Chapter 45 Geneva
GENEVA
The prison looms ahead, its geometric silhouette cutting into the morning sky. I shouldn’t be here. I know that. Every rational part of me screams to turn around, to leave this place behind and pretend that what Ghost and I have isn’t consuming me.
But the rational part of me hasn’t been in control for a while now.
I stare at the entrance, hesitation wrapping around my body, immobilizing me.
Ghost isn’t the type to sit quietly in his cell when freedom awaits.
He was here these past months because he chose to be.
Because this prison wasn’t a cage for him; it was a chessboard.
Every move calculated, every piece exactly where he wanted it to be.
Including me.
Ghost orchestrated all of it. To get to me. And I still don’t understand the depth of it. What I do know is that if he’s still here, it’ll be a miracle. There’s a large part of me that thinks he’s already gone, vanished like smoke, taking his chaos and intensity with him.
But I have to try.
I wish I could say that my motivations are pure and selfless. That I only want to save innocent people from death and destruction. It’s just not true. I’m here for them and myself.
The guard at the front desk greets me with a confused expression as I approach. Probably because of my disheveled appearance that consists of a messy bun, plain black t-shirt, and wrinkled skirt. I attempted to look professional and obviously “nailed it.”
“Good morning, Dr. Andrews. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”
Neither did I.
“Is he here?” I ask, ignoring his greeting. My voice is steady, but the undercurrent of desperation is impossible to hide.
The guard’s brow furrows. “You mean Ghost?” He glances down at his clipboard, then back at me. “He hasn’t been logged for transfer or visitation.”
I sigh, my relief making me light-headed for a second. “He’s here.”
The guard hesitates, his eyes scanning my face. “What’s this about? You terminated your sessions with him, right?”
“Yes,” I say. “But I need to see him one last time. It won’t take long.”
He sighs, setting down his pen. “Ghost specifically said no visitors.”
I scan the man’s name tag. “I understand, Officer Shaw. Can you please ask him anyway.”
Time stretches painfully as the guard makes the call, his voice low and clipped as he relays the request. I can’t hear the response, but the way his lips press into a thin line tells me enough.
When Shaw hangs up, he looks at me, his expression unreadable. “He refused.”
The words land like a blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I force myself to stand tall, to keep my composure, but inside, I’m unraveling. “Did he give a reason?”
The guard shakes his head. “Didn’t have to. He just said no.”
My hands curl into fists at my sides, my nails biting into my palms. This was a mistake. I should have known better than to think he’d make this easy. Ghost isn’t the type to show mercy.
And I hurt him in a way no one else ever has.
“Please,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tell him it’s important. That I need to speak with him.”
Shaw hesitates, his eyes narrowing. “Dr. Andrews—”
“Please,” I say. “Just… try again.”
He exhales heavily but picks up the phone once more. As he dials, I press my hands against the counter, bracing myself for the answer I already know is coming.
And when Shaw finally hangs up, shaking his head, that flicker of hope dies entirely. “Ghost said no,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry.”
For a moment, I’m frozen, caught between the sting of rejection and the mounting determination to not give up. Finally, I exhale and lean closer to the guard, my voice calm but firm.
“You need to take me to him anyway.”
Shaw frowns. “Dr. Andrews, he’s made it clear—”
“I know what he said,” I snap.
The guard’s frown deepens, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. His arms cross over his chest, and his posture stiffens, a clear signal he’s about to shut me down again.
I adjust my expression, inserting concern into my voice. “Listen, I got wind of a situation with Ghost. That’s why he’s refusing to see me.”
The guard’s brow furrows in confusion. “What kind of situation?”
I hesitate, just long enough to make it seem like I’m reluctant to divulge sensitive information. “I can’t go into detail. But it’s the kind of thing that, if left unchecked, could be disastrous. And if that happens, it will impact the entire facility.”
I catch the twitch in his lip, and the slight tilt of his head that signals intrigue. I’ve almost got him.
Shaw nods slowly. “Ghost has been threatening to kill more people…”
“More people?” I repeat, my stomach churning. “What are you talking about?”
Shaw sighs, his hand resting on the counter, his expression grim. “Ghost killed an inmate last night. Snapped his neck through the bars of the guy’s cell. Just like that.”
Shaw snaps his fingers, and I flinch.
He continues, lowering his voice. “After the fight, we tried to put Ghost in solitary, but it didn’t go as planned. He maimed one of the guards—broke his wrist and dislocated his shoulder. The guy’s lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“Oh, my God.”
“He’s still in there,” Shaw says, “far from the other prisoners. He’s isolated, but it’s not doing much good. The tension’s building in this place because Ghost doesn’t make threats without intending to carry them out.”
Ghost is escalating. Solitary confinement might keep him physically separate, but it’s only fueling the turmoil inside him.
“You’re right to keep him away from the others, but isolation won’t de-escalate this,” I say. “If anything, it’s making him more volatile. He needs help.”
“You think you can get through to him?”
“I know I can.” I meet his gaze with unwavering confidence that’s a testament of my acting skills. “I’ve done it before, haven’t I?”
Shaw exhales heavily, his doubt evident, but I catch the flicker of consideration in his eyes. I seize the opening, wrapping my tone in urgency. “If you don’t let me try, the alternative could be disastrous. Just let me do my job. I would hate to see you, or anyone else, get hurt.”
Shaw’s jaw tightens, his skepticism giving way to unease. “We’ve got measures in place for that kind of thing. Ghost knows the consequences if he steps out of line.”
I nod, acknowledging his point, but press forward.
“Measures are reactive, Officer Shaw. This needs to be handled proactively. You’ve read his file.
He’s not impulsive; he’s calculated. If he’s planning something, it’ll start subtle, almost unnoticeable.
But by the time anyone catches on, it could be too late. ”
Shaw studies me, tapping his fingers against the counter in a rhythmic pattern. Finally, he blows out a breath, fixing me with a pointed stare. “All right, Dr. Andrews, you can talk to him. But if anything feels off, I’m pulling you out immediately.”
I keep my expression composed and professional, despite my knees getting weak with relief. “I understand. Thank you, Officer.”
He grabs his keys and motions for me to follow. “This way.”
The walk through the plain hallways is agonizingly familiar. Each step feels heavier than the last, my resolve wavering with every turn. What in the hell am I going to say to Ghost? Will he even listen?
Shaw leads me deeper into the prison, past corridors I’ve walked countless times. The further we go, the more oppressive the atmosphere becomes. The lights overhead do nothing to erase the shadows in every corner.
“This area’s been cleared out,” Shaw says over his shoulder, his voice echoing in the empty space. “Only a skeleton crew assigned here. Too dangerous to keep him anywhere else.”
I nod silently. The usual low hum of voices, the clang of cell doors, and the muted shuffle of inmates are missing. The silence is unnerving, punctuated only by the buzz of electricity and the faint sound of our footsteps.
We stop at a heavy steel door marked with bold yellow letters:
SECURED ISOLATION UNIT. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Shaw punches in a code, and the lock releases with a heavy click. “Stay behind me,” he says firmly, stepping through first.
The air here is colder. My eyes are immediately drawn to the thick yellow line painted on the floor, running parallel to the rows of reinforced bars. Shaw points to it with his flashlight.
“That’s the safe zone,” he says.
I stop just short of the line, my toes an inch away.
“Don’t get too close to the bars,” he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Ghost is smart. And fast. If he gets his hands on you…” Shaw trails off, his meaning clear.
I force myself to nod again, even as my pulse races.
The guard leads me down the row, past empty cells that remind me of hollowed-out tombs. The walls here are thicker, the bars reinforced and the floors spotless. This place has been stripped of humanity, designed solely for containment.
Shaw stops in front of a cell, his hand resting on the baton at his hip as he glances at me. His expression is unreadable, but his posture radiates caution. “Dr. Andrews, I’ll be right down the hall. If you yell, I’ll hear you.”
I nod, my throat dry. “Understood.”
“Don’t cross the line,” Shaw reminds me, his voice low but firm.
I don’t respond. My attention is locked on the man in the cell, his presence filling the space like a tangible force. The echo of Shaw’s footsteps fades into the background, leaving me alone with Ghost.