Page 16 of Ghost

“Just let me do this.” I shrug off my cut, hanging it on a hook just inside the door. “We both know this is how things work, and it’s for a reason.”

Legacy doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t argue because he knows I’m right.

At the opposite end of the Shack, Steel, Havoc, and Chaos stand around the pit of red-hot coals.

Physical pain isn’t something that scares me when I know there are worse things than flesh wounds. Scars, cuts, and bruises are nothing compared to what marks my soul.

At least the body heals—mostly.

What’s rotten inside can never be fixed.

Legacy grabs my shoulder as I take a step forward. “Ghost—”

“I’m the reason the Iron Sinners put a target on our backs after Albuquerque,” I cut Legacy off. “You saw the text message. Everyone did. Whoever hired Luna is with the Iron Sinners now, and they want her back. They don’t like that I brought her here, and they aren’t going to stop. The club is going to pay the price because of what I did. It’s my fault.”

Legacy releases my shoulder so I can strip off my T-shirt. I hand it to him, and his jaw tightens as he bites back whatever he wants to say.

He knows I’m right, even if our brotherhood makes it hard for him to digest it. The Twisted Kings aren’t just biker outlaws; we’re a family. We fight for each other. We die for each other. I turned my back on my brothers by not telling them the truth, which means I need to pay for that betrayal.

“Jesse—”

“Go.” Legacy takes a step back, not looking any happier than when I walked in here.

Unlike the rest of us, Legacy actually has a heart buried beneath his cut.

I wish I still did.

It’s been so long since I’ve had hope or faith that I don’t remember what it’s like. All I know is that someday, I’ll sacrifice my body and soul for the Twisted Kings, and my job will be done.

There’s nothing more for me on this earth. Not even the girl I did all this for.

Luna’s too good for a man like me. Too sweet. She didn’t even know who she was working for when this mess started, and I didn’t want to weigh her down with my secrets, so I kept it to myself.

I don’t know what’s worse: lying to my president or lying to her. That thought is proof alone I deserve this.

I move to the center of the Shack, meeting gazes with each of my brothers as I do.

Havoc hands Steel the branding iron, taking a step back. Hesitation is thick in the air, but it doesn’t change what needs to be done. And when Steel turns to me with the brand in his hand, I’m not face to face with a lifelong friend or a brother. I’m staring down the cold eyes of the club president, out for a pound of flesh.

The Twisted Kings have a three-strike rule for dealing with brothers who’ve fucked up. The first strike results in a skull brand to the ribs. The second, and you get an X over it. Third, and you’re six feet under.

Not that you always get three chances.

Betraying the club usually ends with a grave, but the club voted for the brand, given all I’ve done for them. It might sound lenient, but it’s a mark I’ll live with. Proof of what I did.

Taking a deep breath, I accept this for Luna. I give in to the promise of pain as I stand in a dusty shack that’s been painted with the blood of our enemies. I set my mind to another place and another time, picturing Luna instead of my brothers circling around.

I imagine how her eyes light when she smiles.

How her hair falls around her cheeks when she tries to tie it back.

Up until a year ago, there was nothing more important than my brothers because they wouldn’t let me give up in the darkness. But then there was her.

My light.

So bright I can’t risk actually touching her. I can’t risk my shadows drinking her glow.

My brothers circle around me, with Steel unflinching before me.

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