Chapter 23: Ghost of the Past

Ash didn’t expect to see him.

The slavers had cornered him near a cliffside when the sound of hooves thundered. The knights parted, and through the opening rode a figure in shining armor, crest gleaming like the sun.

Lucas.

The “pretty boy.” The one who had once walked beside him.

Ash froze. His chest twisted—not with fear, but something worse.

Lucas dismounted, his sword at his side, his voice practiced and noble. “What’s the disturbance?”

One slaver bowed. “Runaway slave, my lord. Dangerous. We’ll have him restrained.”

Ash wanted to scream. To run at him, punch him, shake him until the mask cracked.

But Lucas didn’t even blink at him. Didn’t even recognize him—or pretended not to.

Ash’s laughter broke the silence. Low, bitter, ragged.

“Damn. Guess we really ain’t walkin’ the same block anymore, huh?”