All Chapters of Ghost In The Pack: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Draven’s POV I pulled my SUV onto the gravel road a few hundred yards from the Black Claw Pack. The tires crunched beneath us as the driver eased the vehicle onto the shoulder behind the long line of black SUVs that had already arrived. Darren and the others hadn’t wasted any time getting here. Their vehicles were parked neatly beneath the cover of the trees, hidden well enough that nobody inside the pack would notice them unless they were looking. The engine fell silent, and I climbed out, stretching both arms over my head as I rolled the stiffness from my shoulders. The drive should have given me time to cool off. It hadn’t. Every mile only made me angrier. Elena’s battered face refused to leave my mind. Every time I blinked, I saw her lying unconscious in that ring before Rico carried her away. Then Darla’s smug expression replaced it, followed by the words she so proudly admitted. My father sent his men. Ash hadn’t spoken much since then. He didn’t need to. His anger mirrored

Allan’s POV “What do you mean… claws?” I ask carefully, searching her face. I reach over and cup Elena’s cheek, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her forehead. Her skin looks pale beneath the harsh lights, and a dark bruise disappears beneath the bandage wrapped around the side of her head. She took one hell of a hit tonight. “Are you feeling alright, babygirl?” She slowly shakes her head. “I know what I saw.” The certainty in her voice catches me off guard. Elena isn’t dramatic. She doesn’t exaggerate, and she sure as hell doesn’t make things up for attention. Getting her to admit she’s hurt usually takes an act of God, so hearing her speak with this much conviction makes it impossible to brush aside. She lets out a quiet sigh before looking straight into my eyes. “Her hands… they had claws.” I don’t answer immediately. Instead, I study her face, looking for any hint that she’s confused or uncertain. I’ve known Elena for years. Long enough to recognize every sarcasti

Elena’s POV I’ve been lying here for what feels like forever. Every time I manage to drift off, the throbbing in the back of my head yanks me awake before I can get any real sleep. Whoever said rest was the best medicine had obviously never been hit in the head with a chair. With a frustrated sigh, I reach over to the nightstand and grab my laptop. My body protests the movement, and a dull ache shoots through my shoulders as I pull it onto my lap. I flip the screen open and wait for it to come to life before logging into my encrypted account. It’s been almost two weeks since I’ve signed in. Normally, I check messages every day, even if I don’t take a job. Vanishing without a word isn’t exactly good for business, but after what happened on my last assignment, disappearing seemed like the smarter option. My fingers glide across the keyboard. They’re still quick, just not as fast as usual. Every now and then, pain shoots through the back of my head, forcing me to slow down. I hit En

Elena’s POV I must’ve dozed off sometime this morning. I slowly lift my head and glance at the clock on the nightstand. “Damn,” I mutter to myself. It’s already eight. I push the blankets aside and carefully climb out of bed, expecting the familiar pounding in the back of my head the moment my feet hit the floor. It never comes. I pause for a second. That’s… strange. I make my way into the bathroom, still waiting for the pain to hit, but it doesn’t. Not even the slightest headache. My body feels a little sore from everything that happened yesterday, but the sharp, relentless pain that kept me awake half the night is completely gone. I stare at my reflection. The color has returned to my face, and I don’t look nearly as exhausted as I did before I finally fell asleep. Slowly, I turn my head from one side to the other. No swelling. No bruising. A knot forms in my stomach. I grab my compact mirror from the counter and position it behind my head so I can see the reflection in the ba

Elena’s POV I leaned back against the headboard and studied the screen in front of me again. When I accepted this job, I expected it to be complicated. I figured I’d spend hours breaking through security, creating records, and building a believable digital history from scratch. Instead, it was almost too easy, and that was the part bothering me. The client had been painfully specific. Every file had to match. Every date had to line up. Every revision, archived copy, and digital breadcrumb had to point back years as though this agreement had always existed. Whoever hired Ghost wasn’t looking for a quick forgery. They wanted history rewritten. I leaned closer to the screen, scrolling through another section of the files while quietly shaking my head. “They’re paying way too much for this.” The contract itself was laughable. The first time I opened it, I actually laughed out loud. The signatures alone were enough to give it away. Whoever forged them clearly didn’t know what they we