That confession hit harder than Buck expected because Ghost hid everything behind jokes and smirks and sharp teeth, but this was real. Buck stepped closer slowly. “You really want this?”
Ghost met his eyes directly. “Yeah.” His voice dropped rougher now. “I want her. And I want you. Maybe that makes me selfish, but I’m done pretending otherwise.” Buck exhaled heavily. Years of repression and years of denying parts of himself, and now suddenly everything stood out in the open beneath a frozen northern sky. It was terrifying, if he was being honest with himself.
Ghost’s grin returned slightly. “Besides, somebody’s gotta help keep your emotionally constipated ass from scaring her off.” Buck barked out a rough laugh despite himself before the radio clipped to his vest crackled violently, and Reaper’s voice exploded through the static.
“Buck, get back here now,” he ordered. Every muscle in Buck’s body tightened instantly.
“What happened?” he asked. Static hissed over the radio before Reaper said the words that turned Buck’s blood to ice.
“She’s gone.”
Ghost
For one full second after Reaper said she was gone, Ghost stopped breathing. Beside him, Buck went terrifyingly still. Not angry, just still. Ghost had seen that look exactly once before—Thunder Creek, right before Buck snapped a man’s arm in three places and left him screaming in the snow for touching one of their prospects. This was worse.
“What do you mean?” Buck said quietly into the radio.
Static crackled hard across the airwaves. “We lost power for thirty seconds,” Reaper answered. “When backup kicked on, her room was empty.”
Ghost’s stomach dropped. “She wouldn’t leave willingly,” he said immediately.
Buck’s jaw flexed. “No, she wouldn’t,” Buck agreed. The certainty in his voice hit hard because Ghost believed it too. Wren might argue with them. Hell, she gave them a fight around every corner, and she took pleasure in driving Buck insane with her stubbornness, but she trusted them now. And trust like that didn’t disappear in thirty seconds.
Buck was already moving toward the SUV before Ghost finished his cigarette. “Buck.” He didn’t respond, and Ghost caught his arm hard enough to stop him. “How about we take abeat to think about our next move before we make it?” he asked. Buck turned slowly, and Jesus Christ, Ghost had never seen his eyes look like that before. Staring back at him in Buck’s dark eyes was pure violence.
“She’s gone,” Buck said roughly.
“I know,” Ghost said. “I was standing right next to you when Reaper told you about her.”
“They took her!” Buck shouted, pointing into the dark woods.
“Probably.” Ghost kept his grip firm, particularly for fear that Buck would just take off on him if he let go. “Which means charging in blind like a fucking animal won’t help her.”
Buck looked one second away from breaking something, but Ghost stepped closer instead of backing down. “Listen to me,” he said quietly. “If they grabbed her alive, it means they still need her breathing.”
Buck’s breathing roughened. Ghost saw the logic hit him beneath the rage. “She’s useful to them,” Ghost continued. “Which buys us some time.”
“Not enough time,” Buck whispered.
“No,” Ghost agreed honestly. “But it gives us enough time to think about our next move.” Buck dragged a hand through his hair violently before shoving Ghost away and pacing through the snow, and Ghost let him, because Buck needed movement right now or somebody was going to die.
The wind howled across the ridge, and finally, Buck stopped moving. “They cut the power at the clubhouse.”
Ghost nodded. “It means somebody knew the compound layout.”
“Exactly,” Buck said. He looked back toward the destroyed watch post. “They had inside help.” The words settled ugly between them. Ghost hated how much sense it made. The Vultures knew too much—the rotations, the watch points, and Wren’s room. But worst of all—they knew about him and Buck.
SHE CHOSE BOTH.
Ghost lit another cigarette with shaking fingers, not from fear, but from fury, because somebody had watched Wren long enough to see the way she looked at them tonight. That thought made something possessive and vicious rise inside him, and now he understood Buck’s problem.
“You know what kills me?” Ghost muttered darkly. Buck looked over at him, silently watching him. “She was starting to relax around us,” Buck said. The memory hit hard of Wren curled beneath Buck’s blanket upstairs and how her hand slipped into Buck’s and his, just before they left. The tiny smile she gave Ghost when he teased her like she was finally starting to feel safe.
Ghost exhaled smoke hard through his nose. “And we fucking failed her by leaving her alone at the clubhouse.”
Buck crossed the distance between them instantly. “No.” The raw force in his voice startled Ghost slightly. Buck grabbed the front of Ghost’s kutte hard. “Don’t say that.” Ghost stared at him, and God, he was beautiful. Snow collected in Buck’s dark hair while rage and fear battled behind his eyes.
“You hear me?” Buck growled. “She’s still alive.” Ghost swallowed what he was about to say because Buck needed to believe that right now just as much as he needed oxygen to keep breathing.
