Chapter 34 Geneva
GENEVA
I DON’T TELL HIM I’M SORRY. I DON’T SAY ANYTHING AT ALL. I JUST hold him while sweeping my thumb along his jaw. Then his cheek. The skin above his broken heart.
Because I don’t know how to fix this.
But I do know that Ghost isn’t just a killer or a monster. Or a man I can’t get enough of. He’s a fighter.
And suddenly, everything about him makes sense.
Ghost doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. He just watches me, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for me to look at him differently.
But I don’t.
Because I already know. I see it in the way he moves, in the way he thinks, in the way he kills without hesitation. His violence isn’t just instinct… it’s survival. It’s a scar carved deep into his soul, like the one on his face, permanent. A part of him forever.
“What did they do to her?” I ask.
Ghost doesn’t answer right away. His gaze is distant, like he’s looking at something I can’t see. Or bracing himself.
When he speaks, his voice is eerily calm. “My father wasn’t just a mean drunk. He was a demon. I took the beatings every time he needed something to destroy, in order to keep her safe.” He lets out a bitter, humorless laugh. “But one night, that wasn’t enough.”
Nausea rises so fast, I barely keep it down.
Ghost’s gaze is vacant and his hands are clenched into fists, tension vibrating through his body. “I was on the floor, and I couldn’t move. I thought I could convince him to hit me. To kill me.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “Then I heard her cry out.”
I press my fingers against my lips, forcing myself not to react or throw up.
“I tried to get up. I tried—” He cuts himself off, his breath coming out a little harder, like he’s suffering through it right now. “But by the time I did… it was too late.”
I shake my head, not in disbelief, but in protest against the images my mind is conjuring. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to picture the moment Ghost realized it was futile. Final.
“She was three years old,” he murmurs. “And she never even had a fucking chance.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not yet.
“And my mother?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “She just stood there. Didn’t scream. Didn’t stop him. Just watched.”
A sob makes its way up my throat, but I bite it back. My entire body trembles with suppressed grief. And rage. “That’s why you killed them.” The words come out hoarse, but they’re not a question.
His eyes flick to mine, the darkness in them infinite. “No. That’s why I butchered them.”
The air between us is dense with something heavier than pain and thicker than blood. I reach for him, sliding my fingers over his, gripping his hand so tight, it hurts.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. The words aren’t enough. They never will be. But I say them anyway.
Ghost doesn’t respond or pull away. He just stays there, still as stone, the trauma of his past pressing down on both of us.
Then, after what feels like forever, he exhales, slow and measured, like he’s making himself breathe. “I wasn’t old enough to kill them quickly. I didn’t have the strength yet.”
A shudder runs through me.
“My father was bigger and stronger,” he says. “And I was just a kid.”
I squeeze his hand. His fingers tighten around mine.
“The first stab didn’t kill him,” Ghost continues, his voice detached. “Neither did the second. Or the third. But he did stop laughing.”
I don’t realize I’m shaking until Ghost’s thumb brushes over my knuckles. His touch is light. Almost… careful.
His voice drops lower. “She didn’t even scream, you know?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about his mother.
He clenches his jaw so tight, a vein bulges in his neck. “She stood there and watched while he hurt Abby. And she fucking watched while I ended him.”
Ghost finally turns to me, and I nearly flinch at the agony brightening his gaze. “And when it was over, she looked at me like I was the monster.”
I briefly close my eyes, unsure if I can listen anymore.
“She ran,” he says. “I chased her down. And I made sure she didn’t make it out of that house alive.”
The silence between us is suffocating. I focus on my breathing to keep from fainting. Or bursting out in tears. His story might not be the most traumatic one I’ve ever heard, but his story is the one that matters the most. And when something matters, it has the power to hurt you.
I shift closer, pressing a kiss on his shoulder to show my appreciation. My admiration. Although he promised to tell me someday, I didn’t think it’d be this soon. Or cost him this much.
He stiffens at the display of affection, but only for a second. Then he grips my upper arms to pull me on top of him. We lie there, face to face and chest to chest, his fingers splayed over my back.
I feel his heartbeat. It’s steady. A reminder that he’s human. Flawed but redeemable.
“The most profound connections are forged in the most unexpected moments,” he whispers.
I trace an imaginary pattern on his chest. “Is that your eloquent way of saying we’ve bonded over trauma and murder?”
“No, it’s my way of saying that I love you, Geneva Lynn Andrews.”
I stop breathing. Ghost doesn’t take it back. Doesn’t flinch. He watches me, his expression unguarded in a way I don’t think anyone else has ever seen. It’s something I’ve never seen.
“You’re serious,” I murmur.
His fingers stiffen on my back. “Yeah.”
I have to swallow before I can speak again. “You realize how insane that is, right?”
He huffs a quiet laugh, his lips brushing my temple. “No more than I am.”
I sigh. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
Ghost is looking at me like he already belongs to me, like I don’t even have a choice in the matter. Maybe I don’t. Maybe I never did.
I brush my lips against his. “You love me,” I whisper, needing to say it out loud. Needing to hear it again.
“Yeah.”
A warmth spreads through my chest, fierce and consuming, curling around my ribs like something permanent. Like something I can’t live without.
I let my hands wander up his arms, over the hard lines of his shoulders, memorizing every part of him the way he’s memorized me. He slides his hands into my hair, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that makes my heart melt.
It’s not slow. It’s not sweet. It’s desperate.
Like he’s been starving for me.
Like he’s afraid to lose me.
When Ghost finally pulls back, it’s just enough to look at me, as if he won’t tolerate any distance between us, no matter how small.
“I love you more than the breath in my lungs or the blood in my veins. Like them, I can’t survive without you. So don’t ever leave, or you’ll fucking kill me.”
I wake up to the absence of warmth. The sheets beside me are cool, Ghost already long gone.
A quiet sigh escapes me as I push up onto my elbows, blinking against the early morning light filtering through the curtains.
Although Ghost didn’t tell me where he went, I hope it has something to do with André Bisset.
Even if that’s the case, Ghost would never leave me unprotected. That thought alone keeps my pulse steady as I slip out of bed, grabbing the shirt he left crumpled on the chair and pulling it over my head. Then I shove my legs through a pair of shorts.
Barefoot, I pad toward the living room, already guessing at who I’ll find. Benedetto is sitting on my couch, his forearm draped on the armrest like a king on his throne.
I lean against the wall, crossing my arms. “You again?”
Benedetto glances at me, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Buongiorno, bella.” He gestures to the set of mugs on the coffee table. “I figured I’d let you wake up on your own. No need for theatrics.”
My lips twitch when I take on a stern expression. “Thank you for invading my space again.”
He grins. “You’re welcome.”
“Ghost?”
“He had things to handle.” Benedetto picks up his cup, taking a slow sip. “I’m your escort today.”
“Of course you are.” I blow out a breath and walk over to grab the mug he filled for me. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, but I wish I didn’t need a babysitter.”
“You didn’t need Ghost to tear apart the city for you either, and yet here we are.”
I give him a flat look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We both know Ghost would rather set the world on fire than take chances with you. I’m just making sure no one gets the opportunity to test his patience today.”
“Do you really think someone will try something this soon?”
He quirks a brow. “Did you not kill someone last night?”
I choke on the coffee. After setting the mug down with a sharp clink, I proceed with my coughing fit. “Jesus, Benedetto,” I gasp between breaths.
He smiles wide, completely unbothered. “What? You think people just die quietly in this city?”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, leveling him with a glare. “I think you enjoy being an ass.”
“And I think you’re underestimating the ripple effect of what you and Ghost did.”
I stiffen at that. I knew killing Carter might come with some unforeseen consequences, but hearing it aloud makes it feel more real. Makes the danger more imminent.
Benedetto continues like he doesn’t see the distraught expression on my face.
“Men like Carter don’t just disappear without someone asking questions.
He was an enforcer, which means someone was relying on him to get a job done.
” He shrugs. “First, Telford, and now Carter? The job—which is you, by the way—is unfinished, so the people at the top will wonder why. Hence, the questions. Followed by someone seeking answers.”
I exhale slowly, absorbing his words. “Which means they’ll come looking for me and Ghost.”
Benedetto nods. “And if they figure out you were the one to put him in the ground, well… let’s just say Ghost will have a lot more bodies to bury.”
A shiver runs down my spine, but not from fear. It’s the weight of what I’ve set in motion. The blood I’ve spilled.
Benedetto watches me like he’s waiting for me to react. To panic. But I don’t. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and meet his gaze. “If that’s the case, then Ghost and I need to make sure they don’t figure it out until it’s too late.”
He gives me a feral grin, one that reveals his canines. “That’s the spirit, Doc. A little offense goes a long way. Unless you’re a pacifist, then consider it extreme conflict resolution.”
“A pacifist, I am not.” Shaking my head, I push off the couch and set down the coffee. “Give me thirty minutes.”
“Take your time.”
I head back toward the bedroom, already planning out my next move. If Ghost is handling something on his own, then I need to concentrate on my part. Starting with getting that list from Dr. Corbin.
It could be the key to everything.
Someone was there the night of my keynote, watching and learning. Whoever this person is hired the men who killed my parents and sent a deadly mercenary and a rapist to apprehend me. All to obtain diamonds I didn’t know existed. And don’t have.
Whenever “they” find out I don’t know where the diamonds are, my life is forfeit.
By the time I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself, my head is clearer. I knew the risks when I started this, so it’s too late for me to turn back now.
I get dressed quickly, throwing on black slacks and a fitted blouse, along with a blazer. Then I twist my hair into a bun and apply minimal makeup, keeping my appearance the same to avoid any suspicion at work.
When I step out of my bedroom, dressed and ready, Benedetto is exactly where I left him, sprawled lazily on my couch, flipping a knife between his fingers. The lazy posture doesn’t fool me. He’s always aware. Benedetto is like Ghost in that way. Maybe that’s why Ghost chose him to babysit me.
Benedetto barely spares me a glance before standing and tucking the blade away. “Ready to face another day of government employment?”
I grin at him. “Nothing like a little murder to get the day started.”
“A girl after my own heart.”
Benedetto follows me out of the apartment, his presence a constant reminder that Ghost isn’t the only one watching over me. But there’s something else too, something in the way Benedetto’s more alert than usual, scanning the street as we step outside.
Things have escalated.
Possibly beyond Ghost’s control.