CAN'T HIDE IT

' THE CLAIM IS A LIE '

"To what your father was building. He's gone, but the infrastructure—his shadow? That still breathes. You were born in it. Ghost was sent to bury you in it. And me? I was raised in it."

"You're insane."

"Maybe. But even ghosts need heirs. And I think you'd look good on the throne he left behind."

She hung up.

⸻

Later that day, she told Ghost everything.

He didn't flinch.

Didn't argue.

Just stood there in the doorway of the motel bathroom, watching her pace.

"He wants to recruit me," she said. "Or threaten me. Or maybe both."

"He's grooming Na'Nami," Ghost said darkly. "Just like your father groomed us."

She stopped. "What if I don't kill him fast enough?"

Ghost rubbed his jaw. "Then we set a trap."

She raised an eyebrow. "You finally got a plan?"

He stepped closer, voice low.

"We use me."

⸻

TreyVon didn't know Ghost was still alive.

Not really.

There were whispers, sure. But as far as TreyVon's network knew, Ghost disappeared after Hayamei's father died—either retired, dead, or off the grid completely.

That gave them leverage.

Hayamei hated the idea, but they were running out of time. Na'Nami was already whispering TreyVon's name in her sleep, already drawing him into her imaginary world. She couldn't afford to let this stretch out for weeks. Not with her daughter slipping.

So she agreed to the trap.

⸻

Ghost reached out through one of his old aliases—"Malik." A name TreyVon would remember. A name that would make him curious.

The message was simple:
"She's tired. You were right."

TreyVon responded four hours later.

"Location?"

Ghost sent the coordinates to a rest stop just outside Birmingham.

One exit. One entrance. Flat land. Easy to monitor.

Perfect for an ambush.

⸻

Hayamei hated every second of waiting.

She sat in the truck, parked on a hill that overlooked the rest stop. Na'Nami was safe, sleeping in a locked camper parked with a retired couple they trusted—a favor Ghost had called in from one of his ex-military contacts.

All eyes were on the lot below.

The first car rolled in just after midnight.

Black SUV. Tinted windows. TreyVon stepped out wearing all white, like he hadn't come to make a mess.

Hayamei had a sniper rifle in her hands. Finger on the trigger.

Ghost stood in the open, alone.

No guns.

No threats.

Just a conversation.

Through her scope, Hayamei watched them speak. She couldn't hear a word, but body language told the story.