Page 23 of Ghost's Angel

I just need to figure out what I'm fighting against.

Through the front window, I watch Krystal load her car, shooting venomous glares at the clubhouse. I don’t feel an ounce of remorse at kicking her out on her ass. She knew better. She should have been more welcoming to my ol’ lady.

I’ll kick them all out if I have to, because what matters most is my sweet, stubborn angel who thinks she has to handle everything alone.

She's about to learn differently.

I didn't spend weeks watching over her, didn't finally claim her as mine, just to let her push me away now. Whatever demons she's battling in that pretty head of hers, we'll face them together.

First, I’ll deal with club business. Then tonight? Tonight I'm going to figure out exactly what's going on with my angel, even if I have to tie her to the bed and lick every inch of her sweet little body to get answers.

Actually, that's not a bad idea...

Chapter 15

Mira

I wait.

I wait until Ghost calls church and I hear the club brothers head off to their meeting room. Then I wait exactly seven minutes more before moving. My hands shake as I climb the stairs to our room. No. His room. I can't think of it as ours, not now.

The few possessions I brought fit easily into my duffel. As I fold his borrowed t-shirt and place it carefully on the bed, memories of last night flood my mind—his hands, his lips, the way he made me feel cherished and whole and…loved.

A tear splashes onto the shirt and I hastily wipe it away. I can't break down. Not yet. Breaking down comes later, when I'm far away from here. Far from him.

I pull out paper and pen, but what can I possibly write? How do I explain that I'm leaving because I love him too much to burden him with my broken heart—literally and figuratively? In the end, I simply write:I'm sorry. Please let me go. Don’t come after me. You deserve better than a dying charity case.

The word 'dying' blurs as more tears fall. I fold the note and prop it against his pillow.

Creeping downstairs is like navigating a minefield. Every creak of the old wooden steps makes me freeze, certain someone will stop me. But the prospects are focused on their duties, the patches are in church, and the club girls are pointedly ignoring me.

I make it to the gate before my luck runs out.

"Going somewhere?" The prospect—not Rash, thankfully—eyes my duffel suspiciously.

"Shopping." I force brightness into my voice. "Ghost gave me his credit card, see?" I flash the black card he gave me yesterday, the one I have no intention of ever using.

He shakes his head. "Sorry, but I can't let you leave without at least two prospects escorting you. Prez's orders."

"But I?—"

I finally catch a break when a commotion on the road behind us draws his attention. Two bikes roar through the gate, their riders wearing patches I don't recognize. When the prospect turns to verify their credentials, I seize my chance, slipping past him while he's distracted.

My heart pounds erratically as I speed-walk from the compound. Each step feels like a blow to the gut, but I force myself to keep moving. I'm doing this for him. Ghost deserves a whole woman, not one who will bleed every last penny from him. Not one who needs expensive surgery just to stay alive.

The late morning sun beats down heavily as I walk. And walk. And walk.

By the time the diner comes into view, my breath is heaving and my chest feels like it's being squeezed in a tight fist. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision, but I push on. Just a little further. Just...

The world tilts sideways. I reach for something to steady myself but my hands grasp empty air. The last thing I see is creepy Dave's shocked face in the diner window.

The concrete rushes up to meet me, but I don’t even feel the impact. Instead, I float in a void where there's no pain, no fear, no heartbreak. Just peaceful nothingness.

Somewhere far away, I hear voices. Urgent. Worried. Someone saying my name. Someone else screaming to call 911.

Let me go,I want to tell them.It's better this way.

But it's too much effort to respond.

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