28. Blaze #2
Fuck. I have to give her what she wants. Even if I don’t want to. It’s her right to know.
“It’s in your left ass cheek,” I mutter, voice so low I barely hear myself.
I blink. She blinks. Once. Twice. Again.
“You put it in my ass?” she finally yells, arms flailing in outrage.
“Yeah, well, I initially wanted to put it in one of your tits,” I shoot back, voice hot, unreasonably bothered by her judgement. “But the chances of you noticing the needle mark were too damn high.”
I’ve never seen her eyes get so wide. They look like they’re about to pop out of her skull and jump right at me.
“I suddenly don’t feel so bad about tasing you anymore.” The hissed words are matched by an angry slap against the dashboard.
“You felt bad about tasing me?” I try — and successfully fail — to hide my grin.
Her glare melts.
“I don’t want to be that kind of person.” she says quietly, sinking into her seat. “The kind that hurts people like that. I’ve experienced enough of it to last a lifetime. I don’t want to spread it around.”
“You have nothing to feel bad about,” I murmur, watching her bite her lip. “I’ve put you through enough shit. It’s okay to be angry.”
I pause, frowning. “Honestly, it’s a miracle you didn’t explode sooner. I know I’ve been overbearing since you came to the clubhouse.”
“Well, at least you’re self-aware,” the snark comes out like a bite, paired with a stare that could flay the skin off my bones.
But then her face softens. Her eyes start darting around, unfocused.
“I’ve just been dealing with too much anxiety lately,” she whispers. “I guess it made me lose control.”
“Is it about the snake cult?” The thought makes my brow furrow. “You don’t have to worry about them. It’ll be over soon.”
“No,” she sighs, and I swear she’s never looked this tired. Her eyes narrow unexpectedly, shoulders squaring up like she’s ready for a fight. “It’s because I have questions.”
She runs a hand through her hair, breath trembling. “I never thought I’d get here, but… there are things I want to know. About the past. About everything that happened. I’m just fucking afraid of opening that can of worms.”
My heart starts pounding so fast it might crack a rib. This woman is the only person who’s ever managed to make me feel fear. Real fear.
I wanted this. Hoped for this. That she would ask. That she’d want to know. But now that the moment’s here, it feels like I’m breathing in sludge.
Will it change anything? Will it make her understand? Maybe. Or maybe not, and that’s where my last hope will die.
“You said it didn’t matter,” I manage to get the words out in a dry whisper. “That you didn’t want to know.”
“Yeah, well, I lied,” she mutters, crossing her arms. “I fucking lied, okay? Back then, all I wanted was for you to sign the papers and not drag it out. But I knew I’d need to know someday. I just wanted it to be on my terms. Not yours.”
“Okay.” I nod slowly, trying to swallow the knot in my throat. “Ask your questions, adorable. I’ll answer every one of them.”
She side-eyes me, looking distrustful as fuck.
Her eyes start roaming the van, teeth worrying her bottom lip while she thinks. I let her take her time, watching the way her throat moves when she swallows, the way a few loose strands of hair tremble with every turn of her head.
Finally, she looks back at me. Worry and anticipation vibrate off her.
“Okay,” she says breathlessly. “We’ll start with questions first. And then—” Her voice cuts off, cracking. She swallows hard, licks her lips, and tries again. “Then… I want you to tell me about prison.”
The word ‘prison’ barely leaves her lips. It’s not even a whisper, but it lands like a knife twisting between my ribs. Fuck. I’ve imagined this conversation a thousand times, whenever I woke up from nightmares, gasping for air.
Memories claw at the edges of my mind, the darkest ones, begging to be let in. I manage to hold them back. For now. Their time will come, after her questions. And then I’ll drown in that hell again.
I just nod and let her take the lead. This is her show. She shifts in her seat, clears her throat a few times, then pins me with a determined look.
“First, about the tracker,” she starts, and my heart drops.
She wants it out. Fuck! “It’s clear you have some kind of unholy need for it, and I’m willing to make you a deal.
” She pauses for effect. My heart comes back.
My eyebrows lift. Whatever she fucking needs, just so the tracker stays where it is.
“I will not remove your stupid tracker for the time being,” she says, eyes narrowing to slits, “if you wear one yourself and I get to track you.”
She lifts her chin and crosses her arms. She’s expecting a fight. She has no idea how happy she just made me. I feel like I just won the jackpot.
“It’s a deal,” I murmur, still riding the high her words gave me.
Thank fuck I had the brilliant idea to also blackmail a backup tracker from Luca. Dealing with Arcangelo for this shit would’ve been a nightmare.
A wicked smile spreads across her lips. She leans in, voice dropping low.
“You’ll inject it in the same place you did mine,” she hisses, then leans back and waves her hand with a flourish. “Now, let’s continue.”
She whips out her phone, taps a few times, and glares at the screen. Did she write an actual fucking list?
“The rat in the cell, from when you kidnapped me… it didn’t just stumble in on its own. You put it there on purpose, didn’t you?” Her jaw clenches tight.
The question catches me off guard. Shit. She’s going for all the little fucking details, isn’t she?
“I did,” I admit with a nod. That rat can’t sink me lower than where I already am.
She gasps like I just slapped her and jabs a finger at my chest. “I knew it! You are such a fucking dickhead.”
One of my eyebrows lifts in stupefaction. “Is that really such a surprise?”
“No,” she admits grudgingly, glancing at the phone in her lap, then back at me with a sigh. “Forget the rat. What I actually want to know is — did you really stop watching Liz? Like you promised?”
“Yes,” I confirm. Then my brain freezes. Shit. The last person I talked to about Liz — Adora’s so-called father.
“What’s wrong? You’ve got a weird look,” Adora demands, alarm in her voice. “Is it about Liz?”
“No.” I shake my head and brace for impact. “It’s about Reggie.” I pause, then let it out in one breath. “I killed him. Months ago.”
Silence drops like gravel on a casket. She blinks, jaw slack. Seconds stretch. Finally — finally! — a whoosh of air escapes her and she slumps, looking out through the windshield.
“I can’t believe what a relief that is,” she mumbles, almost in shock. Her eyes drift back to me and I see the pain behind them. “He didn’t deserve to be a father. But he was one anyway.” She pauses. “Did he suffer?”
My jaw clenches in frustration. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Is it weird that I feel relief?” she asks, frowning like she’s afraid of the answer. “He never hit me. Or yelled. He just stood by and watched.”
I pin her with a hard look. “Yeah, he watched and did nothing. That's not a father, that's a coward. So no, it’s not weird to feel relief.”
She sucks in a breath. “I think you might be right.” Then she straightens, wipes every thought of Reggie off her face like it’s nothing, and snaps back into business. “Next question.”
She peeks at her phone. “I want to know how long you were watching me before you decided to strike.”
I sigh and drag a hand down my face, thinking back.
“I started keeping track of you about three years after I got out of prison. Waiting for the right moment. There was too much going on for a long time to make a move. Then things settled and you finally divorced. But Bones had a different plan, he wanted to wait longer. At first, I agreed.” I pause.
Breathe. “But then you started dating,” I grit out, the words like barbed wire down my throat.
“I got angry. Antsy. I don’t fucking know.
I worked like hell, found a lead strong enough to keep Bones busy with Temperance, and then I took my chance. ”
She inhales sharply. Fury pools in her eyes.
“Ghost,” she growls. “I dated three men during the two years I lived on my own. They all disappeared. They ghosted me.” She slaps the dashboard. “Did you have anything to do with that?”
I wince. Fuck my life with all this honesty shit.
I swallow hard and accept my fate. “They weren’t good enough for you if all it took to scare them off was some guy with a gun,” I shrug.
An enraged sound fills the entire van. She claws my shoulder, nails digging into the leather of my cut, and leans in.
“You should know, I got to fuck the last guy,” she hisses, eyes like knives trying to pierce my skull.
“I know,” I snap, grabbing the side of her neck and pulling her closer. “It’s what finally drove me over the fucking edge!”
Her other hand grabs my jaw but fails to shake me. “You’re a fucking lunatic,” she spits, then yanks herself back, breathing ragged.
I slump in my seat and throw my head against the headrest.
“Wish I could say I’m sorry,” I mumble, rubbing at my eyes. “But I’m not. I’m not fucking sorry.” I stare at her. “All those men were shit. If they hadn’t run like cowards, I would’ve fucking killed them.”
The moment my brain processes all the words I just said, a hopeless groan leaves my chest. I was clearly both too stupid and too fucking cocky to realize that she had me by the balls even before the dungeon. Idiot.
I decide to stop talking and incriminate myself further.
She doesn’t say anything either. Just glares at me for minute after minute, working the muscles in her jaw, lips pressed together, fingers flexing in her lap.
Maybe she’s coming to terms with how truly fucked up I am.
Or maybe she’s trying not to bite my throat out. Either way, not great for me.
Finally she inhales, exhales huge, and the glare softens a fraction. A tiny fraction.
“I. Am. Furious,” she says, each word a growl. “But I appreciate the honesty.” That tone doesn’t sound very appreciative.
She closes her eyes for a moment and takes another calming breath.
When her gaze finds mine again, there’s uncertainty there. Her teeth scrape her bottom lip — harder this time, like she’s afraid of what’s coming next.
“We can continue this some other time if you want,” I murmur, frowning at her obvious distress.
“No.” She shakes her head quickly, dismissing the idea. “It took me a long time to gather the courage to start this conversation. I want all the information now.”
Her glare returns suddenly. “I need to make at least some sense of why you went so far. I don’t think it’ll make it easier to accept, but I have to know why.”
There are tears in the corners of her eyes now. The deep sorrow on her face feels like a knife slicing me open.
“Why did you have sex with me that morning, Ghost? What the fuck were you thinking? Did you really need to do that for your revenge?”
I can almost taste the pain in her voice. I can almost touch her grief in the air between us. Against every instinct and rational thought inside me, I close my eyes and let my mind sink back into the memory of the day I killed her. And myself.
“The sound of Bowie’s name from your lips… it was like a gunshot. A silent bomb that threw me out of my body,” I start, voice low. “I was gone, and only the monster remained. I was just watching from the sidelines.”
When I open my eyes, the darkness outside seems deeper than before.
“I’m not making excuses. I know that monster is me.”
I glance at her, voice dropping to a whisper. “Unfortunately, I don’t have some magically right answer for that question.”
A single tear stains her cheek. I want to reach out and wipe it away, but I know she wouldn’t want me touching her right now. So I just keep talking.
“I remember wanting a final memory. And I remember saying goodbye to you over and over in my head. The words were on repeat the whole time.” I pause, forcing myself to keep it together.
“I destroyed everything,” I murmur. “I was consumed by the past, by the need to make you feel a fraction of what I felt, and I didn’t even try to talk to you.
To understand. I know I don’t deserve mercy.
And if I were a better man, I wouldn’t ask for it.
But I’m not a better man, so I’ll keep fighting for your forgiveness. ”
My chest feels heavy with a million unsaid ‘I’m sorrys’ that are clawing to get out, but I shove them back down. None of them would change anything. Not for her, not for me.
Her jaw tightens and releases as she fights the next wave of tears. Her eyes stay unfocused, staring straight through me.
“You’re right. You are not a better man,” her whisper cuts through the quiet. “And you sure are a terrifying one. You might have exploded that day, but up until then, you were meticulous and patient with your revenge.”
I sigh, dragging a tired hand down my face. “My revenge plans were all shitty and backfired spectacularly.”
She looks down at the phone in her lap, playing with the edge of its case. “No more questions,” she murmurs after a few seconds. “I’ve been avoiding the main subject long enough.”
Her eyes lift, wide and a little fearful. “Tell me about prison, Ghost. From the beginning.”