บททั้งหมดของ Guarded by the outlaw : บทที่ 21 - บทที่ 30

The ride back to the clubhouse was quieter than either of them expected. Ghost’s cut ached with every bump, a constant reminder that he was still alive, but just barely. Luca, sitting behind him, didn’t speak, though his fingers occasionally brushed Ghost’s back as he adjusted his hold. Ghost ignored it. Almost.The quarry had left them both raw, exhausted, and oddly wired. The adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet. Neither had the awareness that, despite everything, they’d survived the ambush together.By the time they pulled into the Serpents’ lot, the first hints of dawn were staining the horizon. The club’s neon sign flickered in the early light, humming against the quiet. A few brothers were already stirring, bikes idling, voices carrying in half-laughs and half-grumbles. Ghost didn’t acknowledge them. Not yet. He stopped the bike near the garage. “Stay put,” he muttered to Luca. “Until I check in.”Luca didn’t move. His eyes lingered on Ghost for a moment too long, and Ghost could

The night was dense and still, the kind of darkness that pressed against the chest and made every sound sharper. Ghost stood at the edge of the canyon road, the first light of moon catching the jagged cliffs around them. Luca crouched beside him, gear strapped tight, eyes scanning the horizon. The rest of the Serpents were hidden in shadows, ready for the signal.Ghost checked his watch. Timing was everything. The cartel’s shipment would pass this choke point any minute. He had traced the supply runs meticulously, studying the patterns, calculating the speed and spacing of the convoy. Yet even with all the prep, the unknown always lingered.“You ready?” Ghost asked, voice low.Luca tilted his head, a faint smirk cutting through the tension. “I’ve been ready my whole life. But you? You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”Ghost ignored the jab, his hand brushing the weapon at his side. “Stay sharp. This is our first real test. No mistakes.”Luca’s eyes softened just for a

The clubhouse smelled of sweat, motor oil, and burned gunpowder. Ghost leaned against the garage wall, shoulders stiff, muscles aching from the night’s strike. The warehouse operation had been a success, but it had left every man exhausted and raw. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by soreness, fatigue, and a persistent undercurrent of tension.Luca was nearby, unpacking gear methodically. His movements were precise, almost surgical, even as the bruises and minor cuts along his arms and ribs became more visible in the harsh light. Ghost could see the faint flush along his jaw, the tight set of his shoulders. He hadn’t expected the man to be this tense, this focused even now, when the immediate threat was gone.“Sit down,” Ghost muttered, finally breaking the silence.“I can’t,” Luca said quickly, brushing a hand over a scrape on his forearm. “We need to go over the next move. Cartel will adjust after what we did.”Ghost’s jaw tightened. “You need rest. You can’t think straight if

The clubhouse felt heavier than usual. Dust hung in the air, mingling with the faint smell of gunpowder, sweat, and metal from the bikes parked in the garage. Ghost leaned against the edge of a workbench, sleeves rolled up, rubbing at a fresh graze along his forearm. Pain radiated in pulses, but it was manageable. Survival had taught him to endure worse.Luca was nearby, methodical as ever, cleaning his rifle and attending to minor scrapes along his ribs. Even exhausted, he moved with precision, and Ghost couldn’t stop watching him, the faint curve of his jaw, the way his hands flexed as he worked. There was a rhythm to Luca that had nothing to do with combat, a rhythm Ghost was quietly drawn to.“You should rest,” Ghost muttered, voice low, not wanting to break the fragile quiet.Luca shook his head, eyes sharp. “Can’t. Cartel will regroup. We need a plan for the next move.”Ghost’s jaw tightened. “You’re pushing yourself too hard. Again.”“And you’re worrying too much,” Luca repl

The night was colder than usual. Fog rolled over the highway like a living thing, curling around the abandoned docks where the Serpents were preparing for the next strike. Ghost adjusted his gloves, checking weapons, scanning shadows for any hint of danger.Luca was beside him, silent, focused, but Ghost noticed the tension in his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes. He didn’t ask; he didn’t need to. They both knew instinct better than words.The initial approach went according to plan. Rhino and Switch took vantage points along the containers, while Ghost and Luca slipped into the shadows to intercept the convoy. But as they rounded the first corner, Ghost froze.The crates, they were empty. “Something’s wrong,” Ghost muttered, motioning for Luca to halt.Before Luca could respond, headlights pierced the fog, and the roar of engines echoed. Men in black tactical gear poured out from the mist, surrounding the Serpents’ position. It wasn’t the cartel, they were too organized, too s