Erin's lungs tightened, her pulse hammering like the bass of an overpowered subwoofer.

This wasn't how this night was supposed to go.

Ghost had answers, sure. But not like this. Not something that made her feel like the world had shifted beneath her feet.

Her hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. "No." Her voice was shaky, her breath uneven. "No, you're lying. It was just a race. He lost control. I saw the crash report..."

Ghost exhaled slowly, setting his cup down with deliberate care. "Jamie didn't lose control. He was never supposed to win."

The words hit her like a freight train. She shook her head violently, trying to push the thoughts away, but they clawed at her brain, her chest, her gut. Her brother. Her everything. The reason she left. The reason she stopped racing. It had all been a set-up? Her vision blurred. The diner's neon lights seemed too bright, the air too thick, and suddenly she was suffocating. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, hands trembling.

Ghost's expression didn't change, but his body language did. His shoulders tensed, his jaw shifted, his fingers flexed against the table. He had seen this before. "Breathe, Calloway." His voice was low, calm, steady.

She barely heard him. Her mind was spinning, too fast, too much. Her chest heaved, but no air was getting in.

Ghost was suddenly beside her, one firm hand gripping her wrist. "Look at me."

She did. And for the first time, she saw something she hadn't expected. Not cold indifference. Not calculating distance. But familiarity.

Like he'd seen someone fall apart like this before. Like he'd been there. "Breathe in through your nose. Hold it."

She tried. Failed. Tried again.

Ghost didn't let go. "Now out. Slowly."

Her pulse hammered against her skull, her chest burned, but after a few more breaths, the weight on her ribs started to ease. She dragged a shaking hand through her hair, blinking rapidly.

Ghost still hadn't moved. For a guy who was supposed to be unreadable, there was something quietly knowing in his stare. "You done spiralling?" he asked.

She swallowed, forcing a bitter laugh. "For now."

Ghost nodded. "Good. Because I can't let you ride back to Dax like this."

Erin's stomach tightened. "I can handle myself."

Ghost leaned back against the booth, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Dax already doesn't trust me. You think I'm gonna let you show up looking like you've been through hell? He'll try to bury me before I can explain a damn thing."

Erin hated that he was right.

Dax had been holding back the last time he saw Ghost. Barely.

If she walked in like this, shaken, wrecked, lost, Dax wouldn't just hold back anymore. He'd go after Ghost.

And Erin couldn't let that happen. Not yet. Not until she knew everything. She rubbed her temples. "So what, I just crash here for the night? In some grimy back room?"

Ghost smirked slightly. "Nah. I've got a place nearby. You can crash there until you get your head straight."

Erin exhaled, leaning back against the booth. She wanted to argue. Wanted to fight him on it. But her body was too exhausted, her mind too overwhelmed.

Ghost was the only one who had answers.

"Fine." She grabbed her coffee, finishing it in one sip. "But you better have more to say in the morning."

Ghost tilted his head. "That depends. You ready to handle it?"

Erin met his eyes. Still shaken. Still angry. For now, she wasn't running from it. "Yeah." Her voice was steady. "I am."