Dax slammed his car door shut, rubbing his hand over his face as he stepped into his apartment, the silence feeling heavier than usual. He didn't even bother turning on the lights, just kicked off his boots, tossed his keys on the counter, and pulled his phone from his pocket.

No new messages.

He exhaled sharply, unlocking his phone and hitting call.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Voicemail.

His jaw tightened.

Erin never ignored his calls. Unless she didn't want to answer.

He paced once, then dropped onto the couch, running a hand through his hair.

She'd come back. She always came back.

The night air was cool against her skin as she sat on the back of Ghost's bike, gripping the seat lightly.

The streetlights flickered past, the hum of the engine the only sound as her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket.

She pulled it out.

Dax.

She stared at the screen.

The call kept ringing.

Her thumb hovered over the screen for a second.

Then she pressed ignore and shoved the phone back in her pocket.

Ghost didn't say anything, but she could feel him glance at her through the side mirror.

She wasn't ready to face Dax yet.

The bike accelerated, the city blurring past as Ghost took her somewhere only he knew.

The bike slowed, rolling onto a quiet side street away from the main roads. The air was cool, the hum of the city distant now, softened by the sound of the engine idling as Ghost pulled into a gated complex.

Erin frowned as the metal gate slid open automatically, Ghost rolling them through like he'd done it a hundred times before. She half expected him to live in some run-down garage or an old biker clubhouse, something rough, barely held together, like the way he carried himself.

This was different.

The building was modern but understated, all concrete, steel, and smoked glass. No signs, no markings, just a quiet, out-of-the-way place that blended into the background.

Ghost pulled into a covered space, killing the engine before swinging off the bike.

"Where are we?" Erin asked, pulling off her helmet and shaking her hair loose.

"My place."

She arched an eyebrow. "Since when do ghosts need an actual address?"

Ghost smirked slightly, tossing his keys in his palm. "Since they got tired of living out of a duffel bag."

Erin didn't comment, just followed him through a side entrance, up a set of stairs, and down a quiet hallway lined with heavy black doors.

Ghost stopped at one near the end, unlocking it with a quick swipe of a key card before pushing it open.

Inside was nothing like she expected.

The apartment was minimalist, clean, almost too organized, like someone lived here but didn't actually exist in the space. A leather couch, a low glass coffee table, a few framed photos on the wall, cityscapes, old racetracks, nothing personal. The kitchen was sleek, all dark wood and matte black appliances, untouched, like it had been put there for decoration.

The only thing that stood out was the helmet collection near the far wall. Dozens of them. Old racing lids, motorcycle helmets with faded numbers, even a few that looked badly damaged.

Ghost noticed her staring. "Souvenirs," he said simply, shrugging off his jacket.

Erin scoffed. "Weird collection."

"You keep old engine parts. Same thing."

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.

Ghost walked toward the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing two bottles of water. He tossed one to her. "You can take the couch."

"You sure? Hate to kick you out of your own bed."

Ghost gave her a look. "Not happening."

Erin exhaled, rolling her neck. "Fine. But don't think this means I trust you."

Ghost smirked slightly. "Didn't expect you to."

She stared at him for a second longer, then sighed and dropped onto the couch, letting her head fall back. Her mind was still spinning. Jamie. The race. The people behind it. Yet right now, she was sitting in Ghost's place, ignoring Dax's calls, letting herself get pulled deeper into something she wasn't sure she was ready for.

Ghost leaned against the counter, watching her. "You should get some sleep."

"Not happening."

"Then don't think too hard."

Erin scoffed. "That's impossible."

Ghost tilted his head slightly, like he knew something she didn't. "You're your brother's sister, alright."

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ghost just shook his head. "Get some rest, Calloway." And with that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving Erin alone with a thousand unanswered questions and a feeling she couldn't shake. Something told her that this night was just the beginning.