Page 69 of A Witchy Spell Ride
Hope.
I didn’t regret it. Not for a second.
But it scared the shit out of me. Because I couldn’t tell where the line was anymore — between wanting him and needing him to survive this. Between real and spell. Betweenmeand whoever I was becoming under all this weight.
I went to my room.
Briar wasn’t there, which meant she was either building a booby trap in the hallway or charming Thorne into letting her carve jack-o’-lanterns with a machete. Both were equally likely.
I peeled off my hoodie. Opened my duffel bag and started rummaging for my eyeliner. And that’s when I saw it. Another note. Folded neatly. Tucked into the side pocket of my makeup bag. Not my duffel. Not something someone could have dropped in casually. No, this meant he’d unzipped it. Touched it. Gone through it.
I froze. My heartbeat turned hollow in my ears. Fingers trembling, I pulled it free. The paper was soft. Like it had been held too long. There was only two sentences. Just two.
He kissed you.
But I know you better.
The words burned. Not just because of what they said. But how they said it. He was watching. Listening. But more than that… He was claiming understanding. Intimacy. He thought he knew me. Like Ghost didn’t. Like Ghost couldn’t.
And the worst part? He’d hidden it in the most personal place he could find. Not a door. Not a drawer. Not a mirror.
But something mine. Something I touched every day. Something close to my face, my skin, my reflection.
It felt like a violation all over again. I nearly ripped the note in half. But I didn’t. I grabbed it, shoved it into my pocket, and marched out of the room.
The hallway was half-dark. Music played low in the background. Someone, probably Ash, was swearing at a video game in the next room.
I didn’t stop. Just kept walking. Straight to Ghost’s room.
I didn’t knock.
I didn’t wait.
I opened the door like it was my right.
He was standing near the sink, shirtless, towel over his shoulder. His eyes locked onto mine like they’d been waiting.
I didn’t say a word. Just held out the note.
He read it. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe. Then he crumpled it in one hand and said, low and dark:
“He was in your room.”
I nodded.
“I posted someone on the door.”
“Then he wasn’t seen,” I whispered. “Which means it’s someone already inside.”
Ghost looked at me. Really looked. And the fury in his gaze turned sharp, not just anger anymore. It was promise.
“I’m going to find him,” he said.
“I know.”
“And when I do, Selene…” He stepped closer, voice like thunder under silk. “I’m not going to be kind.”
I should’ve flinched. I didn’t. Kindness was for people who made mistakes. This was not that.
