Ghost's Angel (Shadow Reapers MC Book 1) by Oona Ryda

Author:Oona Ryda [Ryda, Oona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lovestruck Romance
Published: 2025-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Mira

My body feels lighter than it has in months—maybe years—as I nestle deeper into Ghost’s soft sheets. Thanks to finally getting a full dose of my medication and some much-needed rest, the flutter in my chest is now more butterfly wings and less angry hornets.

The morning drifts by in a haze of catnaps and quiet contemplation.

I appreciate Ghost’s kindness tremendously, but I can’t dispel the nagging hunch that he brought me here for a reason. That there must be a price to pay for his generosity. Nothing in life comes free—that's one lesson the foster system taught me well.

A knock on the door is followed by a voice that calls out, “Mira? Can “I come in? I've got lunch for you."

It's the prospect who brought my medication earlier—Rash is what Ghost called him, which is a strange name. He's been bringing me snacks intermittently all morning, each time with an earnest, eager-to-please smile. I’m beginning to suspect someone is trying to fatten me up.

"Come in, Rash," I call out, yawning and raising my arms in the air to stretch the sleep from my body.

He enters carefully balancing a tray loaded with a steaming bowl of soup, fresh bread, and what looks like homemade cookies. “I’m supposed to tell you to eat all of it," he announces proudly. “Prez’s orders."

My heart does a funny little skip when he mentions Ghost, one that has nothing to do with my medical condition. "Speaking of Ghost, where is he?" I try to keep my voice casual, but Rash’s knowing grin tells me I'm not fooling him.

“Taking care of club business.” He carefully sets the tray across my lap. “I think something big might be going down. Prez and the club officers have been in church all morning."

“Church?” I gape, unable to picture the hard core bikers on their knees in a chapel.

“It’s what we call members-only meetings.”

“Oh." I stare down at the soup, watching the steam curl upward. "Is everything okay?"

Rash shrugs. “I’m just a prospect. I won't be clued in on the details of club business until I earn my patch. Even then, club business is on a need-to-know basis, and Ghost runs a tight ship. Best president the Shadow Reapers have ever had, from what the old-timers say."

I absorb this information as I spoon up the rich chicken soup. There's so much I don't know. Actually, I know almost nothing about the inner workings of a motorcycle club. Part of me wants to get out of this bed, out of this room, and wander around the clubhouse, maybe find some members and ask some questions so I can learn about this world—Ghost's world, but I’m too chicken shit.

Earlier, I peeked out into the hallway, only to spot the two meanest of the mean girls from this morning—the blonde with big boobs and the redhead—lounging by the stairs. The blonde's cruel words echo in my head. Half the girls here have worn that shirt.

Is that what Ghost expects from me? To become one of them? The thought makes my stomach churn despite the delicious soup.

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