Chapter 25 Geneva
GENEVA
I FOLLOW GHOST INTO THE BEDROOM AND SHUT THE DOOR BEHIND me.
He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, just shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the chair in the corner.
The soft thud of his gun being set down on the dresser follows, along with the slow exhale of breath as he rubs a hand down his face.
The room is dim, the only light coming from the city beyond the window.
It casts him in harsh angles, making the tension in his shoulders look even sharper than usual.
I know what he’s been doing for the past few hours with Telford.
And I know whatever he learned is the reason for the tight set of his jaw, and the way his fingers flex like he needs another outlet for his rage. But I’m safe.
Ghost will never hurt me.
I step closer. “Hey.”
His back is to me, his hands braced on the dresser. He doesn’t turn around.
“Talk to me.”
Nothing. That’s not unusual. He’s never been the type to process out loud, but I’m not waiting for him to decide when I’m allowed to know things.
I walk up behind him and press my hands against his back. The muscles beneath my palms are rigid, like they’re barely containing violence beneath the surface. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t lean into my touch either.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
His jaw tightens, the muscle there ticking as his lips press into a hard line. “It’s nothing.” The heaviness in his voice and the way it drops into something darker makes my skin prickle with unease.
Ghost shoves off from the dresser, twisting away from my touch. He walks over to the bed and sits before unlacing his boots. The movement is precise, almost mechanical, but it does nothing to mask the stiffness of his shoulders.
I march right up to him. “You’re hiding something from me.”
He exhales before lifting his gaze. His eyes, bright and unreadable, lock onto mine. “I’m deciding how much to tell you.”
“Ghost, please.”
He watches me, his expression giving nothing away. His voice is flat when he finally speaks. “Telford was supposed to deliver you to a mercenary… The man’s name is Dominic Carter.”
The words don’t land immediately. They drift, weightless, before slamming into me all at once, like a wrecking ball to my chest. I suck in a breath, but it feels like I can’t get enough air. My knees give out, and suddenly Ghost is there, his grip firm around my waist, keeping me upright.
“Breathe, Geneva.”
But I can’t.
The room spins, my vision tunneling as fragmented memories rush to the surface. Blood on the walls. The smell of copper and smoke. My mother’s hand limp on the floor. My father’s body motionless beside her.
My stomach lurches violently. I tear free from Ghost’s grasp, stumbling back a step. “You’re sure?”
His eyes darken, his jaw clenching again. “Yeah.”
I grip the edge of the dresser, forcing myself to breathe, forcing myself to think, but it’s impossible. My pulse is a wild, erratic thing, hammering against my ribs. The past and present blur, colliding in a storm of grief, fury, and something far worse… helplessness.
I close my eyes for half a second, the image of my parents’ lifeless bodies flashing behind my eyelids. When I open them again, my voice is barely a whisper. “Why is this connected to my parents? Why does someone want me dead?”
Ghost crosses the room to tower over me like a guardian angel. “They don’t. At least, not yet.”
I freeze, my grip on the dresser tightening until my hands shake. “What?”
He watches me carefully. “Whoever hired Telford and Carter wanted you taken alive.”
I blink up at Ghost in confusion. Death is final. There’s a certainty in it, an inevitability that, as much as I fear it, I can understand. But being taken hostage and at the mercy of the man who murdered my parents? I don’t understand that.
“It doesn’t make sense.” I shake my head. “I was there that night. They should want me dead.”
Ghost goes deathly still. The air between us shifts. It feels heavier, like the moment before a storm breaks. He clenches his jaw so tightly, I hear his teeth grind.
“You were there?” he asks in a whisper.
I slowly nod. “I was hiding. I didn’t understand what was happening at the time, but I saw it. I saw them die.”
His breathing stops. Just for a second. Then his entire body locks up. His chest rises and falls too fast, his nostrils flare, and his fingers shake like he needs something—someone—to break.
Then he moves. He paces like a caged animal, fingers threading through his hair, body coiled so tight, I’m afraid he’ll break.
“Damn it, Geneva,” he hisses. “That’s so…”
“Fucked up?” I supply.
He whirls around to look at me, his eyes wide. “Beyond.”
I shrug. “Yeah, well, it should explain my choice of profession. But it doesn’t explain what the hell is going on with Telford’s boss.”
Ghost halts, his gaze locked on mine, a myriad of unreadable emotions swirling behind his eyes. “I don’t know for sure,” he says. “But I have a theory.”
I swallow, my throat dry. “Tell me.”
Ghost exhales, slow and measured, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “This is about something big that your parents were involved in.”
“My parents were humanitarians,” I argue, shaking my head. “They helped people. They weren’t involved in—”
“They were involved in something,” Ghost cuts in, his voice low and firm. “It made them a target. And whatever it was, it didn’t die with them.” He steps closer, reaching for me, but I hold my ground, staring up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.
My mind reels, the puzzle pieces of my past suddenly shifting, rearranging into a picture I never saw before. “You think I have something this mystery person wants,” I whisper.
Ghost’s silence is my answer.
I suck in a breath, my mind racing through every memory I have of my parents. Every conversation. Every trip. Every moment that now seems tainted with secrets I never saw.
“But I don’t have anything, so what happens now?” I ask.
“I find Carter. Then he’ll lead me to the one who hired him. And I’ll kill him too.”
I stare at Ghost, at the hard lines of his face, at the dangerous glint in his eyes, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel something other than fear.
The rage is sudden, severe, and all-consuming. It floods my veins, burning through the terror, the grief, and the helplessness that has sat in my heart for so damn long.
My parents weren’t criminals. They weren’t corrupt. They weren’t a threat to anyone. And yet someone had them slaughtered in their own home like they were nothing. Like they didn’t matter.
And now that same shadowy figure is reaching for me.
I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms as I stare at Ghost. “I want to be there.”
His gaze narrows as it roams my face. Then he shakes his head. “You don’t want to be there. You want to kill him.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
I lift my chin. “Yes, I do.”
He tilts his head, studying me with that unnerving clarity he always seems to have. “No, Geneva. You don’t.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he raises a hand, cutting me off.
“This isn’t like analyzing criminals in your office,” he says, his voice gentle.
“It’s not some theory or a case study you can pick apart until it makes sense.
This is blood. Flesh. The moment you pull that trigger, you don’t get to go back. You don’t get to erase it.”
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “And you think I don’t understand that?”
“I think you don’t know what it’s going to do to you.” He reaches for me, slowly trailing his fingers up my arm before they settle at my throat, his thumb brushing the spot where my pulse pounds wildly. “You feel things, Geneva. Guilt. Remorse. You can’t kill someone and walk away untouched.”
I search his expression, my breathing coming out thin and fast. He’s not trying to scare me. Not trying to push me away. He’s trying to make me understand.
And I do.
I know I’ll never be like him, unable to feel remorse. I know that if I take a life, it will haunt me. But the alternative? Letting the person who murdered my parents breathe another day? That will destroy me.
I straighten my spine. “I don’t care what it does to me.”
His eyes darken, his fingers flexing against my neck. “Maybe, but I do.”
The words are like an arrow to the heart, making my chest ache with tender emotions. “I know you care.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” I say, sighing in resignation. “It’s in everything you do.”
Ghost doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just stares at me with that quiet, unnerving intensity, like he’s searching for any hint of doubt. If he’s looking for it, he won’t find it. Finally, he exhales, shaking his head slightly.
“Are you sure about Carter?”
“I can live with regret. I can’t live with myself if I do nothing.”
“You’re going to fucking hate it.”
I frown. “And if I don’t?”
His fingers tighten, just for a second. “Then you’ll have to admit we’re two sides of the same coin.”
I want to deny it. I want to tell him he’s wrong. That I’ll never be like him. And I’ll never look at life the way he does, as if it’s something that can be taken and discarded without a second thought.
But that would be a lie.
Because I know, I know, that when the moment comes, when I have Dominic Carter in my sights, I won’t hesitate.
I take a step back, needing space, but Ghost follows, closing the distance as if he refuses to let me slip away from this moment. From him.
“You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you?” he asks.
I avert my gaze. “Thinking about what?”
“What it’ll feel like.” He watches me with that knowing gaze. “The moment before. The moment after.”
He’s right. I’ve already imagined it all. Carter’s face, the fear in his eyes when he realizes he won’t walk away. The blood, and the silence that comes after.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to be like this.”
“You think I wanted to be like me?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, so I snap it closed. No one chooses to be this way. No one wakes up one day and decides to trade their humanity for insanity.
“If I do this, Ghost… if I pull that trigger, and I don’t feel regret, then what?”
He studies me for a long moment, then lifts his hand, his fingers grazing my chin, tilting my face up so I can’t escape his gaze. “Then you’ll know there was never another choice.”
“Is that what happened to you?” I ask, the words tumbling from my mouth. “Did it have to do with Abby?”