<span style="font-style: italic">See, this is why I always drive the same car.</span>Ghost had been teased relentlessly by several members of PM for always driving the same black sports car on the rare occasion that he drove anywhere. There was quite the extensive catalog of cars stored in their garages, and the wolf had free reign of them all, yet he never picked any other car besides the old, beat up sports car he'd been driving since he was young.<br/>He'd considered others before. There was a red coupe he'd been itching to try out, but his schedule had never allowed it. Now though, speeding through Market at extremely unsafe speeds, Ghost was thankful that he only ever drove the same one. The cops recognized it, and wisely left him alone.<br/><br/>He cursed himself for not screening Plum's targets. They had toyed with the idea once, after a target had recognized Plum and nearly killed her. Ghost hadn't wanted to do it, though. The nymph was attached to PM but allowing her to work independently kept her happy, and a happy killer was a safe killer. For the most part. At the very least, it kept a target off his own back.<br/><br/>The drive to Jaminson's house was not a long one, but Ghost found himself unable to focus. His mind kept straying to his past,<span style="font-style: italic">their</span>past. The first time they'd met (she'd scared the shit out of him), the Hunt that had taken her eye, the one time he'd been on a job with her (his idea, he'd been determined to get out of HQ for a while) and they'd gone dancing. He remembered the smell of her perfume; vanilla, or something sweet like that. It had been exactly the kind of scent he liked, and he remembered wondering why she would wear a perfume he enjoyed in order to get close to a target who enjoyed fruity scents. Back then, he had just attributed it to her not caring if a dead man cared how she smelled, but now... The wolf shook his head, closing his blue-green eyes tightly for a moment.<br/><br/>The Mark had fucked him up so completely. Brie had called him a lovesick puppy once, when he'd had a crush on a lamia girl when they were kids. He felt a harsh laugh escape him. if she could see him now...<br/><br/>The car bounced over a curb, and he was coming down the last stretch of road towards Jaminson's house. It was a mansion, really, and Ghost sneered. It was stupid, in his opinion, to own more space than you need. If you had money, use it to furnish a big enough space for you and whatever family you had instead of living in a mansion with more bathrooms than you would ever use. When he and Plum owned a place... He stopped those thoughts then and there, bracing himself as the car crashed through the gate at the end of Jaminson's drive.<span style="font-style: italic">Thank god for bulletproof glass.</span>He thought, as the windshield cracked but did not shatter.<br/><br/>In the few seconds between the end of the driveway and the house proper, Ghost considered his options. Either try to look in and see if she'd been caught already, or go in without looking, ready to rip the heart out of the man if he'd dared to harm his Mate. The second option was going to happen anyway, so he might as well expedite the process.<br/><br/>Just out of spite, Ghost slid his old car sideways into a sparkling clean, blue muscle car Jaminson had left out. The crunch of metal was extremely satisfying to the white wolf, and he took a second to look over the damage to the muscle car, pleased with himself.<br/><br/>He didn't kick in the door. He didn't want Jaminson to hear and be ready for him. Instead, he stalked through the man's home, looking for any sign of them. When he found one, it made him growl and clench his fists hard enough for his own claws to draw blood.<br/>The coffee table was shattered. Plum's work, he guessed. If Jaminson had broken the coffee table with the nymph's small body, she'd likely be laying there still, dead as nails.<br/>That wasn't what made him growl, though. It was the blood, first in a small puddle then trailing down the hall. He knew it was Plum's blood, but a quick sniff confirmed that.<br/><br/>Ghost followed the trail, pulling a wicked-looking knife from its place on his belt. Jaminson didn't deserve his claws. The fool had attacked his mate, and would die a cowards death from it.<br/>The trail didn't go far. Plum had locked herself in one of the rooms, at the door of which stood Jaminson, half transformed and growling. With one last kick, the bank manager had the door off its hinges, and Ghost sprinting down the hall, his face curled into a snarl.<br/>In the instant before he crashed into the man knife-first, the wolf could see what looked like a belt dropping over the lesser wolf's neck.<br/>There was a moment where Ghost was weirdly happy, pleased that his Mate could take care of herself, then all three of them were on the floor in a pile, Jaminson snarling and flailing on his stomach while Ghost stabbed him anywhere and everywhere he could reach, ignoring the spray of blood.