My eyes flew open, and panic set in like a hard kick to the gut. I shot up in bed, my heart loud inside my ears, my eyes darting frantically across the dark bedroom. The only light seeped in from the full moon through the blinds, striping the walls and floor in pale white lines.
I wiped a shaking hand across my forehead, brushing away the cold sweat gathering there. A slow, irritated sigh escaped my lips.
It was just a nightmare.
The same nightmare that infiltrated my sleeping hours like a ghost out for revenge.
This ghost was born the moment my mother died. I didn’t remember what happened that night. Everything I knew came from Dad—or at least the parts he was willing to share.
A rival gang had descended on our house, supposedly wanting money and goods from my dad’s illegal stash. If
