Vesper POV
I don’t get it. Ghost walks around like being the Reaper of this club gives him the right to do whatever the hell he wants. Like his title somehow trumps mine. Like dragging bodies into ditches and handling club messes makes him more important than the years I’ve spent killing ghosts no one even knew existed. His rank here doesn’t outrank what I do. It doesn’t give him permission to take over my contracts.
Stepping out of the shower, I towel off the water and stare at the bruises covering my skin. My ribs are tender, my shoulder aches from when he slammed me into the concrete, and my thighs are marked by his grip. Half of them are from fighting. The other half? From the way he f****d me like it was a continuation of the same battle.
I don’t understand it. I’ve never really ha
