Standin’ under the glow of the clubhouse lights the night before. Chin high. Spine straight. Eyes burnin’ with that quiet, stubborn bravery of hers. A woman who shouldn’t have fit in my world and somehow did. A woman who looked at me like she wasn’t scared of a damn thing I could say or do.
A woman who’d already rooted herself somewhere deep.
By the time I pulled into the clubhouse, the air hung thick and warm, the kind of heat that promised a brutal afternoon. The place looked the same as always. Red siding. Black trim. Bikes lined up like loyal soldiers.
But somethin’ in me shifted the second I killed the engine.
I should’ve gone inside. Grabbed coffee. Let the noise drown me out. Instead, my eyes drifted to the stretch of woods behindthe clubhouse. The same path where she’d walked beside me the night before.
Empty now. Quiet. Still.
But the pull was there. Sure. Tuggin’.
“Ghosts,” I muttered, shakin’ my head.
Hell. Maybe I wasn’t the one huntin’ anymore.
Maybe I was the one bein’ found.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE MORNING CAMEtoo fast. Light slipped throughthe blinds, gold and soft across the room, but it felt too bright — too exposed.
Today was the day. My first shift at High Voltage.
I sat on the edge of the bed, twisting the silver bracelet around my wrist, one of the only things I kept from that hell, a gift from a mother I barely remember. The metal was smooth under my fingers, something solid when everything else still felt uncertain.
The sound of bikes outside drifted faintly through the window, low rumbles that seemed to echo through thefloorboards. The clubhouse was already alive, laughter, music, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen. This place never slept.
I should’ve felt ready. I’d told myself I was. But the thought of walking into that bar, surrounded by strangers, men who lived by their own rules, made my stomach twist.
I’d been watched my whole life. Judged, punished, trained to obey. Now no one was watching, and somehow that felt just as terrifying.
I dragged in a breath, rubbing my palms against my shorts. “You can do this,” I whispered. “You’ve survived worse.”
A knock sounded on the door.
Before I could answer, a familiar voice called softly, “Hey, you up?”
I opened the door to find Sable standing there, coffee mug in one hand, her dark hair braided over her shoulder. She looked more rested than the last time I’d seen her, softer somehow, but her eyes still held that same quiet understanding that only someone from our world could carry.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning,” she echoed, stepping inside. “Lucy told me today’s your first shift.”
“Yeah.” I tried to smile. “Guess it’s time to start pretending I know what I’m doing.”
Sable handed me the mug. “Start with caffeine. Pretend later.”
I took it, grateful for the warmth seeping into my hands. “You ever get used to it? Being out here?”
She leaned against the dresser, thinking for a moment. “Used to it, yeah. But it’s not something you stop feeling completely. The noise, the people, the freedom, it’s a lot after growing up in silence.”
I nodded. “Sometimes I still wake up and think I’m there.”
“Me too,” she admitted quietly. “Some nights, I still smell the smoke.”
That made my throat tighten. “It doesn’t go away, does it?”
