24

Torn between rashly taking off his hand from Ciara and gently letting her go, Ghost was static for the next few seconds.

The slow, definite steps of Don Carianno behind him heightened his sense of defense and his grip on her wrist tightened, against his will.

"Son." Don Carianno's voice echoed next to him, gripping his shoulder and forcing him to turn around. There was no lying and denying more. He had to face his complicated truth.

The brief distraction made Ciara able to wring her wrist away from his hold. She bent again for the shards of glass and this time, Ghost couldn't stop her.

He forced himself to watch her in silence. Everyone did. She barely made it up when Rasta bounced forward and smacked her face.

"Crazy bitch! How dare you create such a sick mess??!" He grabbed a handful of her hair, and her cries echoed. He dragged her back behind the counter, ignoring how deep the glasses pierced into her skin.

Ghost winced slightly. His body stung like he'd been the one who got hit