Chapter 22 Ghost
GHOST
WHEN I STEP INTO THE APARTMENT LATER THAT NIGHT, I PAUSE. Something’s different. Not wrong, exactly. But… not what I expected.
On the couch, Geneva and Benedetto are glued to the TV, eyes wide, bodies still. The room is dimly lit except for the flickering glow of the screen, casting shadows across their faces.
They don’t bother to acknowledge me.
I narrow my eyes. “You’re joking.”
Benedetto doesn’t even flinch. “Shh.”
Geneva waves a hand at me, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Not now. It’s the finale.”
“Are you serious—?”
“Shut up,” Benedetto hisses at me, leaning forward. “She’s about to find out the amnesia was fake.”
I glance between them, completely baffled. Geneva is clutching a throw pillow like it’s a lifeline. Her brow is furrowed, her lips slightly parted, and her whole body is rigid. Benedetto, a man who has literally tortured people for fun, looks equally enthralled.
“What the fuck,” I mutter.
Geneva holds up a finger. “Ghost, if you ruin this, I swear to God—”
I blink. “Are you threatening me over a K-drama?”
Benedetto shushes me again.
I drag a hand down my face. I leave them alone and this is what happens?
Shaking my head, I walk to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge. I don’t need to watch this to know how it ends. Someone will cry. Someone will confess their love. Finally, someone will dramatically die.
And Geneva—who claims she doesn’t cry over TV—will absolutely pretend like she didn’t.
I lean against the counter, watching her. And she doesn’t even realize I’m staring. There’s something about seeing her like this that causes a warmth in my chest. It’s a moment of normalcy when she isn’t worrying about Skinner or Telford or the fact that someone wants her dead.
Geneva’s whole face is animated, her eyes flashing with emotion, and her lips parted slightly in anticipation of whatever ridiculous plot twist is about to happen on the screen.
For once, she’s absorbed in the moment. Geneva is always thinking, so this is a nice change, another facet of her that I adore.
Benedetto, to his credit, doesn’t even try to hide his investment. His brows are furrowed, his mouth slightly open, his body leaning forward like he’s being physically drawn into whatever the hell is happening. This coldhearted killer is a softie.
I’m going to have to live with this knowledge for the rest of my life.
The last few minutes of the show are met with utter silence, except for the dramatic, emotional score swelling in the background. Then it ends.
And all hell breaks loose.
“No fucking way,” Benedetto blurts out, standing so abruptly his knee bangs into the coffee table. “That’s how they’re ending it? Are you fucking kidding me?”
Geneva slams a hand down on the couch. “Right?! What the hell was that?! They did all of that just for—” She makes a wild gesture at the screen, eyes blazing with fury. “They spent sixteen episodes setting this up and that’s all we get?”
I blink at them. “Are you two seriously—”
Benedetto turns, face still twisted in betrayal. “Shut the fuck up, Ghost.”
“Yeah, Ghost.” Geneva groans, flopping back against the couch. “I can’t believe I stayed sober for this.”
The hitman rubs his hands down his face like he’s personally been wronged. “I haven’t been this pissed since I got shot.”
Geneva looks at him. “Honestly? I think I’d rather be shot.”
Benedetto nods in understanding, a camaraderie that is formed and sealed by the sacred bond of wasted screen time.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “All right, children. It’s a school night. Time for bed.”
Geneva groans. “First of all, I’m an adult. Second, I just had my heart ripped out. How am I supposed to sleep after that?”
Benedetto scoffs, shaking his head. “Nah, man. That was psychological warfare. I need, like… I don’t know, a palette cleanser. Something wholesome. Maybe cartoons.”
I stare at him blankly. “Cartoons?”
He shrugs. “I’m emotionally wrecked, man.”
Geneva points at him, nodding. “Same. I need some happiness.”
“You both need therapy,” I mutter.
Benedetto stretches his arms and lets out a loud, exaggerated yawn. “Fine. I’ll be a responsible adult or whatever.” Then, before I can say something smart, his expression shifts, all traces of amusement draining away. “But before I leave, tell me what’s the plan for Telford.”
I glance at Geneva. She watches me carefully, waiting. She doesn’t shy away, just lifts her chin, silently encouraging me. So I walk over to the couch, sit down next to her, and tell them.
“Telford has a routine. Predictable, but not enough to make him sloppy. He’s careful, but not paranoid. He’s not expecting anyone to come after him, which means he hasn’t altered his behavior in any significant way. That’s to my advantage.”
Benedetto nods. “Go on.”
“Every Thursday, he meets a woman at The Ruby Club. Same table, same drink order, same time frame. She’s not his girlfriend. Not a prostitute either. But she’s important to him.”
Geneva frowns slightly. “You think she’s a weakness?”
“She’s something,” I admit. “And that’s all I need.”
Benedetto takes a slow sip of his whiskey. “And then?”
I smirk. “Then the fun begins.”
Geneva’s fingers tighten on her knee, her gaze flickering between me and Benedetto. “When?” she asks.
I meet her eyes, my voice steady. “Tomorrow.”
“That soon?”
“It has to be,” I say. “Tomorrow’s Thursday. He’ll be looking for her.”
Benedetto hums in agreement. “Makes sense.”
“I can’t approach him while he’s in the club because it’s too complicated. There’s security, witnesses, and cameras. But after he steps outside?” I shrug. “Outside, he’s just another man on the street.”
Benedetto leans back, tapping his fingers against his glass. “You got a location picked out for the… conversation?”
“Working on it,” I say. “I need somewhere private, but close enough that I can get him off the grid fast. No one notices a man going missing when the timing’s right.”
Geneva crosses her arms. “And if something goes wrong?”
“It won’t.”
Her jaw tightens. “That’s not an answer.”
I sigh, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then let me give you one you’ll like.” I cup her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I will come back. And Telford won’t.”
Geneva searches my face, her breathing uneven. She doesn’t like this. But she also knows there’s no stopping me.
“Okay,” she murmurs. “Please be careful.”
Benedetto smirks. “Look at that. Actual trust. Warms my fucking heart.”
Geneva glares at him. “Shut up, Benedetto.”
I chuckle, releasing her as I push off the couch. “That’s enough strategizing for tonight.” I gesture toward the hallway. “School night, remember?”
Geneva rolls her eyes but pushes off the couch, stretching her arms above her head. “Fine. Whatever. I have work in the morning anyway.”
Benedetto remains sprawled out, lifting his glass with a lazy smirk. “I don’t.”
I shake my head. “You’re still on babysitting duty, stupid.”
Benedetto scoffs but doesn’t move, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass. Geneva heads toward the hallway, but before disappearing into her room, she pauses, her fingers gripping the doorframe. “Good night, Benedetto,” she says quietly.
“Night, sweetheart.”
I glare at him. “Find a new nickname.”
She hesitates a second longer before slipping into her room and shutting the door behind her. I watch it for a second before dragging my focus back to Benedetto, who’s watching me with his usual knowing expression.
“What?” I ask.
He shakes his head, finishing his drink in one slow sip before setting the glass down with a dull clink. “Nothing. Just mentally preparing for the day you completely lose your shit over that woman.”
I grab the whiskey bottle. “That day’s not coming.” It’s already happened.
Benedetto chuckles. “Right. Keep telling yourself that.” After a minute, he exhales, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “So, about tomorrow.”
I glance at him, waiting.
“You sure you want to do this alone?” he asks, voice more serious now.
“I work alone.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He waves a dismissive hand. “But even the best lone wolves need a backup plan.”
I pour myself a glass of whiskey, considering his advice. He’s not wrong, and I’ve been doing this too long to let overconfidence get in my way. “You’ll be close?”
Benedetto nods. “Just in case.”
I tilt my glass toward him in silent agreement. “Fine.”
He grins. “Look at that, we’re bonding.”
“Don’t push it.”
He laughs, leaning back as I drain my glass. The plan is set. The pieces are moving.
Tomorrow, Telford disappears.
Benedetto yawns and stretches, cracking his neck as he pushes himself off the couch. “I’m calling it a night.” I nod, watching as he grabs his jacket off the chair and slings it over his shoulder. He pauses by the door, glancing back at me with an unreadable expression. “Don’t get sloppy tomorrow.”
“Since when do I get sloppy?”
Benedetto snorts. “Since you started playing house with a shrink.”
I narrow my eyes, but he’s already slipping out the door, chuckling under his breath. Asshole.
Shaking my head, I finish my drink, setting the empty glass on the table before making my way to Geneva’s room. The door is cracked open just enough for me to see the light of her bedside lamp. I nudge it open, stepping inside quietly.
She’s curled up on her side, her hair splayed across the pillow, one arm tucked under her head. Her breathing is even, but I know she’s awake.
Geneva is silent for a moment before she murmurs, “Be careful.”
I walk over to press a kiss on the top of her head. “I always am.”
She doesn’t argue, just sighs and pats the empty space beside her. It should be easy to sleep tonight.
I’ve watched Telford for days, finalized my plan, and I know I’m going to end him as a threat. And then? I’m going after whoever put this hit on her.
I’ve got to keep my girl safe.
One corpse at a time.