TWO
THE GHOST OF WHAT WE WERE
ARIA
The judge’s gavel falls, and the sound hits like a gunshot.
“Case dismissed,” he says, and just like that, I win. Again.
The opposing counsel deflates beside me, mumbling something about appeals and procedures, but I don’t hear him. My client squeezes my arm, relief flooding her face, and I force a smile.
The courtroom exhales, half the crowd grateful, the other half furious. My client grabs my hand, tears streaking her mascara. “You’re incredible, Aria.”
I nod, smile, and slip away before the praise can stick.
Outside the courthouse, the February wind slices clean through my coat. Across the street, a biker leans against a Harley, head bent, smoke curling from his hand. The patch catches the light.
SAINTS OUTLAWS MC.
For a heartbeat, my chest seizes. The world blurs into the flash of chrome and thunder, Steel’s voice rough in my ear.“Keep your head up, counselor.”
I blink, and he’s gone. Just a stranger, just a memory. But my pulse still doesn’t get the message.
I pull my coat tighter and start walking, heels clicking sharply against the concrete steps. The city moves around me, impatient, faceless, loud. Cars honk, a bus hisses at the curb, someone’s arguing into a phone nearby. It’s all motion without meaning, a rhythm that never syncs with mine.
A snowflake melts against my cheek, and for a split second, I smell exhaust mixed with motor oil, like the ghost of a ride I can’t take anymore.
I left him standing in the rain the night we buried the General. He wouldn’t let anyone close, not even me. I told myself that leaving him that night was mercy. He buried his father, buried his faith, and there was no room left for me in that storm. That my leaving would keep us both from breaking. But driving away when he had no clue, that’s the part that still wakes me up some nights. He needed someone to stay, and I ran.
By the time I reach the law firm’s building, the world feels smaller. The glass façade reflects everything I’m not, polished, untouchable, cold. Inside, the elevator hums softly, carrying me upward into the version of myself that fits behind a desk.
My office sits on the tenth floor, all glass and edges. The city sprawls beyond my window, pretty, polished, and completely disconnected. From up here, it’s easy to pretend I’ve made it. Easier still to ignore how empty that feels.
Everything inside looks exactly the way a partner’s office should. Minimalist furniture, framed degrees, a wall of law journals lined up with military precision. Even the plants on the windowsill look perfect. Probably because they’re fake.
It smells like coffee gone cold and whatever lemon disinfectant the night crew uses after hours. No warmth. No life. Just order.
The desk is sleek steel gray, stacked with contracts and filings I can recite in my sleep. There’s one photograph I keep hidden in the bottom drawer. It’s of Steel and me on his Harley, both of us grinning like the world was ours. I keep it face down beneath a pile of depositions like it’s evidence of a crime.
The walls are white enough to echo when I close the door. My name glints on the glass in gold lettering:
Aria Brennan, Esq.
It shines like a win, but it feels more like a warning. I win cases here, but every verdict costs me another piece of something I used to recognize. Another piece of me.
I walk to the window, press my fingertips against the cold glass, and stare at the skyline until it blurs. Cars move below like tiny silver veins, pulsing through the heart of a city that doesn’t care who it eats alive.
This is supposed to be a success, but it just feels like survival with better lighting.
The hum of the building fills the silence. The printer down the hall chirps awake, someone’s heels clicking across marble, the faint buzz of fluorescent lights that never sleep.
I blink, and for half a heartbeat, I see him reflected in the glass. Broad shoulders, leather, shadow. I exhale, and he’s gone.
The Saints were my family once. Now my name is something they whisper like a threat.
The phone on my desk blinks red. One new voicemail.
I don’t know it yet, but the moment I press play, everything I’ve been running from starts finding its way back.
