Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Phoenix
Ghost is still asleep when I slip out of bed.
If you can call it sleep. It’s more like a ceasefire.
His face is slack, but not peaceful. Like whatever war tore through him last night is just biding its time until the next strike.
The blood on his chest dried in streaks I didn’t clean.
Not because I forgot, but because I needed to see it when I opened my eyes.
I need to remember how far it almost went.
I stand in the doorway, watching Ghost’s chest rise and fall in a slow and unsteady rhythm. I want to believe he’s still him. Whatever flickered across his face, whatever shadow whispered through his voice last night didn’t root itself too deeply. But that lie tastes stale in my mouth.
Ghost didn’t touch me with rage or confusion or even panic. He touched me like he wasn’t in there at all. Like his body was on loan to someone else.
I’ve seen that look before. Not in him, but on the battlefield. In an ops, they swore were classified and sealed.
Psych breaks that didn’t make sense. Soldiers who stopped blinking. Men who said they felt something crawling behind their eyes.
They buried the files. Burned the evidence. But they didn’t kill the science.
I find Poison and Kitty in the safehouse kitchen, already half into her second cup of coffee. She clocks me without turning around. “You look like hell.”
“You should see the other guy,” I murmur. Poison doesn’t laugh, and neither do I.
“I need to show you something.” I slide the burner across the table.
Blood smudges the side from when Ghost dropped it last night.
The photo still on the screen is what we found in the warehouse.
Vale’s lieutenant ripped open and posed like a cautionary tale.
The words sprayed across the wall like a curse:
She rides with Death. He is already ours.
Poison reads it once, then again. Her jaw tightens, “It’s him.”
“Vale,” I state.
“No.” Poison shakes her head. “Ghost. They’re targeting him. That was a message, a warning, and a claim.”
“I know.” I sit down across from her, my fingers tapping a twitchy rhythm I can’t stop. “But I think it’s more than just threats.”
She lifts a brow. “Go on.”
I take a breath and say the words that scare me more than bullets ever could. “They’re doing something to him. Psychologically. Maybe chemically. Ghost said he’s seeing things. Hearing things. He grabbed me last night and didn’t even know it. And I don’t think it was him that grabbed me.”
Poison stares. Not shocked. Just grim. “You think it’s Hollow Sons tech?”
“No. I think it’s legacy tech. Something from his past.” I hesitate, then add, “He mentioned a precinct-level op. Black budget, hush-hush mental conditioning trials on cops. Something about rewiring instinctive threat responses. He said it was shut down.”
She snorts. “They never shut that shit down. They just rebrand it.”
I nod. “And now someone’s restarted it. Or repurposed it. And they’re using Ghost’s history as a blueprint.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of it sinking between us. Then Poison leans back and mutters, “MV’s gonna love this.”
MV’s got the screen split. One feed on the alley security cam where Ghost swore he saw Vale, the other on a redacted file MV unearthed under a shell company tied to a federal pilot program from eight years ago: Project Hollow Response.
It wasn’t just mental conditioning. It was a behavioral override. They used drugs, triggers, and repetitive stimuli embedded in video and audio files. Used on trauma survivors to rewire the fight-or-flight response.
“Check the source company,” I say, pacing.
MV zooms in while Viper whistles low. “Red River Medical. That’s government, not street-level cartel stuff.”
“Exactly,” I say. “The Hollow Sons didn’t invent this. They inherited it. Or stole it.”
Gypsy adds, “That warehouse wasn’t just a murder scene. It was a test site. They were watching how Ghost reacted.”
“And the writing?” Kitty asks from the corner.
Poison answers for me. “Scripted. A trigger.”
MV talks through the speakers. Their voice is still mechanical, even though we all assume they’re female. “Or a lure. They wanted him there. Wanted you there to see how far they could push.”
I clench my jaw. My hands itch for my gun, but this isn’t a target I can shoot. This is a war of shadows and whispers, and Ghost is caught dead center.
“He’s being pulled apart from the inside,” I say quietly. “And we don’t know how deep they’ve gone.”
Viper glances over. “You think he’s compromised?”
“I think he’s haunted,” I reply. “But I’m not giving up on him.”
Silence. No one pushes back.
Gypsy speaks, careful and slow. “Phoenix, what if there’s a command phrase we don’t know? What if next time he’s holding a blade and doesn’t come back?”
“I’ll bring him back,” I say without blinking.
“And if you can’t?”
My answer is a whisper wrapped in steel. “Then I’ll go wherever they sent him and drag him back with my bare hands.”
Ghost slept for six hours. That was it. Long enough for the blood to dry, for his skin to cool, for the quiet in his head to either settle or regroup.
He didn’t scream when he woke. Didn’t punch or lash out.
Just sat there on the edge of the bed, bare feet on cold tile, hands braced on his knees like he wasn’t sure if he were about to stand up or fall apart.
I didn’t touch him. Didn’t speak. Not until he looked up at me with eyes that still flickered like static behind glass. “I need to know what’s happening to me.”
So I take Ghost’s hand and lead him into the kitchen with the rest of my sisters. Poison watches him carefully, while Viper, Scissors and Gypsy continue to unlock the web of deceit MV uncovered.
“Project Hollow Response,” I respond when we’re stopped in front of the laptop.
“MV found the files. It wasn’t easy, not even in the corners where they usually lurk.
It was buried in a shell corporation six doors removed from the government.
Red River Medical was funded through federal emergency response grants.
The program was initiated twelve years ago in major metro precincts, including yours. ”
Ghost runs his hand through his brown hair and sits down on the chair, pulling me into his lap. “Yeah, I remember this.”
MV’s voice comes through the speakers again.
“I’m sorry to have to make you live through this again, Ghost, but it’s important we get all the facts I can’t find.
What I did find was that it’s a behavioral override via trauma-loop stimuli.
A synthetic serotonin cocktail to boost aggression-response, with instinct remapping through augmented threat exposure. ”
I sit on Ghost’s lap, stunned. His hands tighten around my waist, in fear that I’ll run away from him.
They didn’t just condition men to fight.
They trained them to become trigger weapons to respond when a specific sight, sound, or phrase passed their threshold.
To act without hesitation. To forget who they are.
Ghost sits still while MV reads it out loud, his jaw is locked so tight I’d think he’d crack teeth. I watch the file’s contents bleed across the screen, and I feel something rise in my throat that I can’t swallow down.
They did this to him. And someone, either Vale, the Hollow Sons, hell, maybe both, is reawakening it.
“You really think they’re using his past precinct’s trial to manipulate him?” Wendigo asks, arms crossed, as we huddle in the kitchen.
“Not think,” I snap. “I know.”
Gypsy nods grimly. “I cross-referenced the chemical formula they tested with a sample I found at the warehouse raid. The residue Vale’s guys left, it shares three key markers.”
“So, they’re reactivating him like some kind of sleeper agent?” Viper asks, intrigued.
Poison cuts in. “They’re trying to erode who he is. Make him doubt himself. Make us doubt him. That’s how you dismantle loyalty, start by shattering the self.”
“She rides with Death. He is already ours.” Scissors reads the spray-painted message again from the photo that Viper printed.
“Targeted,” Viper says. “They knew he’d show up. They wanted him to see that. Feel it.”
“And what?” Kitty asks. “You think they’ve got a remote control for his brain?”
“No,” I say. “They’ve got something worse.” Everyone looks at me. “They’ve got ghosts.”
We all grew up with monsters. We all fought to survive. But what they’re doing to Ghost isn’t just about control, it’s annihilation. They want to wipe him from the inside out. Strip him down until there’s nothing left but violence they can point like a gun.
But the thing they didn’t count on? Me.
It’s nearly midnight when the house finally settles.
The MC’s downstairs, posted up in rotations. Viper and Gypsy are running decryptions on Vale’s last few message interceptions. Wendigo’s back on surveillance sweep, like she’s itching for someone to try them again.
Ghost is sitting on the edge of our bed again. He hasn’t said a word since we left the kitchen.
I shut the door behind me, cross the room, and stand in front of him. “You didn’t touch your food.”
He shrugs. “Didn’t feel hungry.”
“You sleep?”
Another shrug.
I sit down next to him. Close, but not touching. If he needs space, I’ll give him space. If he needs blood, I’ll give him that too.
“I read every line of that file,” Ghost finally says. “And all I could think was, what if I’m not me anymore?”
I turn my head. “You are.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I could have killed you last night.”
“You didn’t.”
He flinches, looking away like the truth cuts deeper than a lie.
“I felt something,” he says, quieter now. “Last night, when I grabbed you. I was outside myself. Watching. Powerless. And it was familiar. Like a habit I forgot I had. That scared me more than anything else ever has.”
I reach for his hand, slow and careful. “Then let me be the thing that breaks the habit.”
He finally looks at me. Eyes haunted, but alive. “You still believe I’m worth saving?”
“You think I’d be here if I didn’t?”
“I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
I squeeze his hand. “Then I’ll make another promise.” Ghost waits. “I’m not giving you up. I don’t care what they did to you. What they triggered. What they made you believe. You’re mine, Ghost. Not theirs.”
He leans his forehead against mine. His voice breaks when he says it. “What if I can’t come back next time?”
“Then I’ll come find you,” I whisper. “Even if I have to tear their world apart to do it.”
His lips brush my cheek. His breath is uneven. But his grip on me is solid. His hot breath fans across my lips, and I kiss Ghost with everything I have. I pour all of my love and fear of losing him into our kiss.
Ghost pulls back slightly to remove my t-shirt and bra. He licks and nibbles until he’s at the valley of my breasts. I hold his head in place while he breathes me in. I release his head and stand up, shimmying off my jeans and panties while toeing off my boots.
Ghost removes his jeans and tears his shirt over his head, dropping it behind us. Then he gently pushes me until my back meets the bed. He hovers over me with a desperation and hunger in his dark eyes.
I widen my legs, making room for his body. Ghost’s chest brushes against mine, and a groan escapes my lips. His long, thick length is hot against my center.
“I need you.” I plead. I don’t care how desperate it makes me sound. I need Dean Ghost Mercer.
“You have me.” Dean leans down and kisses me.
We’re all tongue and teeth as he deepens our kiss and surges inside of me. Pleasure wraps around my body like a cocoon. Dean pulls back and snaps his hips forward, driving himself as deep as my body will allow.
“Fuck.” I groan when he does it again and again.
“I’m not going to last long.” Dean clenches his teeth together. “You feel too damn good.”
I wrap my legs around his waist and buck my hips when he pushes forward again. I flip us over so I’m on top and he’s on the bottom.
“Shit.” Dean hisses through clenched teeth.
This position drives him deeper into me. I sit up and shift my hips. I know I’m not going to last long either. With our bodies in sync, and Dean’s hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, we both reach our peak together and fall over the edge.
Once we come back down, I lie on my side against Dean’s body. His hands are tracing up and down my arm, creating goosebumps to break out on my skin.
He’s breathing just as hard as I am. “I’m scared, Scarlett.”
I hold back tears. Dean never uses my real name, so I know he’s serious. I tighten my grip around his waist. “I am, too. But I will not let them take you away from me.”
“I know and I trust you.”
I pick my head up and stare into Dean’s eyes. “I love you, Dean Mercer, and I refuse to let you go.”
He leans in and kisses me gently. “I love you, Scarlett Kane, and I won’t let them take me without a fight.”
I use the bathroom and wash up. When I come back out, Ghost is sitting upright against the headboard. He’s shirtless. Bare skin over twitching muscle. He doesn’t want to sleep, and neither do I.
“I felt it,” Ghost finally says. His voice is raw. “I felt myself go cold. Like something cracked open and poured in.”
I sit next to him and press my hands to his back, grounding him with my touch.
“They used my own memories,” he whispers. “That phrase, ‘blood for the hollow’, I heard it during a briefing, years ago. I thought it was just ops slang. But last night… it activated something. Pulled me somewhere that I had no control.”
“Then let me be the thing that pulls you back in,” I say. “Let me be louder than them.”
Ghost turns. Finally. His eyes are glassy but alive. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
“You won’t.” I press my forehead to his. “Because whatever they put in you, I’ll burn it out. You are not theirs. You’re mine.”
Ghost’s breath hitches. His hands shake, but they wrap around me tightly. And in this moment, I don’t care if I have to carve his soul out of every lab-grown command in his brain.
I feel it, underneath the fear. The fight. He’s not slipping.
He’s still burning. Still himself. Still ours.