Me.
I take a step toward him, putting myself directly in his path, within his reach. “Get out.”
He sneers at me, his curled lip making his face grotesque. “You’re going to regret this.”
I shrug, the act dismissive, meant to make him feel insignificant. “I doubt I’ll even remember this conversation. Or you.”
Mason’s eyes flash with emotion and intent. In a split second, I realize what’s about to happen, a moment too late.
Mason’s fist connects with my face.
The impact sends a shock wave through my skull, and I stumble back, my hand instinctively flying to my cheek. Pain blooms instantly, but I let my arm fall to my side, refusing to cradle my injury.
The adrenaline already flooding my system becomes amplified, my synapses firing off in rapid succession, creating something close to chaos in my mind.
Or is it freedom?
My short burst of laughter hits the air, shattering the silence.
The sound is involuntary, almost absurd, but it bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, breaking free before I can stop it. The sting from his punch throbs, but the pain is oddly grounding, focusing. It’s as though the world has slowed down, sharpening into clarity.
Mason stares at me, chest heaving and hands fisted. His eyes widen when I laugh again, on purpose. I’m not horrified by Mason’s violence. I’m… amused and exhilarated. My body feels awakened, thrumming with a strange, turbulent energy. The line between control and chaos has been crossed.
And I’m not going back.
“You’re fucking crazy.” Mason’s voice carries the sharpness of his insult, but his posture, the way his shoulders sag, tells me he’s afraid.
He should be.
I don’t respond. And I don’t stop laughing as I make my way across the living room to the patio door. I pick up the baseball bat that sits there and lift it, resting the length of it on my shoulder.
“What do you think you’re going to do, Gen?” He takes a retreating step, signaling his uncertainty. “Are you going to hit me?”
I stop laughing and tilt my head, a mocking smile firmly planted on my face. “Fuck around, and find out.”
He gapes at me before turning sharply, his footsteps heavy as he storms out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. The noise reverberates through the room, but I dismiss it.
I stand there with my chest full of repressed laughter and adrenaline coursing through my blood, heating me all over. I turn my head to peer at my reflection again.
Now, I’m looking at an entirely different person.
My cheek is red, the skin starting to swell, but the woman looking back at me is strong. Stronger than I ever gave her credit for.
And she’s not afraid.
I smile at my reflection as Ghost’s voice fills my mind.
“There’s the Geneva that I see.”
CHAPTER 14
GHOST
It’s been almost three days and Geneva still hasn’t come to see me.
I tap my fingers against the cold metal table in my cell, the rhythm steady but relentless. Like my thoughts of her. I’ve been accurate in all of my assessments of Dr. Andrews, along with anticipating her reactions. She should’ve contacted me by now.
Is she hiding from me?
Or hiding something from me?
I get up and walk over to my cell door to make sure the guards aren’t nearby before retrieving my new cell phone from its hiding place in the wall. After my final taunt to Geneva during our last visit, she informed the guards about my contraband, and they confiscated it. Such a tattletale.
If she were here, I’d spank her for that.
Because of that little stunt, I haven’t been able to watch Geneva for days and it’s killing me. What good is having cameras in her apartment if I can’t fucking see her?
I power on the phone and select the app that’s linked to the hidden cameras, the grainy black-and-white feed from her apartment flickering to life. The angles aren’t perfect, but they’re good enough. And there she is.
Finally.
Geneva is sitting on her couch, scrolling through her phone, her posture rigid like she’s deep in thought. I watch her for a few moments, the tension in her body almost palpable even through the poor-quality feed. There’s a smudge on her cheek, but I chalk it up to the lighting, the shadows playing tricks on the screen. She’s too precise, too put together for it to be anything else.
I scroll through my unanswered texts.
Unknown: You said you were done with me. Is this another lie you’ve told yourself?
Unknown: You’re quiet, but quiet doesn’t equate to tranquility. What are you thinking about? Maybe it’s a person with white hair, a killer instinct, erm… I mean a killer smile, and a big dick?
Unknown: I hate to tell you, but silence is agreeance, Dr. Andrews.
I type another cryptic text message and send it with my pulse racing. If she doesn’t seek me out after this, then I’ll lose my fucking mind. And put a tracker underneath that beautiful skin, blackmail her, or whatever the fuck it takes to keep her.
Actually, I think I’ll do all of that anyway.
Good idea, me.
Unknown: What if I told you the past isn’t as dead as you think? Would you believe that I know the identities and locations of the men from April 18th?
I watch the feed, my eyes locked on her as the message pops up on her phone. I can see the moment she reads it, the subtle shift in her posture, the tensing of her shoulders. She looks surprised, but there’s a flicker of something else that makes my dick hard. Complete and total rage.
Looks like that iceberg is melting…
She stands, walking back and forth, phone in hand, glancing around as if she can feel my eyes on her. I’ve seen her do this before, this restless pacing, and it always tells me the same thing—she’s trying to escape something, trying to avoid facing what she already knows to be true. I wish I could see her face more clearly, to gauge her full reaction, but the camera angles are limited. Still, I can read her body language like a book.
I imagine the thoughts running through her mind. How could he know?
Of course I know, Geneva. I know everything.
Her thumb hovers over her phone, and I can almost feel the indecision crackling through the air, even from here. She’s debating whether to respond, whether to engage me, and it’s exactly what I want.
The silence between us has lasted too long. I’ve missed our game, the push and pull of it, the way she tries to pretend she’s in control when we both know better.
I squint down at the grainy feed, watching her as she pauses in front of the window, staring out at the night. She’s thinking about me. I know she is. And as much as she wants to deny it, I’m the one who occupies her thoughts. Not Mason. Not anyone else.
Unknown: They thought they could disappear, but they’re not the ultimate magician. I am.
Geneva: Abracadabra, asshole. Go fuck yourself.
I slap a hand to my chest, close my eyes, and sigh. “I’ll definitely fuck myself, Dr. Andrews. While thinking of you.”