Chapter 3 Geneva
GENEVA
FOR A MOMENT, THERE’S NOTHING BUT SILENCE BETWEEN US. SKINNER’S chest heaves, his glare wild and unhinged, but there’s something else there now…It’s shame. The truth has cut through his bravado, exposing a wound he’s spent his entire life trying to hide.
“You’re wrong,” he says, spittle flying from his lips. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
I adjust my grip on the bat to free my hand and lift my shirt, exposing my bra. Skinner’s eyes dart to my breasts, but instead of lust or satisfaction, disgust flashes across his face. His lips curl, and his nostrils flare, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I shrug and release my shirt to hold the bat with both hands. “You’re here to rape me, but the problem is that you feel nothing toward me except revulsion. Likewise, but that’s not my point. You’d prefer a man instead of me.”
Skinner’s snarl deepens, and the fracture in his composure shatters completely. His body tenses, and in a flash, he lunges at me, a feral growl tearing from his throat.
I barely have time to react.
Gripping the bat with both hands, I swing with everything I’ve got, aiming for his midsection. The crack of wood meeting flesh echoes through the room as the bat connects with his ribs. Skinner staggers, a sharp hiss escaping his lips, but it’s not enough to stop him.
He charges again, his movements wild and unpredictable. I swing, this time aiming higher. The bat collides with his shoulder, sending him stumbling back with a grunt, but he recovers too quickly, his hand darting out to grab the bat’s handle. His grip is iron-tight, his strength overwhelming.
Panic fills my limbs as we struggle for control of the weapon. I pull with all my might, but his weight and leverage make it impossible.
“Being a homosexual is nothing to be ashamed of,” I say. “I can help you understand and embrace it. And how to drown out the voices that made you feel unworthy for something that’s completely normal.”
Skinner’s face twists into a grotesque mask of rage, his grip on the baseball bat tightening as his knuckles blanch. He yanks the object toward him, dragging me closer, his strength far exceeding mine.
“Listen to me,” I say, the words tumbling out of my mouth, utilizing the precious second I have left. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Let me help you.”
“Shut up!” He wrenches the weapon out of my hands and hurls it across the room. It clatters to the floor, leaving me defenseless.
My heart pounds as I back away, instinctively lifting my hands. Skinner advances, his steps slow and purposeful, his breaths coming in harsh, ragged gasps. His eyes are bright with insanity, drilling into mine with an intensity that has my blood running cold.
He halts, his fists trembling at his sides, the conflict in his gaze undeniable. For a moment, I think I’ve reached him. That I’ve broken through his psychopathy. But then his lips curl into a sneer, and the fire in his eyes burns brighter.
“I’m going to enjoy fucking you.”
“You better do it before Ghost gets here.” I tilt my head, my expression thoughtful. Mocking. “Or maybe you’d prefer him over me?”
Skinner’s gaze darts toward the door for the briefest second.
“He’s coming,” I say, utilizing the moment of hesitation. “And when he gets here, he’s going to kill you. And deep down you know it. That’s why you’re so desperate to finish this before he arrives.”
Skinner laughs, but the sound is hollow, lacking confidence. “You think he’s going to save you?”
“I don’t think. I know.”
“Then I’d better hurry.”
Skinner lunges at me without warning, his fist connecting with my jaw in a blow that sends me staggering backward. Pain explodes across my face as I slam against the wall, struggling to regain my balance. He’s on me in an instant, grabbing my arm in a punishing grip and dragging me toward him.
“I remember your friend,” he says, his voice dripping with venom. “She didn’t fight me nearly as much as you. Maybe she lied about not wanting it.”
I lash out with a scream, aiming my foot at his shin, and making contact. He grunts, his grip loosening just enough for me to twist away. I push against his chest with all the strength I can muster, and he stumbles back a step. But it’s not enough.
He recovers quickly, his hand shooting out to grab a fistful of my hair. Searing pain rips through my scalp as he yanks me to him. I claw at his wrists, my nails digging into his skin, but his grip doesn’t falter.
“Nice try, Doc.”
“Fuck you.”
Before I can suck in a breath to insult him again, Skinner slams my head against the wall. Stars burst across my vision, the world spinning as a dull, throbbing ache radiates through my skull. My knees buckle under me, and I collapse to the floor, the hard surface cool against my cheek.
Blood trickles down my face, warm and sticky, obscuring my already blurred vision as I struggle to lift my head. My body feels heavy, uncooperative, refusing to obey my command to move. To save myself.
Above me, Skinner looms, his shadow cast over me like a grim reaper’s cloak. He crouches down, his breath hot and sour against my face.
“You’re pathetic,” he says. “All that talk and for what? Look at you now.”
He reaches out to touch my head, his fingers coming away coated in blood. My brain screams at me to defend myself or to run, but there’s nowhere to go.
“You should be scared,” he whispers, his voice low and cruel. He reaches for the drawstring of his pants, untying the knot. “By the time I’m done with you—”
The sound of the front door slamming open cuts through his words like a gunshot. Skinner freezes, his head whipping toward the noise.
“Geneva!”
Ghost’s voice echoes through the apartment like a thunderclap, filled with a panic I’ve never heard before. Skinner rises to his full height, facing Ghost and the direction of the front door.
Just hearing his voice is enough to bring tears to my eyes. Through my blurred vision I can barely make out his face as his gaze zeroes in on me. I’m lying motionless on the floor, desperate to signal to him that I’m alive, but I can’t move and my eyelids are half lowered.
“No,” Ghost breathes, the single word filled with an anguish that guts me. His gaze snaps to Skinner, and the rage that consumes Ghost’s face is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. He clenches his fists at his sides, his entire body tense and ready to unleash violence.
“Look who finally showed up,” Skinner says, his tone mocking. “But you’re too late.”
Ghost glances at me once more before his composure snaps.
He moves with a speed that’s almost inhuman, closing the distance between them in an instant. His fist slams into Skinner’s jaw, the sickening crack echoing through the room as Skinner stumbles back, clutching his face.
But Ghost doesn’t stop.
He grabs Skinner by the collar, yanking him forward before driving a knee into his gut. Skinner doubles over, gasping for air. Before he can recover, Ghost throws him against the wall, the impact rattling the pictures on the nearby shelf.
“I’m going to make you suffer,” Ghost snarls, his voice shaking with rage. “You’re going to beg me to fucking kill you.”
Skinner tries to fight back, swinging wildly, but Ghost blocks each attempt with a precision that’s terrifying. He slams Skinner’s head into the wall again, this time hard enough to leave a crack in the plaster.
I try to sit up, but the pain in my head is unbearable. Lying there, I push through the agony to give him proof that I’m alive.
“Ghost,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He freezes, his head snapping toward me. His grip on Skinner loosens, and he lets him fall to the floor.
Ghost is by my side in an instant. He drops to his knees, his hands shaking as he reaches out to touch my face. “Geneva,” he says, his voice raw with anguish. “Are you—can you hear me? Jesus Christ, answer me!”
I manage a weak nod.
His eyes scan every inch of me, taking in the blood, the bruises, the way I’m struggling to stay conscious. His jaw tightens, his fury reigniting as he looks back at Skinner, who’s groaning on the floor.
Ghost exhales shakily. “I’ve got you, Doc. Everything’s going to be okay.”
His hands are impossibly gentle as they cradle my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t even realize were there.
The fury that had consumed him moments ago is nowhere to be found, replaced by a tenderness that nearly breaks me.
His touch is grounding, even as my world goes in and out of focus.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice soft but urgent. “Geneva, look at me. That’s it. Good girl.”
I try to keep my gaze trained on his face, the intensity of his eyes pulling me back from the edge of unconsciousness. “You’re here,” I whisper.
“Where else would I be? Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” Ghost’s tone is hard, like he’s willing that to be true. He takes a deep breath, his gaze filling with so much fear, it has me frowning in confusion. “Did he…?”
Ghost’s voice trails off, the question too horrendous, too devastating to say out loud. His eyes search mine for a truth he’s terrified to uncover. I watch the way his body tenses, as if bracing for a blow, and it’s clear the mere thought is torturing him.
I shake my head quickly, understanding immediately what he can’t bring himself to ask. “No,” I say, my voice firm to erase any doubt. “It didn’t get that far. You got to me in time.”
Relief floods Ghost’s features so profoundly, it’s as if he’s been given a second life.
The stress drains from his shoulders, and he closes his eyes for a brief moment, a prayer of thanks whispered under his breath.
When he looks at me again, there’s a fierce protectiveness, a resoluteness in his gaze that has me shaking.
Ghost’s hands remain on my face, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the cold dread that had filled him moments ago.
The sounds of movement snag my attention, and through the haze, I find Skinner. He’s no longer crumpled on the floor. He’s scrambling toward the door, his movements frantic. My heart lurches as I watch him bolt out of the apartment.
“Ghost,” I croak, tugging weakly at his sleeve. “He’s getting away.”
Ghost doesn’t even glance back. His attention is entirely on me, his hands never leaving my face. “I don’t give a fuck about him right now,” he says. “You’re all that matters.”
“No.” I grip his arm with as much strength as I can muster. “You have to stop him.”
“Geneva—”
“Go,” I insist, cutting him off. My voice shakes, but there’s no mistaking the urgency in it. “He’ll come back. You know he will. You have to stop him.” When Ghost doesn’t move, I say, “Please. Do it for me.”
He clenches his jaw, the internal war playing out in his eyes. For a moment, he’s completely still, torn between protecting me and chasing the man who nearly destroyed me.
“I’ll be okay,” I say. “Go. Please.”
Ghost exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against mine for the briefest moment. “If anything happens to you while I’m gone…”
“It won’t,” I promise, even as my vision swims. “Go.”
He stares at me, his resolve visibly cracking. “You know what I’ll do to him…”
I nod.
Ghost stares at me, his hazel eyes blazing with emotions I can’t fully comprehend. Anger, fear, pain, and something deeper that twists my heart. “I won’t hold back, Geneva. After what he did to you… I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“I don’t want you to.”
I know what I’m asking. I know what it means to him. And yet I can’t take it back. Not when Skinner is out there. Not when he could hurt more women if he gets away.
Ghost scoops me up effortlessly, cradling me against his chest. His movements are swift but careful, and he strides to the couch, lowering me onto the cushions with a gentleness that brings tears to my eyes. He grabs the throw blanket and tucks it around me.
“Stay here,” he commands softly, brushing a strand of hair from my bloodied face. His fingers linger on my cheek, trembling slightly. “Don’t fucking move. I mean it.”
I manage a weak nod, my eyes locked on his. There’s vulnerability in his expression, a desperation that tears at me. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, the warmth of it calming me in a way nothing else can.
“Rest,” he murmurs against my skin. “I swear to God, Geneva, I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”
With that, he straightens, pulling his phone from his pocket. His hands are steady now, his voice calm but clipped as he speaks into the phone. “I need an ambulance for the victim of a home invasion who has a head wound that requires medical attention.”
He rattles off the address, his eyes darting between me and the door as he speaks. The second he ends the call, he’s moving, his focus shifting entirely to the hunt.
Just before he steps out, he pauses, glancing back at me. His expression is unreadable, but his voice is steady as he says, “Don’t you fucking leave me, Geneva.”
Then he’s gone.
I sink into the couch, the adrenaline draining out of me, leaving only exhaustion and the cold realization of what I’ve just set into motion. I close my eyes, praying that Ghost’s darkness won’t swallow him whole. That he’ll come back to me the same man as before.
Not as someone I don’t recognize.