บททั้งหมดของ Ghost on the highway : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

I turned off the engine outside the Saints’ clubhouse and let the rain wash over the hot metal. Silverhaven’s dockyard smelled of rust, the same as always, but the sign above the door had lost its fight. The word BIG flickered once and then gave up, leaving only the red outline of a saint casting light into the puddles. It’s been six years since I’d stood on these grounds and sworn I would never come back here again. The recorder hidden inside the cuff came alive like a tiny red eye that saw everything I couldn’t say. I was ready… so I swung off the bike, boots splashing and pushed the door in…Inside, the air hit me as memories I hadn’t asked for rushed in. The stale beer, motor oil, the almost mistakeable hint of blood… it all felt too familiar. Immediately I walked in, conversations died. Multiple faces turned in my direction, some I knew but most I didn’t. Half of them looked at me in disgust while the other half stared in shock and I felt… numb. The bar was filled up with bot

Luca’s words hit me harder than the rain outside and my heart was full of anger. What did he mean by Bishop says you ran with the cash? For a second I just stood there, the bulb above us swinging like it was trying to see who was lying between us. My mind ran through the last few days, every face I’d seen, every whisper that died when I walked into a room. Someone had set me up, and Bishop’s name on Luca’s tongue made it sting worse.“You believe that?” I asked finally. My voice coming out rougher than I meant it to. Luca didn’t answer right away. His jaw moved like he was chewing on his anger. “You’ve been back for what, a day? And already Bishop is already getting calls about missing money. Tell me why I shouldn’t.”“Because you know me,” I blurted angrily. I saw his face twist at how harsh my tone was but he didn't say anything because the door burst open before he could reply. Two of Bishop’s men came in, dripping from the rain, one of them was holding a small black duffel. The ta

The morning after Luca stormed out felt like a hangover without the booze. The kind that settled heavy in my bones and made every thought sting. The spark plug sat on the table, glinting under a thin blade of sunlight like it knew what I’d done — or worse, what I hadn’t.I couldn’t shake the look on Luca’s face when he’d left. Anger, sure, but beneath it something raw. Wounded. I didn’t know what hurt more — that he thought I’d used him, or that maybe, in a way, I had.I pushed the thought away and grabbed my jacket. The smell of oil clung to the air as I headed down to the garage. The others were already there, crowding around a stripped-down Harley, talking in low voices that cut off when I entered.Conversations dying when I walked in had become a trend lately.“Morning,” I said, forcing the word through clenched teeth.No one answered. They just kept working, pretending I wasn’t there. Except for Flint — Bishop’s right-hand dog. He stood near the workbench, wiping grease off his h

The highway blurred beneath my tires as I drove, headlights slicing through the night. My hands were tight on the wheel, knuckles white, heart pounding like a war drum.Bishop’s words replayed in my head. “Someone you trust is feeding me everything.”Every name that crossed my mind felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Every brother in the club, every handshake, every memory — suddenly, none of it felt safe anymore.The van rattled as I hit a bump. In the rearview mirror, I saw the lights again. Two sets, maybe three. They were closing in.“Damn it,” I muttered, slamming the gear.The engine roared. The van shot forward, gravel spitting behind me. The road wound into the backstreets leading toward the clubhouse — my home once, now a battlefield waiting to happen.I grabbed the radio clipped to the dashboard and flipped it on. Static hissed, then cracked into life.“Luca, you copy?”Nothing. Just more static.“Luca, pick up.”Still nothing.My pulse quickened. Something was wrong.I tr

The explosion didn’t sound like thunder.It sounded like the world splitting in half.The blast tore through the warehouse in a violent rush of heat and shattering metal, throwing Reiven and Echo off their feet. The shockwave punched the air out of Reiven’s lungs as the floor buckled beneath them. Smoke swallowed everything—thick, choking, metallic—and the building trembled like it was preparing to collapse.Reiven hit the concrete hard, Echo slipping from his grip as the ground cracked under their bodies. His ears rang violently. Hot dust clung to his tongue. For a moment, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t think.Then—“Reiven!”Echo’s scream ripped through the ringing, raw with terror.Reiven’s heart kicked back to life.He forced himself onto his elbows, coughing through the smoke, eyes burning as everything blurred and shifted in the chaos. Fire licked the far wall. Sparks rained down. Someone was groaning nearby—deep, guttural pain—and a shadow dragged itself acros