He makes this low sound in the back of his throat that isn’t a growl, but a quiet, almost thoughtful hum. It’s the sound of a predator noting a trespasser. His expression doesn’t twist with rage; it simply empties, his gaze fixed on Ripper with a terrifying blankness.
After everything he’s gone through, I can’t help but wonder if a man in his shoes can feel fear.
He doesn’t pull me closer or make a show of it. He just… shifts his stance, a millimeter, placing his body more squarely between Ripper and me.
“Down, boy,” he says, his tone laced with a dry amusement that’s aimed entirely at Ghost. His eyes slide off me without a second glance, dismissing me as irrelevant to whatever silent conversation they’re having. “Wide-eyed does aren’t my type. Too much work. I prefer my company with a bit more… bite.”
His words are clear, almost clinical, in their disinterest. He isn’t trying to provoke a jealous man; he’s trying to de-escalate one by stating a simple, factual preference.
“Who is she?” Judge’s voice is a low rumble, suddenly closer as he breaks the silent war between the other two men.
Now that he’s near, I can see he’s older than Ghost, with the weathered look of a man who’s carried the weight of this kind of life for decades. Years of scowling have carved permanent lines into his face.
Even now, as he studies me, the bags under his eyes look less like a result of one bad night and more like a permanent fixture, the toll of a lifetime of hard decisions. He looks exhausted down to his bones.
“Remember the judge who was hell-bent on putting Stacks away for good?” Ghost’s voice is flat, but I feel the subtle shift in his posture, a readiness to protect. He jerks his chin toward me. “Meet his daughter. Eliza.”
Judge’s eyes narrow, scanning my face with an unnerving intensity. “Looks must’ve skipped a generation. Came from her mother’s side, I’d guess.”
The comment hits a nerve I didn’t know was exposed. I have no mother to compare to—just the story of a woman who died due to complications, a tale I’ve never had the courage or reason to question. The grimace is involuntary, a small, private pain I quickly try to smother.
“But she’s not just a ghost from the past,” Ghost continues, his voice dropping, taking on a new, graver tone. “She was a transaction. Promised to Blaze Walker in some form. He says marriage, but I don’t buy it. Not when he’s desperate to get her back.”
The air in the garage vanishes. The name lands not like a name, but a curse.
Ripper’s casual amusement evaporates, replaced by a cold, sharp fury that transforms his face into something ugly. “That fucker is still breathing?” he spits, the words laced with a venom that speaks to a deep, personal history.
Judge lifts a single, calloused hand, a simple gesture that instantly silences Ripper’s brewing storm. His scowl deepens, but his eyes are calculating, weighing a thousand variables in a second. “That doesn’t explain what she’s doing here, Ghost. You bringing a war to our door?”
“I don’t want to be involved with them,” I cut in, my voice small but clear, reminding them I’m more than a problem to be discussed. It wavers, betraying my fear. “If I don’t do as I’m told, I have nowhere else to go. Nowhere that’s safe.”
“They don’t know she’s here. If we lie low for a while—just for a few weeks—it’ll pass over. We shouldn’t have to worry about Crimson Road. They won’t be a problem.” Ghost doesn’t sound confident, and I’m sure we can all tell. “I’ll keep a close eye on them. You know I wouldn’t risk the club unless I felt the need to.”
Judge’s gaze doesn’t soften. “You can’t stay here. I can’t take that risk on a gut feeling. This is the last place I want them sniffing around.”
Ghost’s jaw tightens. “We don’t have anywhere to go. That’s why I brought her here.”
“Is there anyone we can send her to? Any family, friends?” Judge presses, his voice gruff with impatience. “Anyone not connected to this mess?”
The answer is immediate, a low, resonant vow that leaves no room for argument. “She’s not leaving my side.”
The sheer, unshakable seriousness in his voice sends my heart into a frantic, hopeful rhythm. Ghost makes me feel safe even when he doesn’t try to.
Judge turns away with a sharp curse, running a hand over his weary face. “Damn it, Ghost. Is it too much to ask for one fucking month where you boys don’t add to my gray hairs?” He turns back, his expression grim. “They’re going to come snooping. I can feel it in my gut. Ripper.” The VP straightens up, all traces of humor gone. “I’m calling church. Go put out the word.”
With an order, Ripper doesn’t waste time slipping out of the garage, already pulling out his cellphone to wake up who knows how many people.
Judge pinches his brow, sighing through his nose. “Now. We need to figure out where the hell you can stay in case they connect the dots. Even if you are good at what you do, there are always blind spots. Witnesses. Telltale signs that can be pieced together for a bigger picture.”
There’s only so much they can figure out here. Wishing I could be more helpful, it’s the moment that I start feeling useless that Ghost puts his attention on me. Like we’re on the same wavelength, and he can read my thoughts, he turns to squeeze my shoulder.
He’s not shy when it comes to making sure I’m alright. His gaze holds a weight behind it, steady and assessing. Has he always watched me like this, this silent concern tightening his features each time he saw me fraying at the edges whenever he hacked into our cameras?
The best I can offer him in return is a small, hopefully reassuring smile. I’m okay. Maybe a little uneasy, but I’m here. As long as I don’t have to go back to the loneliness I accepted as a normal part of life, I’ll be alright.
“They may get the sheriff involved,” Judge states, his eyes boring into us. “But the law’s the law, but she’s old enough to make her own decisions, right?” I nod, and he continues. “The only way they’re taking her that way is if she stands in front of him and agrees to go voluntarily.” His focus momentarily driftsto me, the question blunt and unavoidable. “Is she sure she wants to be here?”
Ghost stays silent, and I understand why. He can’t answer for me. He doesn’t know the war in my head, the way my thoughts keep circling back to the feel of his mouth on mine. That kiss probably confused everything for him, too.
