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I step closer despite myself, heart hammering in my chest. Staring at the disc, I see that it’s small. So ordinary looking that I wouldn’t have seen it as dangerous even if I were looking right at it. It doesn’t look like something that could wreck your life.

Tusk tosses it to Ghost, who catches it in mid-air. Ghost inspects it for a moment before announcing, “It’s an AirTag knockoff.”

Tusk says, “I agree. It’s got good range and the battery lasts weeks.”

I swallow hard and my palms get sweaty.

“I thought he might do something like this, which is why I installed a tracking app on my phone. The app picked it up now, but not before. Maybe he’s only just put it on?”

“It’s a knock off. It might have been on for longer and it’s only now that it’s synched to your phone,” Ghost says grimly.

Tusk says, “That doesn’t make much sense. Why would your ex need to track you if he already knew where you were?”

My hands start to shake, and I clench them into fists at my sides.

“Because he’s unhinged?” I offer by way of an explanation.

“Hey,” Ghost says, voice softer now but no less intense. “Look at me.”

He steps in front of me, blocking my view of the woods. Of the open road. Of everything else. That’s when I realize that I’m looking around, half expecting my ex, Jerry, to be lurking behind every tree.

I force my eyes up to his. His brown gaze is steady, solid, and fierce.

“You’re safe right now. We’re gonna handle this. You hear me?”

I nod, but it’s small and shaky.

Ghost shoves the small disk into his pocket and lays his hand against my back. He’s not pushing, just being there for me, trying to make me feel safe. His touch is the only thing that’s keeping me from freaking out right now, spiraling into a well of fear.

“Come on,” he says gently. “We need to talk to Zen about this. If anyone can help us find this fucker, it’s Zen.”

“Who’s Zen?” I ask.

“Our IT guy. He’ll crack open this device and help us find out for sure who planted this. Maybe it’s your ex or maybe it’s some other unhinged lunatic. Whoever it is, he’s about to have me on his ass.”

I bite my lip hard enough to taste blood but nod again.

Ghost’s hand stays light against my back, as we head towards his bike.

And even though the tracking device is in Ghost’s pocket right now, the real danger could be lurking around any corner. Or it could be a hundred miles away. I can’t shake the feeling that he’s already here, watching, waiting, and ready to finish what he started.

***

The ride to the clubhouse is a blur for me.

I don’t remember climbing onto Ghost’s bike.

I don’t remember sliding my arms around his waist or the moment he kicked the engine to life.

All I remember is feeling the pounding of my heart against my ribs, the raw scrape of fear up my spine, the way Ghost’s body stayed solid and unmoving between me and the rest of the world.

Ghost doesn’t say anything as we pull onto the road, gravel spitting out behind us.

He just rides. He’s an experienced biker who maintains expert control of his bike.

Our ride is fast, steady, and our bodies lean as he takes the sharp curves.

Ghost is my rock, and I don’t know what I’d do without him.

The clubhouse comes into view, tucked behind a line of trees and a fence.

I noticed on my first visit that the fence looks more decorative than defensive, until you notice the cameras tucked into the corners, the reinforced gates, the brothers hanging out front with easy smiles and probably guns hidden under their cuts like Ghost has.

Something about this situation makes me feel safe, rather than scared.

Ghost rolls straight down the driveway with Tusk and Bear at his back without slowing down.

One of the prospects swings the gate open the second he sees us coming. Ghost doesn’t even have to ask. When a brother pulls up, the gate opens without question.

We pull up to the front entrance, where a handful of bikes are lined up like sentries. Ghost kills the engine, and I slide off the seat, boots hitting the ground harder than I mean to.

He glances at me, brows low over his dark eyes. “Are you holding it together?”

I want to say yes. I want to lie. But I just nod, because the truth is, I’m holding it together by a thread.

“How’s your stomach?”

“It’s still good,” I tell him, trying to sound casual. To be honest, my stomach is churning again, though this time it’s not from sickness, but anxiety.

Ghost doesn’t push me anymore. Instead, he just jerks his chin towards the front door and says, “Come on. Zen’s inside.”

When we walk through the front doors, everyone glances at us. Several brothers throw their hands up at Ghost and smile. A few throw me admiring looks. I just press myself closer to Ghost and he wraps his arm around me.

Their overt friendliness doesn’t make the fear crawling under my skin ease up. I know they don’t mean any harm, but I’m all tapped out when it comes to social graces right now.

Inside the main room, a guy I’ve never seen before sits at a battered wooden table, a laptop open in front of him, wires and devices scattered like a mad scientist’s lab. He’s lean, all angles and sharp edges, with a messy ponytail and a Monster energy drink gripped loosely in one hand.

He looks up when we enter.

“Hey, Ghost. I got your text. Grab a seat and let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ghost tosses the tracking device onto the table, sits down, and pats the chair beside him. I sit down huddling close to Ghost.

“What’s up with your office? I’ve never seen you drag your equipment out into the main room with the rest of us riffraff. Thought you were scared we’d mess with your shit.”

Zen’s smirk disappears. “My office is being rewired. And that shit cost thousands so hands off.”

He picks up the device, turning it over between two fingers.

“We found this on her truck,” Ghost says, voice tight.

Zen whistles low. “Cheap, but effective.”

He sets down his drink and cracks his knuckles. “Gimme ten. Maybe fifteen if they’re smart.”

He pulls a cable from the mess and plugs the device into a black box with blinking lights.

I sit quietly beside Ghost watching Zen’s fingers fly over the keyboard.

I’m really scared that this is my ex. And these bikers are taking this seriously as well. And that’s somehow even scarier than if they were acting like it might be some kind of mistake.

Zen works fast. His fingers fly over the keys, bringing up lines of code and black screens full of numbers I can’t even pretend to understand. He’s muttering under his breath, something about encryption layers and cheap knockoff tech.

Ten minutes later, Zen clears his throat and leans back in his chair, sipping his caffeine drink again.

“Well,” he says, tapping the screen, “whoever planted this isn’t exactly subtle.”

Ghost stands up and looks over Zen’s shoulder.

“I want to know who this fucking device belongs to. Can you tell me that?”

I stand up and join Ghost, looking at the computer screen.

“It’s registered to a burner phone. No contract, no ID. But people are lazy as hell. He didn’t scrub the metadata. I pulled the associated accounts.”

He taps again. A name that sickens me pops up on the screen.

Jerry Masters.

My breath catches in my throat and for a long moment, I can’t breathe. My world tilts out of alignment.

“It’s him,” I whisper.

Ghost’s hand finds my lower back, steadying me before I even realize I’m swaying.

Zen’s voice cuts through the fog. “You know him?”

“He’s my ex,” I say. I concentrate on just forcing myself to breathe through this moment. I thought that man was in the past.

Zen whistles low, spinning back to his keyboard.

“Shit, I’m sorry to hear that.”

I barely hear him. All I can see is Jerry’s face, the way he used to smile. The ugly curve of his lips that used to send shivers down my spine. I remember the way he used to watch me when he thought I wasn’t looking. The way he used to talk about bikers like they were scum.

“You wanted me?” Siege’s voice cuts through my spinning thoughts. He’s pissed. I can tell by the tone of his voice.

“Yeah, Prez. You need to see what I found,” Zen says, his voice serious.

“Thought we’d seen the last of that fucker,” Siege mutters.

“Traitorous scum,” Rigs adds.

I blink at them, not understanding.

“No, Jerry hated bikers. He used to talk trash about them all the time.”

All Siege says is, “Tusk.”

Tusk steps closer and pulls the back of his t-shirt up to display a full back tattoo that I’ve seen before. Jerry had that same tattoo. Glancing around the clubhouse, I see it on the back of every brother’s vest. How had I missed that?

Siege asks sarcastically, “Look familiar? If I’d caught the fucker I would have burned it off him.”

I nod, unable to speak.

Rigs explains, “He was one of ours,” his voice is low and flat. “Savage Legion. Before he got thrown out for selling out the club to our enemies.”

Ghost jerks to attention. “I’ve heard that story.

He must have been one of the brothers loyal to Butch back in the day.

The way I remember it, Butch and his VP wound up dead at the hands of the Hellfire Hounds club president, King.

The others ran away to keep from facing retribution from the Legion. ”

The room goes so still I can hear people breathing.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My Jerry was a biker, a full-fledged member of the Savage Legion MC.

I can’t reconcile what I know about Ghost’s club with that asshole who ruined my life.

They’re saying he was thrown out for betrayal though, so maybe this does track after all.

“Why didn’t he ever tell me?” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else.

Ghost’s hand presses a little firmer against my back.

“Because if you knew him as Carnage, you’d run. I’ve heard all the stories about that asshole. He was one of the nastiest fuckers from the old crew that Butch ran.”

Zen looks up from the screen, his face serious now.

“He planted that tracker in your truck while it was parked in the driveway of a fully patched brother of the Savage Legion. That wasn’t a fucking accident or a coincidence.

He’s not just looking to get his woman back. He’s planning something more.”

Ghost’s jaw flexes, his eyes hardening into something I’ve never seen before. It wasn’t just anger or protectiveness. It was pure blind rage.

“He’s using your woman to get to the club,” Siege states quietly.

“He’s not getting near her,” Ghost says, his voice steely. “Not now. Not ever.”

And the way he says it is filled with determination. And for the first time in months, I believe it.