Page 30 of Ghost

“Perfect fit! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I screech, jumping into Devon's arms and placing a big, smacking kiss on his cheek. I’ll find the other guys and give them some special baked goodies as a thank you.

Pulling back from his grip, I turn to the crowd and yell, “Who’s ready to get this party up and grooving?”

“YEAH!!!” cheers ring up around the place, and I turn back to look at Crypt, who's got his laptop connected to the systems running the place. I give him a chin lift and shoot finger guns his way, my sign to let it rip. The lights dim, the streamers go on, and the speaker thumpsGreat Balls of Fire.

Everyone scatters, and the sound of pins being stacked and balls released takes over. Eek! This is really happening. I didn't think it would all come together like this, but I’m happy to see it come to life. I only wish my other family were here to see it. Not that this hasn't been one of the best days of my life, but the only thing that could have made it absolutely perfect was my girl being here.

I didn't even bring it up to Devon, but my feelings might have been showing on my face. I’m not sure, but I was surprised when he brought it up three nights ago.

“We can invite them if you want,” he said as I lay my head on his chest.

“It’s too dangerous for everyone involved. They need to keep their family safe, and I need to keep you all safe,” I tell him.

“I could figure it out. You know that,” he said softly, and I know he could, but I won't be the reason someone gets hurt.

After I told him that he let it go, I could still tell it wrinkled his peacock feathers a bit that he couldn't do this for me. I love him even more for that. I’ll just have to use him as Kevlar when Lyra finds out she didn't get the invite. As tough as Devon is, she might just be madder than a hornet in a honey pot and sting right on through him.

The sound of laughter and the satisfying crack of bowling pins fill the air. The grand reopening of the alley is officially a hit. Kids are darting around with shoes a size too big, couples share greasy nachos, and the clatter of skeeballs dropping into chutes mixes with the occasional triumphant whoop from a high score. It’s perfect. Nostalgic. Comfortable.

I lean against the bar, sipping a soda and taking it all in. The vision—my vision—come to life.

But then I see him.

At first, he doesn’t stand out much. He’s in the corner by the arcade, dressed in dark clothes, hood up, hands shoved into his pockets. He’s not playing skeeball or chatting like everyone else; he’s just…watching. His gaze roves over the lanes, the kids laughing near the pinball machines, the bar where I’m standing.

I brush it off. Maybe he’s just awkward, new to the area, or trying to work up the courage to join the fun. The alley’s packed with people from all walks of life tonight, so I let it go.

But an hour later, I see him again.

This time, he’s along the front counter, lingering near the shoes. His head turns sharply, eyes darting back and forth like he’sscanning the crowd. My stomach tightens. There’s something off about how he moves—furtive, like he doesn’t want to be seen but doesn’t care if he is.

I set my drink down and look for Devon. He’s somewhere in this chaos, probably playing foosball with the guys or joking around by the lanes. Before I find him, I glance back.

The guy is gone. And in his place, a black nylon backpack sits on the bar.

It’s not just the bag that grabs my attention. It’s the watch sitting on top—one of those bulky digital ones with a bright green display. Even from a distance, I can see the seconds tick down, faster than I think they should.

My breath catches in my throat.

I spin around, scanning the room for Devon or any of the boys again. My heart pounds in my ears. Where the hell are they? My legs feel like lead as I take a shaky step forward.

When I turn back to the bar, the watch is still there, counting down.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Ghost

The place is alive tonight, buzzing with a kind of energy I haven’t seen in a long time. Tizzy nailed this, and I couldn’t be more proud. Lanes are full, the bar’s packed, and the sound of pins crashing to the floor is like music. It’s exactly what she envisioned for this place, and I have to admit, even begrudgingly, that she may have been right. Posting up at the bar, I am settling into conversation with Lambert and Hag…

But then he walks in.

The guy doesn’t fit. Dark clothes, hood up, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to disappear into himself. He hesitates just a little too long by the door, scanning the room like he’s sizing it up. My gut clenches. Years in the military taught me to trust that feeling.

“Two o’clock,” I murmur to Omen, who’s leaning against the bar next to me.

He doesn’t react outwardly, just shifts his eyes to follow mine. “Got him.”

Around the room, the rest of the guys pick up on it, too. It’s a subtle thing—Taz adjusts his seat to get a better view of the lanes; Caesar leans casually against the arcade wall, arms crossed, but his eyes are locked on the stranger. This isn’t our first rodeo.

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