Page 30 of Awakening the Beast
He nods slightly, raising the glass of whiskey to his lips. “Did they say anything about a name?”
I search my memory, the details fuzzy. “Something like Ghost or something, I think,” I finally say, unsure.
The moment the name leaves my lips, his eyes snap to mine, a flicker of something dark flashing across his expression and I feel a wave of confusion wash over me.
“Why? What does that have to do with anything?”
Arlo lets out a heavy sigh, finishing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp before setting the glass down on the small vanity. I watch him closely as he strides toward me, and when he crouches in front of me, he takes my hands in his, his fingers entwining with mine, holding on tightly.
“Ghost was the one who saved me and then left me for dead in Mexico,” he admits.
I shake my head, trying to make sense of his words. “But why would he do something like that?”
He takes a deep breath, his gaze intense as he holds mine. “Because that bullet wasn’t supposed to be for me; it was meant for you.”
I lean back slightly, my head spinning as I try to comprehend what he’s saying.
“You’re making absolutely no sense, Arlo.”
“Your dad is Ghost, Wren.”
We sit there, locked in each other’s silent gaze, the seconds stretching into what feels like an eternity. Finally, I let out a small snicker, shaking my head as if trying to dismiss the stupidity of it all. I reach out, pressing the back of my hand against his brow.
“Baby, are you feeling okay?” I ask, my tone light, almost teasing, as if trying to pull him out of what I assume must be some kind of delirium, but he takes my hand away and looks at me sternly.
“I'm dead fucking serious. This isn’t a joke,” he declares, his tone cold and detached.
My face falls, and I can only blink.
“I don’t understand? How is my father Ghost? He can't be. He's not...”
“He’s not what? Not the type of man who has a secret safe room and blew all of my father’s men apart with a fucking shotgun?”
My eyes widen, the shock of his words echoing through me like a cold slap. Memories of my parents flash before me—dinner conversations, holidays, the quiet, stable life they always provided. They always seemed so normal, nothing like Arlo and his world. How could they be involved in something so dark, so sinister?
“But why would they keep something like that hidden from us?” I murmur.
Arlo shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Silent investors prefer to remain as Ghosts in order to reap the benefits of the underworld.” He explains, his eyes lifting to meet mine, the intensity in his stare making my heart pound. “Then they can live normal lives and have normal families, whereas Elites like me don’t give a fuck and will do it face to face for them.”
The truth of them sinks heavily into my bones. The life I thought I knew, the people I trusted most, suddenly feel like strangers. The room feels colder, the walls closing in as the reality of my father’s double life crashes down around me. I search Arlo's dark eyes, hoping for some sign that this isn’t true, that maybe he’s wrong, or that there’s some kind of explanation that makes sense. But all I find is honesty, an honesty that shakes me to my core.
“Wait, didn't you just say it was Ghost who left you for dead?”
He gives a small nod before responding. “Your dad confirmed it to me today.”
A blend of rage and sorrow swells inside me, my emotions battling for dominance. My eyes begin to well up with tears, and I speak through clenched teeth, barely able to contain the fury in my voice. “And why the fuck would he do something like that?”
Arlo studies my face, taking in my anger. “Because he said I couldn’t protect you, and he couldn’t tolerate that,” he says, but there's a hint of bitterness there. “That bullet was meant for you, Wren. He saved me, but when his men caught the shooter, they confirmed the hit was on you. The shooter was spooked and missed, and that’s when your father decided I wasn’t worth saving. He dumped me in Mexico to die.”
I clamp my eyes shut again, the tears streaming down my cheeks like rivers of betrayal. I feel Arlo release one of my hands so he can gently brush away my tears with his thumb, the gesture tender.
“He did warn me to always protect you,” Arlo continues, his voice softer now, trying to soothe the raw edges of my pain. “And if I didn’t, I’d be held responsible. As much as I hate what he did, I can’t deny that he was just being a father. If it were Cree or Lumi, I can’t say I would do the same, but I would have definitely questioned my morals in that moment for my kids.”
His words strike me deeply. My father’s actions, Arlo’s loyalty, the dangers that lurk around every corner—it all suffocates me with its heaviness. How could my father be capable of something so cruel?
My eyes snap open, and I sniffle, shaking my head as I struggle to process everything. “This is wrong on so many levels, Arlo. I almost gave up on everything while you were gone; we lost so much time with me being pregnant, and Cree thought his dad was dead, for fuck’s sake! These actions are not warranted at all!”
Arlo stays silent and I feel a sharp pang of anger as I cock my head to the side. “How long have you known?”
