The Ghost Who Guarded Me

The Ghost Who Guarded Me isn't your typical second-chance romance. It's the kind where the hero doesn't just break the heroine's heart. He puts a bullet in her shoulder. He leaves her for dead in a desert grave. He lets her believe he chose evil over her. And he does it all to keep her alive. The Reckoning When the club discovers Catalina is alive, Cade reaches her first. He offers the only protection he can give: marriage. In the MC world, a wife is untouchable. Harm her and you declare war. She agrees for her daughter. Not for him. Living together, she discovers the truth: his safe holds five years of evidence, all prepared for her reckoning. His cruelty was never cruelty. It was the only way to keep her alive. Now she must decide if understanding is the same as forgiveness. And the club is already coming for them both. The Premise Catalina Salazar was the daughter of a motorcycle club president, a good man who believed in honor, even among outlaws. When her father dies under suspicious circumstances, Catalina becomes a target. The club needs a scapegoat for a federal investigation. She's convenient. Expendable. Cade Reyes is the man she loves. He's also the club's rising enforcer. When the vote comes down, he faces an impossible choice: defend her and die beside her, or condemn her publicly and pray she survives. He chooses condemnation. In front of the entire club, he calls her a traitor. He volunteers to execute her. He puts a bullet in her shoulder deliberately and dumps her in a mass grave with a corpse to explain the blood. He leaves her a bag: water, cash, a map, a passport. She wakes among the dead. She walks out of the desert. She crosses the river alone. She doesn't know he planned it. She only knows he chose them over her. The Five Years Catalina builds a new life in Texas. She discovers she's pregnant. She raises their daughter alone. She builds an embroidery business from nothing, one stitch at a time. She learns to survive without him. Cade stays inside the club. He becomes the president's most trusted weapon while secretly collecting evidence against the men who killed Catalina's father and framed his daughter. He doesn't know she survived. He doesn't know about their child. He only knows he has to finish what he started.

Chapters

Chapter 6

Six Weeks After The Crossing

The woman appeared at Consuelo Vega's door on a Tuesday.

She was young. Too young for the shadows under her eyes. Her left arm moved stiff, favoriting the shoulder. She carried a black duffel bag and nothing else.

Consuelo had lived seventy-two years. She had buried two sons and one husband. She had crossed rivers herself, decades ago, with nothing but a prayer and the clothes on her back.

She recognized survivors.

"How long?" Consuelo asked.

"I don't know." The girl's voice was steady. Her hands were not. "A month. Two months. Until I find somewhere else."

"You have money?"

"Some."

"You have problems?"

The girl hesitated. Her hand moved to her stomach. Barely. A fraction of an inch.

"Everyone has problems," she said.

Consuelo studied her. The hollow cheeks. The careful posture. The way she stood with her weight on her back foot, ready to run.

"Room in the back," Consuelo said. "Two hundred a month. No men. No drugs. No questions I don't ask."

The girl nodded once.

"Catalina," she said.

Consuelo didn't ask if it was her real name.

The room was small. A bed. A dresser. A window that faced the backyard, where Consuelo grew tomatoes and marigolds and peppers so hot they made your eyes water.

Catalina set down the duffel. Sat on the edge of the bed. Pressed her palm to her stomach.

Seven weeks. Maybe eight. She'd stopped counting.

The nausea comes every morning now. She'd learned to keep crackers on the nightstand, to eat before she opened her eyes, to breathe slowly through her nose until the wave passed.

She hadn't told Consuelo.

She hadn't told anyone.

She lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

What are you going to do?

The ceiling didn't answer.

El Paso, Texas.

Cade stood at the end of the bar and waited for the man to arrive.

The bar was called El Sacrificio. The Sacrifice. Appropriate. He'd been here three hours, nursing a Coke he hadn't touched, watching the door in the mirror behind the bottles.

The man's name was Ernesto Fuentes.

Not Hector. Ernesto. Hector's youngest son, twenty-three years old, three months patched, already carrying debt he couldn't pay. Gambling. Cocaine. A girlfriend who cost more than his cut covered.

Elias had given Cade the file that morning.

"Ernesto's three months behind. His father's old guard, so we're being generous. But generosity has limits."

"What's the number?"

"Twelve thousand. Plus interest. Plus the lesson."

"The lesson?"

Elias smiled. "Don't embarrass your father."

Now Cade sat in El Sacrificio, waiting for a boy who didn't know he was already dead.

Ernesto walked in at 11:47 p.m.

He was drunk or high, better still a little bit of both. He stumbled toward the bar, called for a beer, and didn't notice the man in the corner until Cade was already standing beside him.

"Ernesto Fuentes."

The boy turned. Recognition flooded his face. Fear followed immediately.

"Rhodes. I have the money. Most of it. I just need another week.... "

"You've had three months"

"I know, I know, but my father... "

"Your father doesn't know." Cade's voice was flat. Clinical. "If he knew, you'd already be in the desert. The fact that you're still breathing is the last chance that you're getting."

Ernesto's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

"How much do I need to pay?"

"Not money."

The boy's face went white.

Cade leaned closer. His voice dropped to barely a whisper.

"Your father was Marcos Salazar's best friend. He voted for Catalina's death. I want to know why."

Ernesto blinked. Confusion replaced fear.

"I don't... that was a few years back. I wasn't even patched... "

"But you heard things. Your father talks when he drinks. I need names. Who pressured him. Who threatened him. Who told him that voting against Elias would cost him more than his vote."

"I don't know anything."

"Then you're useless to me."

Cade stepped back. His hand moved to his waistband.

Ernesto's eyes tracked the movement. His breath quickened.

"Wait... wait, there was someone. A man. Silas. Silas Reyes.

He came to the house, three days before the vote.

My father locked himself in the study with him. When Silas left, my father didn't speak for twenty-four hours."

"What did they discuss?"

"I don't know. I was nineteen. They sent me to my room.*"

"But you heard something."

Ernesto swallowed. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"I heard my father say: 'She's just a girl. She didn't do anything.' And Silas said: 'She's Marcos's daughter. That's enough."

Cade's hand stopped moving.

"Anything else?"

"No. I swear. That's everything."

Cade studied him. The boy was telling the truth. He didn't know enough to be useful.

But his father did.

"Twelve thousand," Cade said. "Plus interest. You have two weeks."

He turned and walked out.

Behind him, Ernesto collapsed against the bar.

Cade drove home with his knuckles white on the wheel.

Silas Reyes.

He'd known Silas was involved. Suspected it, anyway. But hearing it confirmed that she's Marcos's daughter. That's enough... was different.

Silas hadn't framed Catalina because she was a threat.

He'd framed her because she existed.

Because her father was Marcos Salazar, and Marcos Salazar had tried to clean up a club that didn't want to be clean.

Because silencing Marcos hadn't been enough. They needed to erase his bloodline.

Cade pulled into his driveway. Sat in the dark truck with the engine off.

His house waited. Three bedrooms. Empty.

He thought about Catalina. Wherever she was. If she was.

He thought about the bag he'd packed. The map. The passport. The route that led north, away from everything she'd ever known.

He thought about her handprint in the dirt. Small. Fingers splayed. Alive.

She's alive.

He didn't know it. Not for certain.

But he walked into his house anyway. Sat on the edge of his bed. Opened the safe in his closet and placed a new file inside.

Silas Reyes.

He didn't have enough yet. But he would.

San Antonio, Texas.

Catalina woke at 3 a.m. with her hand on her stomach.

The nausea had passed. The exhaustion remained. But beneath it, something else stirred smaller than a heartbeat, smaller than a thought.

She pressed her palm flat against her skin.

I don't know if I can do this.

The silence didn't answer.

But in the morning, she woke before dawn. Dressed in the cleanest of her two shirts. Walked to the diner three blocks from Consuelo's house and asked if they were hiring.

The manager looked at her. Young. Thin. No rings on her fingers.

"Experience?"

"I learn fast."

"You need papers?"

Catalina hesitated. Then she opened her wallet and pulled out the passport.

Not her face. Not her name. But close enough.

"No," she said. "I don't need papers."

The manager studied her. Nodded once.

"Just the dishes. Weekends. Cash will be under the table."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Just show up."

Catalina showed up.

Six weeks after the crossing.

She washed dishes in a diner and hid her nausea from the cook.

He collected names in a safe and hid his humanity from everyone.

Neither of them slept through the night.

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I spent forty hours hand-beading a gown for a woman who was currently sleeping with my husband. My fingers were raw, my vision blurred, and the needle had just driven deep into my index finger, leaving a drop of blood on the silk. Braxton walked into our penthouse, rain dripping from his suit, and didn't even look at me. But the scent hit me instantly—Bulgarian rose and white musk. It was the custom perfume Griselda, my own sister, commissioned in Paris. I had spent three years as a ghost in my own marriage, sewing costumes for the woman who had haunted my vows since day one. Braxton didn't bother to hide it anymore; there was a smudge of her coral lipstick on his collar. He didn't offer an explanation, only a command to finish the gown for the Met Gala so I wouldn't embarrass them. My mother called moments later, her voice sharp with the usual dismissal. She didn't care that I was bleeding or that my husband was cheating with my sister. She only cared that I was "falling behind" on Griselda's gown. I sat in the silence of that cold, marble cage, staring at the needle in my hand. For years, I had swallowed every insult and stitched every lie, believing I was the capable one who had to make them happy. But as the clock ticked, a door inside me finally clicked shut. I wasn't just tired; I was finished. I set the needle down, picked up my phone, and dialed my sister’s number to tell her she’d have to find someone else to bleed for her.

Horror Modern Romance

9.1

Bound By The CEO's Cruel Contract

9.1

I was the orphaned "parasite" of the Tyler family, taken in only to be abused for fifteen years after my parents died in a tragic car crash. To finally escape their control, I sold my first time to my ruthless billionaire boss, Ellsworth Mosley, for one million dollars. I thought it was a clean transaction. But the next morning, covered in severe bruises he left on me, I was handed a brutal contract with a fifty-million-dollar penalty. He didn't just buy my silence; he bought me. My nightmare only worsened when my adoptive family found out about my connection to the billionaire. Instead of disgust, they invited me to a hypocritical family dinner. "Talk to Mosley, convince him to invest in our failing business," my adoptive father demanded shamelessly. His son, who had tormented me for years, even grabbed my hand. "Do this, and we can be officially engaged. You'll finally be a real Tyler." They wanted me to whore myself out to save the family that had treated me like a stray dog. I shattered my wine glass, cursed them to go bankrupt, and walked out into the rain. As I reached the door, my phone vibrated with a terrifying summons from Ellsworth. But it was the panicked whisper behind me that froze my blood. "She knows about the brakes on her parents' car. If anyone finds out what we did, we'll go to prison." They murdered my parents. I gripped my phone, accepting the devil's call. Since I was already bound to a monster, I would use his power to drag them all to hell.

Billionaire Horror Modern

7.4

Bound to her Captor

7.4

I was supposed to hate him. He destroyed my kingdom. Killed my family. Made me a slave. But when Prince Daresh looks at me with those burning blue eyes-eyes that can hear my every thought-I feel something I shouldn't. Desire. He's the most dangerous demon in the realm. Silver-haired, ruthless, and feared by everyone-even his own brothers. They say he has no heart. No mercy. So why does he look at me like I'm the only thing that matters? When I try to escape, he saves me. When I'm broken, he pieces me back together. And when his enemies come for me, he'll burn the entire demon realm to the ground to keep me safe. But our love is forbidden. I'm human. He's a demon prince with a secret that could destroy us both. And the life growing inside me? It might be the most dangerous thing of all. In a world where fire and water destroy each other, we're about to prove that some bonds are unbreakable. A dark paranormal romance featuring a possessive demon prince, a defiant human princess, forbidden magic, and a love that will set the realm on fire.

Fantasy Horror Romance

9.6

Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles

9.6

I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved. He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again. "Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports. For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian. In return, he treated me like furniture. He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste. I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home. So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco. I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage. But I underestimated Dante. When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat. He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away.

Horror Modern Romance

9.8

I Found My Replacement's Rotting Hair On The Alpha's Pillow

9.8

After years of loyalty, a Luna discovers a horrifying truth: her Alpha mate has been harboring a secret lover. The betrayal turns gruesome when she finds the decaying remains of her supposed replacement scattered across their shared bed. As the stench of rot fills their home, she must confront the twisted reality of her partner's infidelity and the dark, supernatural obsession that led him to keep a literal corpse in their inner sanctum.

Horror Romance Werewolf

7.3

My Fiance's Deadly Betrayal

7.3

A week before my wedding, my fiancé' s sister-in-law, Kimberlee, ran me off a bridge. As I lay dying in the wreckage, my fiancé, Deacon, rushed past me to comfort her, barking at the paramedics to prioritize her "superficial" shock over my fatal injuries. He forced my crushed hand to sign a waiver absolving her of all fault, then left me to die in the rain. "She's just trying to get attention," he muttered. "Kimberlee is the priority. She almost died." I watched as a ghost while he ignored the pleas of my colleagues to perform the life-saving surgery I needed. He even told my mentor he wished I were dead. Then, he proposed to Kimberlee with my ring. My love for him finally shattered. I was dead, my career was being destroyed, and my murderer was wearing my ring. But death wasn't the end. It was a front-row seat to their betrayal, and I was tethered to the man who let me die, forced to watch every single moment.

Horror Mystery Romance

The Ghost Who Guarded Me

Chapter 6

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