Chapter Forty-Nine

Safiya

M y heart stopped, my soul broke, and I stared.

Stared and counted.

Fifteen.

Fifteen women.

All like me.

No, not like me.

Fifteen young, beautiful women calling him Ghost as he addressed each one like he addressed me—with his full attention.

He hugged them. Four of them.

Then he spoke to them how he spoke to me—with dominance, authority, brevity.

Right before he strode across the room and picked one up.

Sixteen.

He picked up the sixteenth woman how he had picked me up.

Then he carried her how he had carried me.

He got her a sports drink.

How he had gotten me a sports drink.

He opened it.

Same as he had for me.

He held it out to her.

Same as he had held one out to me.

But then he dipped his head and met her eyes.

She drank.

His quiet voice carried across the room. "Good, angel."

I walked out of the room.