Guarded by the outlaw

Ghost's POV

The strong wind hit my face hard as I rode. The sky was dark and thunder growled like it was trying to communicate to me but I didn’t care.

Two years. Two good years of blood and silence.

I had concluded I would die a lonely unhappy old man who lived his life in grief. And now here I was, riding to my revenge. Luca Torres had burned my world and walked away from the ashes and life was giving me a shot to turn him to ashes too. 

Alighting, I stood in the shadows outside the garage, fingers flexing around my gun, watching him work like he was just another mechanic. He had grease on his hands and sweat on his brows. There was no sign of the monster that’d torn everything apart for me, just a man working his ass off. 

He bent over an engine, muttering under his breath, completely unaware that the karma had come knocking. I stepped forward trying to be as quiet as I could and stopped in front of him.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” I said. 

Instantly, the wrench slipped out of his hand and clattered against the floor. His shoulders went rigid even before he raised his head. I was sure he knew it was I. 

And slowly… he turned. For a split second, time froze as I closely beheld the face I had trusted too often and the eyes that once felt like home. They looked hollow now and his face older, but it was still him. 

Still the man who had worked side by side with me and thereafter destroyed my life. He looked shocked like he had seen a ghost and that alone made me feel fulfilled. 

“Ghost,” he finally managed to whisper.

“Don’t.” My voice came out low and sharp. “Don’t you dare call my name.”

His throat bobbed. “You found me.”

“Hard not to when the dead start walking.”

He didn’t move. “You’re really here,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” I said. “And you’re supposed to be six feet under the ground.”

“I guess life’s full of surprises.”

“You think this is funny?”

He shook his head. “No. I think it’s sad.”

My jaw tightened. “You destroyed my family. You sold us out.”

His eyes flickered and a distant expression clouded them. “I didn’t…”

Slowly, I slipped my hand from my back and raised the gun aiming straight between his eyes. “Doesn't matter what you have to say. You’re supposed to be dead but since you are miraculously alive, I will do you the honour of sending you back.”

“Maybe you should.” He sighed. 

“Yeah,” I hissed. “I should.”

Silence stretched heavy enough to crush us both as I studied the man I was ready to kill. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might break the ribs that were holding it in as I contemplated what exactly to do. 

He didn’t move or beg. He just stared at me like he’d been waiting for this moment.

“I didn’t…”

“Don’t!” The word ripped out of me, raw and loud.

I shoved the barrel against his forehead. “I watched you walk away while everything burned that night. I was in the shadows, you don’t get to lie to me.”

His eyes flickered as something flashed through. Pain? Regret? I really didn’t care.

“I had no choice,” he said quietly.

“Bullshit.” My finger hovered over the trigger. “We always have a choice.”

He exhaled. “Then do it.”

“Do what?”

He lifted his chin, gaze steady. “Pull the trigger. End it. You have a choice too.”

“So you're that hungry for death?”

“I deserve it.”

A bitter laugh escaped me. “You think that’s justice?”

“No.” His voice didn’t shake.“I think It’s mercy.”

I pressed harder. “And you think I’m here to give you mercy?”

“I just think you’ve been waiting for this,” he said. “So just do it and put me out of my misery”

My jaw clenched and the weight of the gun made my hand tremble. I could end him with just one pull. In a matter of seconds, his blood could be on the floor and balance be restored. But something in his eyes stopped me.

He looked like he’d already died a thousand times before and I didn't want him to be free from whatever pain he was living with. 

“So you think death’s a way out and not a punishment?” I asked. He said nothing and that confirmed my thoughts. “You think dying fixes what you did, yes?” My voice cracked, rage splitting into grief. “You think it's some sort of restitution?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I just think it's what I deserve.”

I stared at him, the gun still pressed to his head.

For two years, I’d dreamed of some sort of revenge to help with my pain. The quest for vengeance devoured me. But now… this? This looked like redemption for him and that was the last thing I would let him have.. 

“You don’t get to take the easy way out, and I will make sure you don't.”

He blinked slowly. “What does that even mean?”

“It means I want you to live,” I said, voice low and sharp. “I want you to breathe every damn second of what you did. You’re gonna wake up every day and remember the faces you burned and the blood you spilled. You’ll live long enough to beg me for death, and I’ll still say no. I, Ghost, will make your life a living hell.”

He looked down. “Maybe that’s fair.”

“Damn right it is.” I lowered the gun, grabbed his collar, and slammed him against the wall. “Now you’re coming with me.”

“I can't do that?”

“Well, young man. You will. “Let's go to the place where traitors go to confess.”

He didn’t fight or resist me. He just let me drag him through the rain and out to the bike.

“You’re quiet,” I muttered, pushing him forward.

“What’s left to say?”

“How about the truth?” I asked, shoving him onto the back seat. “You’re gonna talk. You’re gonna tell me everything.”

“And if I don’t?”

I met his eyes over my shoulder. “Then I’ll make you.”

“Do what you have to.” The calmness in his voice made me want to scream.

Channelling my rage somewhere else, I turned on the engine and climbed into the high way. We rode in silence, thunder cracking overhead punctuated by lightning. The ride should’ve calmed me down but it didn’t. It only made it worse.

By the time we got to the compound, my hands were shaking from more than the cold. I turned off the engine. Grabbed him by the arm and ragged him toward the old storage room out back — the one we used for rats, liars, traitors.

The door creaked open and an awful stale smell hit us. “Well, welcome home,” I muttered.

He glanced around. “I always knew it would end like this.”

“Shut up.”

I shoved him into the chair, chained his wrists tight.

He didn’t fight. Didn’t even flinch when the metal bit into his skin.

“You’ve got a lot to answer for,” I said.

“Then ask.”

I paced in front of him, gun still in my hand. “Why’d you do it?”

“I told you. I…”

Boom! A loud explosion rent the air. Then the first shot came right after it, and another followed.

 “We’re under attack!” someone yelled from the gate and my body instantly grew cold. 

“Not again.”

Engines roared to life and loud boots ran past the room as everyone tried to take position. “I will be back for you.” I said and bolted out the door. 

I drew my gun and ran toward the noise. The place was in a state of chaos. Brothers were shouting orders, bullets slicing through the dark and lights flashing against the walls. The smell of gunpowder waa thick and choking.

I ducked behind a truck, returning fire as figures moved beyond the fence. I couldn’t tell who they were yet. Maybe a rival club, cartel,or someone else entirely. But it didn't matter. What did was that they came for blood and we were not going to give them that. 

In the midst of all the chaos, my thoughts kept slipping back to the room at the back of the yard. I hadn't remembered to bolt the door and if the bastard wanted to, now was the time to find a way out. 

“No,no,no. That's not possible. Not under my watch.”.

Impulsively , I ran through the cross fire dodging a bullet by an

inch and disappeared round the corner and back to the room. 

But as I opened the door and stepped in, one thing was certain. Luca was no longer there.