Chapter 44

Chapter 44
Sable

Brant turned around to face me. His hazel eyes were glowing.

It wasn’t Brant. It was Ghost.

“Ghost… calm down. Let him go. He didn’t really do anything,” I added, trying to soothe him. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. Please…”

“He fucking grabbed you, and you're telling me he didn’t do anything wrong?” he growled.

I walked toward him, unafraid—because I knew he would never hurt me. His hand was still clenched around Lucas’s throat, his grip tightening, and I could see Lucas beginning to shift too. I had come here to prevent a war, not start one.

Gently, I peeled his fingers from Lucas one by one. “It’s okay… he didn’t hurt me,” I said calmly. Inside, I was smiling. Yeah, I knew it was Ghost standing in front of me, not Brant—but still, a part of Brant was in there. A part of him was worried about me. And I loved that. That felt good.

Suddenly, his eyes rolled back and he jerked, swaying slightly.

I grabbed his arm to steady him. “What’s wrong?”

“Leslie… drugged…” he began.

He didn’t need to say more. I already understood. I knew exactly what he meant. Leslie must’ve drugged Brant to have sex with him. He was out cold—that’s why Ghost was in control. And now the body was weakening, shutting down.

But why did she need to drug him? Was there more to it than that? I had to act fast.

“Well, we don’t need you passing out on us out here,” I said, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him. “Why don’t you take us home?”

“I came with the bike… I won’t be able to ride. Damn it,” he muttered, frustrated. “We can use the race car. You can drive us.”

I nodded. “Sure. I can do that.”

I helped him as we walked toward the club door. Just then, Leslie stepped out, guarded by bodyguards.

“You’re not taking the race car,” she said. “There’s only one thing you can do—leave him here.”

“I’m not doing that, you bitch,” I snapped. “How could you stoop so low as to drug a man just to sleep with him? And for the record—we’re only taking his race car.” I emphasized the word 'his' like a dagger, reminding her it wasn’t hers.

I was only listening to her crap because she was standing in the path that led to the back of the club, blocking the only way in.

“No fucking way I’m allowing that, you fatherfucker,” she sneered. “Like I said—either leave him here or walk away.”

“You can’t stop us!” Ghost growled, stepping forward, only for three bodyguards to block his path.

“Ghost!” I rushed to his side.

He let out a light laugh. “You think I can’t take them down?”

“There’s no way,” Leslie called out smugly from behind her guards like the coward she was. “Not with the drug I gave you. Before you’re done fighting, your body will shut down. You won’t last long enough.”

“You’re nothing but a coward, Leslie,” I said, glaring at her. “You can’t face us. You have to hide behind your men. You're pathetic.”

Then I turned to Ghost.

“Listen… she’s right. Why don’t we just take a cab before your body gives out? If you push it, that could be the end of it. We can’t risk a fight right now. Not like this.”

I tried to reason with him, knowing how damn stubborn he could be. Ghost or Brant—it didn’t matter. They were the same in that way.

He looked at me, his glowing eyes locking onto mine for a long moment. Then he nodded.

“We have no choice,” he muttered.

He turned back to Leslie. “Stay the fuck away—or I swear, I’ll kill you.”

I held him as we made it to the road, and thankfully, we hailed a cab within a minute. We got in, and he sat close to me—so close not even an inch separated us. He leaned his head against my shoulder.

I was glad I’d gone to the club. I mean, I had no idea any of this would happen, but somehow I’d stopped a disaster, and I was bringing Brant home. He probably wouldn’t even remember it. Hell, he’d probably accuse me of kidnapping him again like last time, but I didn’t fucking care. What I was doing… it was right.

“I care…” I heard him whisper, his voice weak. But then he stopped.

“Hey,” I whispered, nudging him gently.

When I lifted his head, he had already blacked out.

We arrived at the mansion, and a few of the workers helped carry him inside. As I walked in behind them, I noticed dinner was about to start. Joss, Kit, and Rhett were already seated.

“What happened to him?” Rhett asked, watching Brant being taken upstairs. Dani trailed behind, worried as always. She’d never stop fussing over the Paxton men—it was like she sometimes forgot they were men, not boys.

I walked over to the table just as Marirose rolled the serving cart toward us. Everyone looked at me, waiting for an explanation.

“The fucking bitch at the club…” I started.

“Leslie,” Joss interrupted.

I nodded. “She drugged him. Tried to have sex with him. I just happened to be there.” I sat down, not offering any more than that. “Don’t ask me why, or why I was there. I just was.”

Silence settled across the table. Everyone fell into their own thoughts. No one questioned me further—not even Joss.

“Dani will take care of him,” Rhett said eventually, as if trying to reassure us all that Brant would be okay. Then he looked at Marirose. “Serve us.”

We had dinner in near silence.

I went back to my bedroom. I took a shower, still thinking about Brant—still worried. But I couldn’t bring myself to go to him.

What if someone saw me entering his bedroom? What would I say? What would they think?

When I finished my nightly routine, the door opened. My heart lifted for a second—I thought it might be Brant.
A smile touched my lips before quickly fading.

It was Joss.

“Hey,” he said, walking up to me and kissing my lips.

I knew exactly what he wanted, and I gave it to him, hoping it would distract me. Hoping it would quiet the ache inside me.

But it didn’t.

I let him touch me, move against me, whisper things I didn’t bother to hear. I moaned on cue, kissed him when he leaned in, let him believe he was wanted.

I faked it—every touch, every breath, every sound.

And the whole time, my mind was somewhere else… with someone else. With his brother.

I was thinking of Brant. Of his head on my shoulder. Of his voice saying, “I care…”

And with every fake breath, every lie my body told, I hated myself just a little more.