Chapter 35
Ghost
The contraption in front of me is fucking magnificent. Joker outdid himself. Enough that he might escape his weekly beatdown with Bones and me — but just this once, because I’m not that fucking merciful. Until that kid of his turns two, he’s still getting his ass handed to him on a regular basis.
I lean forward in my chair, elbows braced on my knees, and take it in again.
The metal box is massive, about three coffins deep and wide. The interior walls are lined with thick iron spikes, sharp enough to draw blood at first touch. It’s taller than a coffin, though — over seven feet. A very loose, very creative interpretation of a medieval iron maiden.
Grace Evans hangs in the center of it, wrists bound above her head, yanking frantically at the rope. She’s been doing that for the last ten minutes, ever since I walked into the Fun House.
She looks so much like Adora that I needed a moment to breathe before I could even start this.
The photos prepared me for the resemblance, but seeing it in person still felt like getting slapped. That’s why I asked Joker to build this weeks ago. I knew I wouldn’t be able to put my hands on this woman, not directly. But it still had to be me.
So I worked around it.
My spine cracks when I stand, still stiff from the Sombra ordeal. My ribs try to protest as I move, but I shut the pain out. I have more important things to deal with right now.
The bitch’s eyes widen when I step closer. She jerks against the rope, panic flashing across her face, but there’s nowhere to go. When I pull the gag down, she sucks in quick, shallow breaths, chest rising and falling like she’s on the edge of a panic attack.
It doesn’t last.
Her eyes narrow. Hatred ignites. She tries to spit at me, but I dodge it easily.
“Your daughter was much better at that,” I murmur, stepping back. “Hit bullseye on her first try.”
The scream she unleashes rattles the room. My ears start ringing. If she keeps this up, I’ll gag her again, just to spare myself the headache.
“You’re dead, you animal!” she shrieks. “My man will destroy you!”
My brows knit together. We kept her sedated for a full day, including during transport. Still — surely she remembers something. Does she really think Sombra walked out of that house alive?
“Your man is getting fucked by the Devil’s pitchfork right now, Grace,” I say flatly, watching her face.
It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in. When they do, her mouth trembles. Her eyes gloss over.
“You’re lying,” she whispers, shaking her head. “You have to be. I won’t fall for your shit.”
“I put a bullet between his eyes myself.”
She thrashes harder now, rope biting into her wrists, skin turning raw and red. Her screams rise, wild and desperate.
“You’re lying! You’re lying! You fucking piece of shit! I should’ve let him kill you!”
“You really should have,” I murmur, but she doesn’t hear me.
She keeps screaming, calling me a liar and a piece of shit over and over again. Then, just as I’m about to gag her again, she snaps. She starts laughing. Not soft or hopeless, but wild and unhinged.
Fuck. I think her mind just broke.
“You want answers,” she chuckles darkly, eyes glittering as they lock onto mine. “That’s why you brought me here.”
She suddenly stops jerking around, composing herself in less than a heartbeat. Perfectly still. It would almost be impressive if it weren’t so deeply fucking wrong.
Her mouth curves into a barely-there, superiority-filled smirk.
I tilt my head, studying her.
This fucking bitch thinks she has cards to play.
“I know exactly who you are,” she says, voice tight with restraint. Almost a warning.
I draw my lips into a tight line, frowning. “Given that my cut is hard to miss, I’d be surprised if you didn’t. I imagine there aren’t many Iron Vultures you’ve fucked over in the last fifteen years.”
She lets out a condescending little laugh. This is unsettling, even for me. She might look eerily similar to Adora, but nothing else matches. The rot she carries under her skin makes this entire scene feel unreal, like a foggy reflection in warped glass.
“What did you do to my daughter?” she demands, lifting her chin as high as she can. “Take me to her, or you’ll never get the answers you want.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. I can’t help it.
“First,” I say calmly, “you’re never seeing Adora again. She’s mine now, and I’ll make damn sure you never get anywhere near her.” I step closer, just enough for my shadow to bite into her. “But don’t worry, she fully approves of what’s about to happen here.”
Her expression wavers.
“Second,” I add, “did I ask you a single fucking question?”
“You’re nothing but a liar,” she snaps, trying to keep herself calm. “Adora wouldn’t be involved in this. Or with you. She understood exactly what kind of man you are. I made her understand.”
I roll my shoulders, working through the stiffness. Fucking old prison scars flaring after the weekend I’ve had.
“You don’t know your daughter at all,” I murmur, already bored.
“I made her,” she grits out. “No one knows her better than I do.”
She inhales sharply, her eyes darting around like she’s searching for something to save her. “You kill me,” she says at last, “and you’ll never know the truth about her.”
A twisted smile stretches her mouth. “And believe me, biker — you want the truth. It’ll make you see her very differently. It’ll make you realize how wrong you are to keep her by your side.”
My brows lift slightly, but I’m not surprised. I just thought it would take her longer to throw Adora under the bus.
“The truth?” I murmur. “You mean that she’s Sombra’s daughter?”
I let the pause breathe.
“Or should I call him Diego Cardona, the name he used back when you were in high school and he was a low-level dealer selling trash across the street?”
Digging up Sombra’s real name was fucking brutal, but once I had it, so many things fell into place. But this bitch is delusional if she thinks the fact that he’s Adora’s real father would change how I feel about her.
Her breath stutters, shocked.
“I don’t really care why he didn’t claim her — or you — back then,” I go on casually. “My guess? He sold you some bullshit story about keeping you safe, and Reggie was the idiot you needed so you wouldn’t end up an unwed mother. Because of course you’d care about that shit.”
I glance at her sideways. “How am I doing so far?”
She doesn’t answer, but her chest starts heaving. That’s answer enough.
I bend, slide the knife from my boot, and keep talking. “Your obsession with Diego never stopped. And when he resurfaced years later as Sombra, you were more than happy to crawl right back into his bed.”
I step closer, pressing the tip of the blade to her throat. She swallows so hard I hear it. Her eyes never leave mine.
“What I don’t get, Grace,” I grind out, “is why the fuck you treated Adora like shit. Since she’s the daughter of the man you loved and all.”
The fear seems to vanish. A thin, satisfied smile curves her mouth. It’s practiced — second nature. She’s pretending, but it’s a mask she’s worn so long it might as well be her own skin.
“You think you know so much,” she says calmly, smugly, “but you don’t know anything. I never treated my daughter like shit. I loved her. I always wanted the best for her. I gave her that.” Her smile stretches into an ugly grin. “I made her perfect.”
And just like that, everything clicks.
She’s not cruel. She’s not damaged. She’s fucking insane.
Her voice drops, low and reverent. “You have no idea how much Diego and I loved each other. How he protected me. He never left me, he was always there.” Her breath quickens. “Even when I got so angry that I made the mistake of having Elizabeth with Reginald.”
Her chin lifts, teeth grinding together, eyes gleaming.
“He even let me play with you in prison, just to keep me happy. He gave me everything.”
Her breath shudders.
“EVERYTHING!”
The scream rips out of her, raw and unhinged, loud enough to set my ears ringing.
I step back and drag a hand down my face. “Well,” I mutter, “this has been… enlightening.”
I pull my phone from my pocket, and glance at the screen. “But I have more important things to take care of now, so I’m afraid this is goodbye, Grace.”
Her expression flickers with shock, like she can’t believe how much she said. Or maybe she just doesn’t believe that I really don’t need — or want — to know more.
“You’re right about one thing,” I add, walking toward the door of the Fun House. “Adora is perfect. And I’ll make sure she knows that every single day.”
I knock quickly on the door three times, then turn back to her.
“You, on the other hand,” I continue, my gaze cold as a morgue slab, “are a fucking monster. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s monsters.”
I pause. Watch her breathing hitch.
“But you do have one thing in common with Adora,” I go on softly. “Actually, if the files I found are correct, your thing is much worse.”
I step closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “How’s your rat phobia these days, Grace?”
The door opens at the exact moment the breath catches in her chest.
Perfect timing — couldn’t have planned it better if I tried.
She starts thrashing, screaming for Sombra, hot tears streaking down her face. I shove the gag back into her mouth. My fucking ears have had enough.
Not even two minutes later, the rope holding her in place is cut, and she’s sealed behind a metal door with half a dozen rats. The fattest, ugliest motherfuckers Fang could get his hands on.
“Snakes are ready too,” Fang says, a satisfied glint in his voice.
“Give her half an hour,” I murmur, eyes fixed on the small trap door Fang used to dump the rats inside. “If she’s not already impaled by then and still screaming, we’ll throw in the snakes.”
Bones shows up a moment later, looking like hell, a six-pack hanging from his fingers.
“Viv and Myth checked in,” he says, dropping into a chair with a tired sigh and offering me a bottle. “They sniffed out a trail, but nothing solid yet on the Bowie front. Domino called too. Everything’s quiet at the bookstore. And Hellbat’s in position.”
“Good.” I take the beer, and crack it open. My chin jerks toward the box. “I’ll stay another hour. See this through.”
Thank fuck the screams are muffled. I’d lose my mind otherwise.
“Your circus, your monkey,” Bones grunts, taking a pull from his beer.
Adora
By the time Ghost steps into Next Chapter at closing, my mind is clear. He stops just inside the door and looks at me, a silent question in his eyes. I answer it with a nod and grab my bag and keys from the counter.
It’s time to finish the conversation we started in Ria’s van.
Domino steps outside first, half lost in his phone, thumbs flying as he mutters something under his breath. The bell above the door gives a tired jingle behind him.
Ghost follows, but pauses, stuck in place, instead of moving right away. For some reason, that makes my stomach tighten.
Something in his posture shifts. It’s very subtle, but I know him well enough to see it. Shoulders set. Chin dips. His gaze sweeps the street with narrowed eyes, slow and methodical, like he’s counting the shadows.
Then his focus snaps across the road, locking on the street corner to the right of Belladonna Brew.
It all happens at once.
I take a single step outside — Ghost’s arm slams across my chest, stopping me so hard I gasp.
There’s a screech of tires, like Death itself just released a scream above the entire town.
A sharp whoosh cuts the air right next to my head.
The window behind me explodes.
Glass shatters with a deafening crash, fragments spraying outward as the bullet punches straight through the window of my bookstore. My heart stutters, my brain lagging a full second behind reality.
Ghost spins instantly and pulls me into him, hard, crushing, his body turning so completely around mine that I disappear inside his chest. One arm locks around my shoulders, the other around my waist, hauling me tight.
Another gunshot cracks.
Then another.
Then more, too many to make sense of them.
I feel Ghost jerk against me.
One.
Two.
Three.
His body flinches, each impact punching the air out of my lungs. He grunts, breath hitching, but he doesn’t let go.
It’s all happening so fast, I don’t even realize when he starts dragging me down. He forces me toward the pavement, folding his body over mine like a shield. We hit the ground hard, his weight coming down on top of me, covering me completely.
Four.
Five.
Two more hits. My body counts them for me. My arms are trapped between us, pinned against my chest, his weight pressing me into the cold pavement.
Then tires screech again, and Death screams once more.
The gunfire cuts off as suddenly as it started, the sound ripping away down the street, leaving a ringing silence so loud it can only mean pain.
Has it been two seconds? Three?
I’m frozen. Completely still.
My mind can’t catch up, can’t decide what just happened or what I’m supposed to do next. I’m dimly aware of Domino shouting somewhere, of distant echoes and alarms, but it’s all muffled. I’m underwater again, drowning under black waves, my lungs crying.
Ghost’s weight shifts, sagging above me.
My body registers it first, then my brain.
His chest presses heavier against mine, his head dropping forward, his breath shuddering. Panic slams into me all at once.
I try to move my arms, but I can’t. He’s too heavy. He’s too fucking heavy. Please don’t do this. Please.
He lifts his head just enough to look at me. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, red and dark like poison.
Something in me howls, clawing at my insides.
The ringing in my ears swells until it silences everything else — the sound of bikes, footsteps, the world itself.
I can see his lips try to move as he keeps his eyes locked on mine, desperate to say something. But nothing comes out. Nothing comes out.
He tries again, and still nothing. Nothing.