#1 | The Aftermath - Phantom Rider Series

#7 | Catch the Ghost

Bill's POV

Time flew by fast. It had been two weeks since I met her, but there wasn't a single day her name wasn't brought up. Renting a warehouse? Sorry, it's reserved for Mila. Gathering gun supplies? Sorry, Mila already took them. Getting drug dealers on the line? No, they work only for Mila. Getting whores for a fun party? No, Mila forbade them to work for us.

I was sick of that name. Going back was way harder than we thought it would be, and Gustav had already given up on trying. He'd found himself a new pet. Apologies - girlfriend, as we call them now.

After Tom's ultimate fiasco with his pet girl, we promised to drop that habit of ours. We wouldn't keep women in our house for our entertainment, not on a daily basis at least. It was so out of control that you could never tell which one of them was smart enough to seal us in by making herself pregnant or screwing us up in different ways.

So professionals only. For money and only as long as needed, then kicked out of the house for good. I will lie and tell you I do not miss those days. But without Tom, none of this was fun.

All three of us argued a lot, mainly it was my fault, but I couldn't stop myself. I was angry most days. Georg barely spoke to me; he was completely dedicated to getting our influence back, digging deep into the remaining connections we had, and going on solo missions just to gather more people who would work for us. I was grateful he did it, but it made him sassy and annoyed at Gustav and me for seemingly being lazy.

I did my own thing. I had my own mission. I was going after a ghost. There were rumors around the city of an unknown driver who appears and disappears in car races. Takes first place, never gets out of the car, and leaves instantly.

And I knew only one person who would do something like that. Call me insane, but I felt I would find that driver soon enough.

I was preparing myself for an upcoming car race. I hadn't done it in so long. So every night I took off and drove the abandoned roads to get my skills back. There was only one problem: before I did that, I got drunk, which made Gustav angry every time.

"You will fucking kill yourself," Gustav screamed at me as I was again about to leave for a night drive.

"I don't care. If I die, then be it," I really meant that.

"There are other ways to cope with this. You can do something else, instead of pushing yourself into death every day," he yelled at me.

"What else should I do? Live?! For what?" I screamed into Gustav's face, my frustration boiling over.

"You can't change the past, Bill. He won't suddenly appear alive at your doorstep," Gustav replied, his voice full of concern but firm.

"You just don't get it, for fuck's sake!" I continued raging. "I know he's alive, I can FEEL him!"

"No, that's just wishful thinking, and you've drugged yourself to the point you're hallucinating. Let us help you!" Georg added.

"You whiny bitches should help me find him instead," I snarled, throwing a chair across the room in my rage.

"He's dead! Tom is dead, you saw his insides splattered against the hospital walls," Georg said, clearly annoyed. "Don't make us take you to doctors by force."

"You'd never do that," I smirked, challenging them.

"We will if we have to," Gustav shot back. "We won't be gentle anymore. Your reckless behavior is destroying everything Tom tried to build."

"Do you know we've become a laughingstock? Here, look!" Georg shoved his phone into my hand, showing me a news article titled "Most Feared Gang of Tokyo - Clowns On Suicide Mission."

"Is this what you want your legacy to be?" Georg asked firmly.

"I am done!" I stormed out of the house, full of anger and frustration.

"Do we let him go?" Gustav asked, looking at Georg.

"Let him. It's not the first time, and it won't be the last," Georg huffed, his patience was over.

Outside, the night air was cold and sharp, biting into my skin as I revved up my engine. The city lights blurred and I sped down the empty streets, alcohol and rage fueling my recklessness. Each turn, each acceleration, brought me closer to the edge. I needed to find him. I needed to find Tom, no matter the cost.

The rumors of the phantom driver were my only lead, and I clung to them like a lifeline. Every race will be a step closer to the truth - or my own complete destruction. So I pushed gas pedal to the ground challenging the destiny.

I drove faster and faster feeling the ghosts of my past following me. The feeling grew stronger, until I was in a trance - like state. The memories of Tom haunted me, his laughter, his strength, the bond we shared. I felt death catching me by the throat, whispering in my ear "Drive further, until you crash."

Then out of thin air I saw him! The Phantom Rider right in front of me, shiny purple sports car sped right to crash into me.

Out of instinct, I turned the wheel, barely managing to avoid a collision, my car swerved violently to the side. My heart pounded as I slammed on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt.

It was an expensive car, and fast, just like the ones Tom and I used to race.

In an instant, I turned my car around, determined to catch the stranger. Who the hell was this? No one else drove like us, no one else had cars like ours. Could it be...?

I chased the purple car through the streets, my heart racing with a mixture of hope and desperation. The driver was good, matching my every move. It felt familiar, almost too familiar. I pushed the car harder, ignoring the blaring horns and flashing lights of the city around me.

"Come on, show yourself," I shouted, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.

The purple car took a sharp turn, and I followed, barely keeping up. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, it all felt like old times. But this was different. This was real. This was now.

As I closed the distance between us, my mind raced with possibilities. Was it Tom? Could he have survived somehow? The thought was absurd, but I clung to it, driven by a desperate need to believe.

The car sped up, weaving through the streets with precision. I matched its pace, my eyes locked on the back of the vehicle. The sense of déjà vu was overwhelming. I had to know. I had to see who was behind the wheel.

Finally, the car slowed down, pulling into a secluded alley. I followed, my heart trying the escape my chest. The driver stepped out, and for a moment, time stood still.

The moment I opened my car door, gunfire erupted.

"Who the fuck are you?!" I shouted, trying to peer around the edge of the car, but the shots kept coming, forcing me back. Bullets were not aimed at me but, right in front of my car, so I couldn't move forward.

The stranger's face was hidden in the darkness, and I couldn't get a clear view. I tried to see the figure between the flashes of gunfire. My mind raced. This wasn't just a coincidence. Whoever this was, they knew who I was, and they were prepared.

"Come out and face me!" I yelled, but the response was another barrage of bullets.

I knew I had to move. I got back in my car, and the second I closed doors, ghost driver speed off so fast I lost him. That wasn't a stranger, it was personal.