hell does that to their own kid? To any kid? That bitch is sick, and you’re protecting her. ”
His face tightens with anger. “You have no right to judge me. You’re not a father, are you? You don’t know how hard it is to raise two girls. Grace only wanted the best for both of them.”
I feel fury crawling down my spine. I barely reign it in.
“Did she do the same to Liz?”
He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “No, Liz was more careful than Adora. She didn’t need to be so hard on her.”
Something doesn’t fucking add up. It never did. Grace went after Adora like she was her own personal project. But she left Liz alone. Why? Sure, Adora tried to protect her sister. But she was just a kid herself for a long time, how the hell could she have stopped that bitch?
“Why didn’t Grace treat Liz the same, Reggie?” I spit the words through my teeth.
He looks at me confused, like my question makes no sense.
“I already told you. Liz was more careful, she didn’t need to be disciplined like that.
” His face softens. His eyes turn pleading, like he’s begging me to understand.
“Grace was a good wife. A good mother. Everything was perfect when she was here.”
I’ve heard enough. This fucker is beyond redemption. Weak. Pathetic. A puppet dangling from Grace’s strings, happy to dance as long as she sends him his shit.
I stand up slow, rolling my shoulders back. “Where’s Grace now? I need an address.”
I bring the syringe up to eye level, tapping the side and watching a single drop of liquid bead at the tip.
His gaze locks on it, desperation flaring in his eyes. He licks his lips, shaking his head.
“Don’t know. Sombra takes care of her now.”
I tilt my head, considering him. “That’s… disappointing.”
I turn, grab the tourniquet tossed on his bed, and wrap it tight around his arm.
“What are you doing? I can do that myself,” he mumbles, voice shaking.
His eyes dart to the syringe. “You know there’s too much in that. You have to be careful.”
I meet his eyes, calm. “I’ll be careful, Reggie.” My voice drops, softer. “I’ll be careful with Adora. I’ll take care of her. Make sure she’s safe.”
I lean in closer, letting my words bite into him. “She’s my wife now, by the way. Thought you should know that before you leave this world. Don’t worry. I’ll send your own wife straight to you, soon enough.”
His eyes bulge, mouth working to form words.
“S-Stop,” he stammers, but I don’t. I plunge the needle into his arm and clamp my other hand over his mouth.
He thrashes, body fighting the restraints, but it doesn’t last long. I hold his gaze the entire time, forcing him to look into my eyes while he slips away. I want his last sight to be the man that sends him to hell.
I wish I would’ve done this bloodier. I wish I would’ve ripped him apart with my bare hands. This is too clean. Too fucking easy. But it’ll have to do. I need Grace to think it was an overdose. I want her unsuspecting. I want her to keep living her perfect life. For now.
I’ve been gone a month, chasing crumbs through the veins of the cartel.
Another dead body. Another waste of fucking time.
No closer to Sombra. No closer to Grace.
Just more blood on my hands and a tracker app on my phone that I looked at religiously.
That tiny dot, moving around Silverpine.
Proof she was still breathing, proof she was still in a safe place.