He disappears into what is clearly a highly secured room, and I force myself to keep walking, guilt immediately washing over me. But I can’t shake the feeling that whatever Ghost keeps locked away might be exactly what I’m here to find.
Information about Marcus.
About whatreallyhappened to my brother.
I race back to my room and grab a pen off the desk, scribbling the numbers on a scrap of paper. My hands shake slightly as I slide it into the back of my phone case, hidden but accessible.
Then I crawl into bed and finally,finally,feel sleep pulling at me.
Tomorrow isdefinitelygoing to be a long day.
Chapter Thirteen
ELIZABETH
New Year’s Eve Morning
While the club celebrated the festivities in its own way, I spent Christmas with my parents. I had a couple of days away from the club, but I am back just in time to watch the guys gear up for their annual toy run.
I did ask Ro why they give out the toys after Christmas on New Year’s Eve, and she told me that December is already jam-packed with events, rides, and charity runs. Holding it on New Year’s Eve means less competition with other toy drives and Christmas commitments. It allows the club to stand out with its own unique tradition rather than blending into the sea of December charity rides. The ride becomes a final year-end gathering—a mix of charity and celebration before the big New Year’s party or lockdown at the clubhouse.
It makes sense that they want to stand out, and it’s also a way to drag out the end-of-year cheer for the kids. Yet another way the club is making itself look like the good guys.
I stand back, shaking my head with a genuine smile as the rumble of Harleys warming up in the parking lot vibrates through the clubhouse walls, a sound that’s become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat. I stand at the clubhouse window, watching the brothers gear up for their annual toy run, their leather cuts gleaming in the morning sun. The sight should fill me with warmth, watching these rough men prepare to bring joy to underprivileged children, but instead, my stomach churns with guilt.
Today is the day. While they’re out spreading cheer, I’ll be betraying their trust.
A sharp pain shoots through my temples, and I press my palm against my forehead, wincing. The stress of the last few weeks has been building, and now it feels like someone’s driving nails into my skull.
“You all right there, Lizzie?” Ro’s voice startles me from my internal turmoil.
I turn to find her watching me with concern, her usually wild hair tamed into small braids for the ride. She looks every inch the biker’s club girl in her leather and denim, but her eyes hold genuine warmth.
“Just a migraine starting,” I say, the lie sliding off my tongue easier than it should. “I don’t want it to get worse before the New Year’s Eve party tonight.”
Ro frowns, stepping closer. “That sucks. Maybe you should rest up, make sure you’re fighting fit for the festivities?” Before I can respond, her voice carries across the common room. “Sin! Lizzie’s got a migraine. She should sit the ride out, don’t you think?”
My heart lurches as Sin appears in the doorway, his mismatched eyes immediately finding mine. Even in the morning light, he’s devastating to look at, his dark hair slightly tousled, his jaw shadowed with stubble. The memory of his mouth on me, his hands claiming every inch of my skin, three nights ago, floods back with devastating clarity. “You wanna go home, get some rest before the party tonight, wildcat?” he asks, sauntering toward me with that swagger he is known for.
“Don’t be silly,” Ro continues, oblivious to the tension crackling between us. “No point driving home when you feel like shit, right, Pres?”
Sin’s gaze holds mine for a long, charged moment. I easily see the war playing out behind his eyes, the same push and pull that’s been driving us both crazy for weeks. Finally, hisexpression softens, and he gives a small nod. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rougher than usual.
But then Ro widens her eyes like she’s remembered something. “Oh shit, I just put the sheets in the room you’ve been staying in, in the washer… so the bed isn’t made up. Fuck I’m sorry, Lizzie!”
I go to wave it off like it’s no bother, but Sin cuts in before I can say anything. “You can sleep in my room while we’re gone.”
The offer hits me like a physical blow.
His room.
His bed.
“Thank you,” I manage, hoping my voice doesn’t betray the typhoon of emotions swirling inside me.
He simply dips his chin, then turns, walking back to his men to continue to prepare for their day of spending time with kids in need. I don’t know what it is about knowing that Sin spends the day of New Year’s Eve helping needy children, but it makes me weak for him.
And that is bad.
