Chapter 12 Ghost
GHOST
I’ve pissed off Geneva.
Good.
Even though she left the prison hours ago, she never left me. This woman has carved out a place in my mind and taken up residence. To remove her… I might actually go insane.
Well, more than I already am.
I laugh at this until the sound turns manic, until the hilarity of my thoughts has my eyes stinging as I roll around on my mattress. Given all the shit I’ve done, the number of people I’ve killed, how can I become more demented than I already am?
A guard walks up to my cell and slams his cudgel against the bars. “Shut up, Ghost.”
“Is that a baton, or are you just happy to see me?”
“You’re one crazy motherfucker.”
I sit up on the bed and pucker my lips to blow him a kiss. “Yes, sir.”
He shakes his head, grumbling to himself as he stalks off. I lie back down, returning to my thoughts of Geneva.
I close my eyes, savoring the image of her fury. The fire in her eyes as they darkened, shifting from that soft brown to a cold, hard black. Revealing the darkness that lives in both of us.
I recall the way she stiffened when I mentioned him. Mason. The name alone leaves a foul taste on my tongue like ash. If he wasn’t a tool needed to manipulate Geneva, I would kill him.
Once his usefulness is gone, all bets are off.
Her reactions this morning confirmed that she doesn’t feel anything for him. But I wasn’t just provoking her because I wanted to break her down—though I certainly enjoyed that part. No, it was more than that. I wanted to push her to tear him apart.
And to show him who she really is.
The glimpses I’ve seen of the real Geneva are beautiful. They’re raw, unfiltered, pure. When she lets go of the facade, when she stops pretending to be the calm, collected professional, she’s something else entirely.
She’s everything I expected her to be—and more. Enthralling. Captivating. I want to see her unravel, not just for me, but for herself.
Because I know, deep down, she’s dying to.
As I sit here in my cell, the thought of Mason being close to her, touching her, sharing the same space as her…
Fuck him.
He doesn’t know what she’s capable of. He’s too blind to see the fire beneath that ice, the part of Geneva that craves something deeper. Something darker.
The part that matches me.
The truth is there, gnawing at her like a parasite. She’s bored with him. Dissatisfied. She’s holding on out of fear, desperate for some sense of normalcy.
I roll onto my side, my eyes half-closed, a slow smile creeping onto my face. Soon enough she’ll break. Geneva will destroy him, and when she does, when she finally lets go of that safety net, she’ll realize that she’s been lying to herself and using him as a crutch.
And she’ll hate herself for it. She’ll hate him for it.
That’s when I’ll have her.
Because in the end, Mason will never be enough for her. He’s weak, ordinary, and she’s so much more than that. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.
He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t understand her. Not like I do.
She’ll never belong in that mundane world he offers her.
Geneva belongs with me.