28. Blaze
Ghost
Fuck. I knew that fucking taser would eventually find its way to me. It was fated.
Fucking Luca. Doesn’t matter. I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I have to make sure Adora is okay.
I cough a couple of times, rip the barbs out, pull myself together, and rush after her. It’s only been seconds, but those seconds could matter.
“Dom.” Bones steps in front of me, pissed.
“Later,” I grunt through another cough, and keep walking. No time for him.
Outside, I scan for her. An engine turns over, and that’s my answer. I sprint as fast as I can, yank open the van’s passenger door, and jump in right as she’s pulling out. Of course Ria would leave her keys in the ignition, just like a crazy person.
She doesn’t look at me. Just lets out an enraged sound and smacks the wheel twice, with every bit of strength inside her.
I wait for the screaming, the cursing — anything. But it doesn’t happen. She drags in a furious breath and floors it. The prospects barely get the gates open before we shoot through, tires screeching.
Shit.
I’ll wait her out. Let her do whatever the fuck she needs. My only job is making sure she’s safe. I will not comment on her driving.
We ride in silence, the van flying down the empty road faster than it should.
Fuck. I need to explain the tracker. I need to make her understand. But she won’t hear me right now.
How the fuck did that make her snap? After everything else, I never would’ve guessed it’d be the tracker.
As we hit the bridge, I know where we’re going. Her breath hitches, but there’s no other reaction. She keeps her eyes forward, and the speed at world-record levels.
I lean back and let her lead.
I can’t pretend I’m not dreading going back to that place.
I know she never returned. And I can see it now — it was a mistake giving her the cabin.
I wanted her to have something of her own, to never depend on anyone again.
But I didn’t think it through. My head was too fucked up.
I should’ve just given her more money. Or bought her something else.
Not put the corpse of our time together in her hands.
When she pulls up to the cabin, I’m still not ready. The grief slices through me so fast it steals my breath.
We sit in the dark for a few seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. A whole life with her flashes before my eyes, and I know I’m about to witness the end of it. And I can’t stop it. I can’t fucking stop it.
When she finally opens her door, I open mine too.
She walks slowly, her steps as small as she can make them.
When she stops, her eyes are fixed on the front door.
I fall into place beside her, my feet dragging.
Waiting — wishing — for her to say something.
Do something. But she doesn’t. Not for a long time.
She just watches the home we used to have — a place that looks so much like a tomb right now, it might as well swallow us whole.
I wish I could at least hold her fucking hand through this, but I know she wouldn’t want that. So I let the minutes pass. Me watching her. Her watching our home.
“I was happy here, in your lie,” she finally whispers, voice cracking. “I wish it would just disappear.” Her lower lip trembles. I can hear the unshed tears in her voice. “I don’t know why I drove here. I can’t do anything about it.”
Her words cut into me, but I say nothing. I just turn and walk to the back of the van.
Tank used to complain about Ria always driving on red, so he made sure she always had a full canister of gas available, just in case. I pull it out, take a deep breath, and head for the front door.
“What are you doing?” Adora asks, surprise threading her voice.
I glance over my shoulder and shrug, trying to look like I’m not breaking apart on the inside. “I’ll make this place disappear for you, adorable.”
Her eyes widen. Her lips part. She glances at the canister, then back at me. I don’t wait. I go back to the mission.
Typing the code into the smart lock feels like I only did this yesterday. Like it hasn’t been more than half a fucking year.
The first step inside hits like a fist to the gut. But I can’t falter. I can’t let her see how much it’s killing me. I do this because she needs me to.
I pour gasoline over every surface on the first floor, every inch a memory of us that’s about to burn to ash. Erased. Like we never fucking existed. My old hoodie with the bird on the shoulder, the one I gave Adora in the dungeon, is draped over the back of the couch, and I make sure to drench it.
I stand in the living room for a few seconds, breathing it in, making peace with the fact that what’s left of us will be gone. Then I drag a line of gas right up to Adora’s feet.
She moved closer — probably watching me through the front door — but didn't come in. Her eyes follow my every step like she’s in a trance.
“Found matches in the kitchen,” I say, pulling the box from my pocket and holding it out. “You wanna do it? Or me?”
She takes the box without a word, studies it, then — to my complete surprise — smiles. She immediately strikes a match, lights it, and drops it onto the ground.
The fire doesn’t start slow. It blazes. Like it was waiting for this moment, and Adora just opened its cage.
I pull her back a few steps and let her watch. She’s still smiling, but it looks a little unhinged now. I have a weird feeling that she’s barely holding herself back from bursting into evil laughter. Fuck, I’d rebuild and burn this place to the ground a thousand times over if that’s what she needs.
Before I can make sense of her reaction, she stoops, grabs a jagged rock from the ground, and hurls it straight at a window.
The glass explodes in a burst of orange light and raining shards, and the flames roar like she just fed them all her fury.
Her smile stretches, wild and unrestrained. Almost feral.
She doesn’t hesitate. Another rock, another throw. It hits the door with a dull, heavy thud and tumbles into the fire. A scream tears out of her, raw and guttural. Then another. And another. Louder each time, until it’s impossible to tell if she’s laughing or crying or both.
Her voice cracks, but her body doesn’t stop moving.
Every throw is an exorcism, every scream a wound tearing open.
The fire eats her noise and spits it back in higher flames and heat.
She’s shaking now, breath coming in ragged bursts, but the smile stays.
It’s the kind of smile that comes when pain has nowhere else to go.
For a long moment, all I can do is watch her, lit by the blaze. A silhouette of grief and anger, laughing into the inferno, daring it to fight her rage.
I let her have it for a minute, but even if I hate to, I have to cut it short.
“Take a picture if you need to,” I say, stopping her from grabbing another rock. “But we have to go. Now. Or we’ll both be in big trouble.”
“Shit,” her eyes snap to mine, a little horrified. “You’re right,” she gasps, and instantly bolts for the van.
“I’ll drive,” I say, cutting in front and jumping into the driver’s seat. She glares but doesn’t argue, hustling to the passenger side. Thank fuck. She’s a terrible fucking driver.
The empty canister flies into the back before I fire up the engine. We’re barely two minutes down the road when she turns to me, shaking and breathless.
“Why are you driving so slow?” she asks, voice pitched high. “Go faster or someone will catch us!”
“First of all, no one’s chasing us,” I grin, glancing over. “Second, you don’t commit a misdemeanor while you’re committing a felony. That’s your first lesson. Welcome to the criminal world.”
“Oh, God,” she chokes out. “I’m a criminal now, aren’t I? And they’ll know the fire was intentional. I don’t want to go to prison. I don’t want you to go to prison either. Not again.” Her voice keeps climbing. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”
“Breathe, Adora,” I say, low and steady. “They’ll know it was intentional. They won’t know who did it. Someone will inform you of the fire, and you’ll just have to keep calm. That’s it. Tell them your biker husband has enemies. I’ll handle the rest.”
She bites her lip, like she’s thinking it over, then nods slowly. “Okay, I can do that. And it’s ex-husband,” she snaps.
“Not for a few more months until the court signs off, it’s not,” I murmur, suddenly irritated.
“That’s just a formality,” she spits, and crosses her arms over her chest.
A few seconds later, she sighs deeply and looks back at me. “You put a fucking tracker inside my body, Ghost. And left it there all this time. Don’t think I forgot about that.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles going white. “It was a precaution. In case you tried to run.”
“That was before,” she snaps, pointing a finger at me. “What about all these other months? You just can’t give up control over my life, can you?”
“It’s not about control,” I murmur, pulling into a turnout. I can’t drive while having this conversation.
I kill the engine and lean back in my seat. She doesn’t speak, but I can feel her eyes on me.
“Every time I see that tracker dot move on my screen, it means you’re alive,” I whisper, turning my head toward her. “It means your heart is still beating. It was the only thing I had when I couldn’t be near you.”
Seconds of silence stretch while she looks at me, lips trembling with unsaid words, her chest rising and falling too fast.
“Fuck,” she finally exhales, dragging a hand through her hair. “That… that honestly sounds fucked up. Toxic as shit.” She squares her shoulders, fixing me with a deadly glare. “It’s still not okay. I had a right to know.”
A pause. That glare goes up a thousand levels. “Where did you put it?’
I press my lips together. I don’t want to say it. I really don’t fucking want to say it. Every instinct screams that it needs to stay exactly where it is. Until the day it dies, and then it’s taken out. And replaced with a new one.
“Ghost,” she growls, warning in her tone.