He frowns. “I wish I had better news for you. But yes. Unless we find someone who can track him down, it is hopeless.”
It’s then that Autumn freezes, eyes pinching together in that weird way that makes my skin crawl. Phantom catches her right before she would’ve hit the ground, fanning her face with his hand.
“Baby, are you okay? Autumn, what’s wrong?”
Her eyes flutter open, blankly staring up at him as if her entire soul has been drained.
“It’s Krueger,” she whispers. “He says he can help.”
The Italian bikers exchange an unsure look.
“Autumn can talk to ghosts,” Amber informs them.
“STREGA!” one of them yells, stumbling backward towards his bike.
Lupo shouts something to him in Italian, forcing the man to come back, even though he looks at Autumn like she’s a witch.
Lupo’s gaze falls on Autumn, who’s holding her head in pain. “And this Krueger, what does he say?”
She pinches the bridge of her nose, clutching Phantom’s hand like he’s barely keeping her together. Then she cryptically stares at the sky, mumbling something none of us can quite make out.
“Babe, what are you saying?”
“He says the plane leaves tonight. You don’t have much time. He says you need to head east out of the city. There’s an airstrip there and a warehouse near the runway. If you don’t move now, you’ll miss them. Then she’ll be gone for good.” A single tear drips down her cheek, lip quivering with fear. “They plan to sell her in Mexico.”
Mexico?
Lupo seems impressed. “And a ghost told her all this?”
Drac nods. “Krueger was my dad. He kind of watches over the club for us.”
The handsome Italian biker grins. “I like your club. Must be nice to ride with ghosts. I know of this airstrip. We must hurry we don’t have much time.” He motions for us to follow him. “Someone should stay behind with the women, just in case.”
Luca steps forward. “I’ll stay.”
Phantom nods. “Me too.”
Two of the bikers hand them guns before taking a step back into their ranks.
“The rest of you will ride with us,” Lupo orders. “We save your girl tonight, or fucking die trying.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Mindy
Muffled voices are what wake me. But as my eyes blink awake, all I can see is a black veil in front of my eyes with pieces of light poking through.
My head aches like I’ve been hit over the head, and I’m fading in and out of consciousness, like I’m floating on a buoy in the middle of an ocean.
Pain wakes me in pieces. A pounding behind my eyes. Pins and needles crawling up my arms like tiny spiders. The ache in my jaw that tells me I screamed and at some point and paid for it.
The van door opens, and from beneath the fabric I see bright blinding light.
Someone says something in Italian. It’s gruff, barking out like an order, seconds before I’m discarded to the ground.
My knees hit first, one man holding me still by my zip-tied hands, while the other rips off my hood. They’re all wearing black masks.
Except two.
