Chapter 38
GHOSTS
We stop short of a wooden door tucked between an old rehearsal room and a diagnostics lab. He pushes it open to reveal what I suppose could be classified as an office.
Maybe that’s too generous a term.
It looks like a supply closet someone shoved a desk into.
Half the size of Mister M’s, maybe smaller, but it’s well used.
Two cabinets loaded with files and supplies line one wall.
A small desk with a half-pushed-in chair occupies the other.
Along the back wall, a chair is askew, too big for the space.
V doesn’t say anything as we step in. The lights in the hall were so harsh that even with the lamplight on, the office feels dark.
He doesn’t guide me, but my feet move anyway, toward the oversized leather chair in the corner.
It’s unlike any chair I’ve ever seen in the training wing.
Not structured to guilt you into good posture or cold enough to make you shiver.
The leather gives a little beneath me, worn smooth along the seam of the right armrest, like someone used to sit here often.
I fold my hands in my lap, spine painfully straight.
I wait for him to demand a debrief, but V brushes right past me.
He crouches near a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of electrolytes, setting it gently on the desk. My fingers close around it.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
He looks up from whatever he’s sorting through. “For what?”
“I don’t know. For being sent there. For not being…better.”
He stands and crosses the room, leaning against the desk with his arms folded so tight that tension draws through his shoulders. For a moment, he looks baffled. “I’m not upset with you.”
“But you’re upset.”
“Yes, but not with you.”
That somehow makes it worse. I blink hard, staring at the label on the drink. “Then who—”
“I don’t think that’s a question you really want answered.”
I twist the cap and take a slow sip. He watches me for a moment, and I think he’s about to dismiss me back to Mister M’s torment. Instead, he stays right where he is, not even bothering to glance at his blinking tablet or my open file.
“I would’ve come for you sooner,” he says quietly. “If I could’ve.”
I look up, startled by the shift in tone. His eyes are darker now, hardened.
“There was a situation.” V doesn’t elaborate. “But I should’ve been there.”
I nod once, not sure what to say. I’m not mad at him, but I don’t have any comforting words to assuage his guilt.
“Thank you,” I manage. He nods back, almost reluctant. “Can I ask you something?” I say before the silence settles.
“Yes?”
“Did you ever have a pod like Mister M?”
His expression shifts, eyes darting away. “I did.”
“Was it…like us?”
Pain rakes over his features. He presses his lips together, a silent war of how much to tell me waging behind his icy eyes.
“No,” he answers finally. “They were louder. Messier. We were in a different wing of the program, with different protocols.” He presses a hand to his mouth.
“Not as polished as this one, but they were mine.”
Another wing? There’s more than one? Something about the way he says it makes the back of my throat ache. I nod slowly, pressing the bottle to my lips again just to give my hands something to do.
“You must’ve been good at it,” I tell him, mustering up every ounce of honesty I can manage through my exhaustion.
“I was trying to be.” He doesn’t say more, but I don’t need to ask. I already know his past here doesn’t have a happy ending.
I just wanted to hear it from him. I never know what to believe, but I guess this means it’s true.
V, the best mentor I’ve ever observed, lost six girls. His entire group. And somehow that landed him here, in a different wing, sentencing girls to death at noon, then teaching me piano at one.
Makes perfect sense.
The silence settles between us, and this time, I let it. His office is warm, and my legs are still sore from drills. The chair shifts slightly under me, worn with a softness that shouldn’t belong in this place. I tip my head back, cherishing the peace of this singular moment.
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper, succumbing to exhaustion. My eyes flutter shut. V doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t move to wake me either.
It all feels…familiar.
I tell myself it’ll only be a moment. Once my heart rate settles, I’ll scrounge up a good excuse for Mister M and return to my pod before anyone knows I was gone.
Or not.
Overpowering cologne permeates the walls before the door even opens, strong enough to nauseate. It swings open to reveal everyone’s least favorite vulture. It may just be the exhaustion talking, but I don’t have it in me to be afraid of him right now.
V stiffens, but he doesn’t turn to face the door. “Can I help you with something, Ashford?”
“Didn’t know you were hosting therapy sessions now,” Mister M says, stepping inside without invitation. “Should I book one for myself?”
“If you think it would help,” V answers, eyes still on the file in his hands.
Mister M plasters on a smile. “You’re bold today.”
“You’re reckless most days,” V says, swiveling his chair. “What’s your point?”
“My point,” he replies, tilting his head. “Is that you should be thanking me. You’re lucky I’m the one who found this…” He gestures around the room. “Intimate display. Carr would have a heart attack if he found out his precious hound was out collecting strays.”
V huffs a laugh. “Impossible. Carr doesn’t have a heart.”
Mister M turns to me, hazel eyes glinting. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I didn’t—”
“She’s recovering from the punishment you had no right to authorize.” V cuts me off without so much as a glance.
“Recovering,” Mister M repeats, eyes trailing over me. “She seems refreshed to me.”
I’ve never wanted to step on someone’s foot so bad in my life. My heart leaps to defend itself, but I quell it. I know better now. Clearly, the price of speaking out is more than I can afford without a plan. I drop my gaze and let him think what he wants.
He laughs softly at this. “You always look like you’re waiting to be told what to do. It’s almost endearing. I’ve trained you well.”
The dig crumbles my resolve in an instant. “Waiting,” I tell him, “doesn’t mean listening. There’s a difference.”
“You’d know?”
“I’m learning,” I say with a polite smile. “From the best.”
He studies me for so long that I almost flinch.
Instead, I double down, offering V an exaggerated nod. “Thank you for all your help, sir. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to improve. I look forward to private instruction tomorrow.” The last words wipe the smile clean off Mister M’s face.
He waves me on, impatient now. “Let’s go, little star. I’d hate for you to think you have a choice.”
“Of course, sir.” I nod, holding my exhausted legs steady as I move to the door.
Mister M smiles like I’ve handed him a crown. He glances at V. “See? She still knows who’s in charge.”
I offer him a poison-dipped smile. “Do I?”