5. Luna

5

Luna

A few hours ago, the stars on the ceiling felt less fake.

Hope was more tangible.

My future made more sense.

Now, I don’t know what to think as I stare at the fading plastic specks above me. They’re losing light at the same rate I’m losing optimism, and I no longer know what to make of my being here.

Ghost lied to me.

Worse, he lied to the club on my behalf.

I’ve been replaying the first time I met him over and over in my head, trying to see it for what it really was—him doing his job.

While I thought we were flirting, he was watching from the start. He wasn’t there getting coffee; he was scoping me out and determining if I was a threat to his club.

His being at the coffee shop wasn’t fate. It wasn’t coincidence. It was business .

For over a year, I’ve held onto the idea that there was something between us. I thought this all started with a magnetic pull we couldn’t resist. He mentioned Vegas, and when I joked about following him there, he seemed genuinely interested. He vouched for me with his president. He gave me this job.

Now, it turns out, Ghost was keeping me close to confirm I wasn’t after his club.

Once again, I’m chasing a man who is incapable of giving me what I need from him.

Still, a nagging thought won’t let go. If he didn’t care at all, why would he risk it? Why protect me if it meant going against his club?

He could have let me take the fall a year ago when he caught me hacking his system. Knowing what I do now, I’m well aware that he should have turned me over to Steel so the club could decide what to do with me.

He didn’t.

Ghost thought I was working for the club’s enemies, and he still brought me to Las Vegas. He moved me in with him and has watched out for me ever since.

Ghost ignores me, but he broke his oath to his brothers for me . That has to mean something.

I pinch the bridge of my nose, but it does nothing to dull the ache between my temples. Rolling out of bed, I slip into my neon-pink, fluffy slippers and tie my hair up in a ponytail.

The clubhouse is quiet tonight since there was no official party, so I don’t hesitate to walk around in a T-shirt and slippers .

As I slip past Reina’s bed, she grabs my hand.

“You okay?”

Reina just went to bed a few minutes ago, so she’s still awake. She’s been spending time with Havoc lately, but never stays the night in his room. While she’s having fun with him, it’s not the same as it was when she was with Steel, so I’ve seen a lot more of her lately.

“I’m good.” I force a smile and squeeze her hand. “Just need to splash some water on my face. It’s hot in here.”

She lets me go, and I slip into the hallway quietly. The room I share with Reina and Wren is at the end of the hall, and on either side are doors leading to more bedrooms.

This side of the clubhouse is reserved for patch bunnies, clubhouse staff, and the chef. Meanwhile, the ranked members occupy rooms on the opposite end.

Between this hallway and the guys’ is the main body of the building, which consists of the kitchen, two large bars, and a main sitting area. Part of it is open to the public when the club allows it, but the rest is only for those of us who live here.

The bunkhouse is a detached building, and that’s where the prospects and newer members live.

For a split second, I let myself think this could be my home— my family .

That fairytale is gone now, all because of what I did without even knowing it.

If only Ghost had been honest from the beginning, I could have explained myself. But he hid it, and in trying to protect me, he made a mess of the one place I thought I belonged .

When I reach the bathroom at the end of the hallway, the handle is locked, and there’s moaning coming from the other side. There’s no shortage of beds at the clubhouse, but it doesn’t stop people from fucking on every surface.

I roll my eyes and continue past the kitchen into the main bar. Soul and Chaos are keeping the party going with a few patch bunnies, even though it’s already four thirty in the morning.

Chaos watches me with a calculated stare as I cross the room. I didn’t know him well before he went to prison, but since he’s been out this past month, he’s seemed different. Angrier. More closed off.

Soul, on the other hand, is much more relaxed when he smiles at me passing by. Which is probably, in part, due to the fact that he’s in the middle of getting a blow job.

I divert my gaze and continue through the room. The open debauchery shocked me for the first week I was here, but now I’ve seen so many of the guys fucking I barely even notice it anymore.

I’ve seen too many of their dicks for never having been near one of them.

Continuing to the bar in the front of the clubhouse, I cross the room to the bathroom that sits at this end of the building. It’s rarely used when the Twisted Kings aren’t throwing a party, so I’m surprised when the door swings open as I reach for the handle, and I almost collide with someone walking out.

“Sorry.” I take a step back, looking up into the cool gaze of the one man who makes my heart jump to my throat .

Ghost is in the middle of tugging his T-shirt down, giving me a hint of his tattooed, muscular chest. Ink covers every inch of him—from his knuckles to his neck, and I’ve always been curious what they mean to him. I’d like to learn the history of a man who is clearly haunted by it.

He winces as his T-shirt brushes his side, but I only get a glimpse of a wound before the fabric covers it.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He reaches into the bathroom, grabbing his cut off the hook and shrugging it on.

He barely looks at me as he starts to walk away.

“Fine?” I spin to face him, and he pauses with his back to me. “That’s all you have to say? Are you kidding me right now?”

He tips his head back, letting out a heavy sigh. His fingers dig into his black hair as he thinks.

“You knew, Ghost.” I take a step closer, immediately realizing my mistake when I get a hit of his warm leather scent. “You knew who I was working for, and you didn’t say anything to anyone. Not even me. I was hacking the club, and you vouched for me anyway. Why?”

He doesn’t turn around immediately as he dips his hands in his pockets. His thick shoulders rise with every inhale, and I stare at the back of his head, begging him to say something—anything—that explains this mess.

After a long pause, Ghost finally turns to face me. His light-blue eyes are cold and empty, but still, his attention makes goosebumps flurry across my skin .

His gaze skims down to my T-shirt. To my bare legs, prickling at his attention. And when his stare snaps back to mine, I have to swallow to catch my breath.

He’s a man of few words because he doesn’t really need them. One look, and I’m speechless.

Ghost shrugs. “Did you know who you were working for back then, Luna?”

I shake my head. “I already told you I didn’t.”

“Well, there you go. Nothing to worry about. I’ll deal with it.”

“You lied to your club for me.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You brought me here instead of turning me in.” I take a step closer again, and his jaw tightens at the movement. “But you barely pay attention to me, so why would you risk it?”

“Would you rather I have left you in New Mexico?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Ghost stares down at me silently. The warmth of our bodies nearly touching gives me a head rush, but I don’t step back. I look up at him and wish he would stop throwing up walls just so he doesn’t have to face what’s on the other side of them.

“Please, Ghost.” I press my lips together. “Tell me the truth. Why would you do that for me?”

He grinds his teeth, and I sense everything he’s holding back when I wish he’d just crack open.

After a long pause, he drops his chin and shakes his head. “You were innocent. I couldn’t let them hurt you. ”

He doesn’t clarify whether he’s talking about the Merciless Skulls or the Twisted Kings. He doesn’t need to.

Ghost was protecting me.

Flirtation might not have brought us together, but I’m not imagining this—he cares. He brought me here to keep me safe, and if he thinks I’ll let that go, he’s wrong.