CHAPTER 30
GHOST
That asshole doesn’t believe me. That’s his first mistake.
Lobo turns back to Geneva, his makeshift knife glinting under the harsh light. She’s trembling, clutching the back of the chair like it’s a weapon. Every part of me screams to be on her side of the glass, to be with her.
Geneva’s vulnerability wounds me, but my fury on her behalf? The fury makes me dangerous. Unhinged.
Lobo steps closer to Geneva, his blade raised. “What’re you gonna do, huh?” he asks me, trying to regain control. To be the dominant man. “You wanna watch?”
The final screw spins between my fingers, but not fast enough. My entire focus splits between the vent above me and the nightmare unfolding beside me.
Lobo takes another step toward Geneva, the smug bastard clearly enjoying the way she trembles. He thinks he’s won, that he has her cornered.
Geneva’s eyes flick to mine briefly, just enough to ground her. She exhales and her grip on the chair loosens slightly, but it’s not in surrender. It’s in preparation.
Underestimating my girl. That is Lobo’s second mistake.
He steps closer, and Geneva raises a hand. The motion is subtle, non-threatening, and calculated.
“You’ve been in a lot of fights,” she says, her voice even. “But you don’t always win, do you?”
Lobo glares at her. “You think you’re smarter than me, don’t you? Think you can talk me down?”
She gestures to his left side. “Your ribs. The way you’re guarding them. You’ve got old fractures there, don’t you? Not from sparring or practice. They’re from someone bigger and stronger. Someone who put you in your place.”
Lobo straightens. So does Geneva, matching his posture. Her expression shifts to something less fearful, and more focused. She’s studying him, dissecting him in real time.
“Your knuckles,” she continues, her voice softening but never losing its edge. “They’re scarred. Not just from fights, but from hitting walls, doors, and other things that don’t hit back. When things don’t go your way, you lash out. But it doesn’t fix anything, does it? It doesn’t stop the nightmares. The memories.”
“Shut up, bitch!”
Lobo’s shout drowns out the final screw coming loose and me ripping open the vent. Geneva is keeping him off balance. She’s fucking brilliant.
But Lobo is unpredictable. It’s in the way his jaw tightens, and how his eye twitches as her words sink in. He’s not used to being seen like this, stripped bare and analyzed. It’s unsettling him, and that makes him volatile.
“You don’t have to do this,” she says. “Hurting me won’t fix anything. It won’t make you stronger, and it won’t change what’s already happened to you.”
The inmate freezes, his hand trembling around the blade as her words hit their mark. It’s only a few seconds, but it’s better than nothing.
I grip the edge of the vent, and I pull myself up into the darkness, my blood burning with rage and purpose. She’s keeping him talking, keeping herself alive.
But that won’t last forever.
Hold on, Geneva. I’m coming.
The darkness wraps around me, the cold metal brushing against my forearms as I maneuver through the narrow space. The sounds from below filter up, keeping me informed. It’s a mix of Geneva’s steady voice, Lobo’s labored breathing, and the chaos of the riot outside.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” Lobo says. “You think you’re so smart, huh? Just because you’ve got a degree doesn’t mean you’ve got me figured out.”
Geneva’s response is measured, professional. She’s in her element, even under duress. “You’re right. I don’t know everything about you. But I do know that you’re better than this. You’ve survived worse, haven’t you? You don’t have to let it define you.”
In a moment of indecision, the inmate hesitates again, but it’s meaningless. Men like him are ruled by their impulses and their insecurities. It’s only a matter of time before he lashes out.
The vent creaks softly under my weight as I inch closer to the opening above Geneva’s side of the interrogation room. My hands, still cuffed, ache from the effort, but the discomfort is nothing compared to the searing determination driving me forward. She’s buying time. Precious seconds I intend to use.
The shuffle of Lobo’s boots reaches me as he shifts his weight. “This is just some shrink shit you’re using to stall.”
“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe I’m showing you something no one else has. That you have a choice.”
His laugh is harsh. “Choice? What fucking choice do I have in here?”
I reach the vent’s edge, peering through the slats. The room below comes into view: Geneva standing firm, her hands gripping the back of a chair, while Lobo hovers a few feet away. He’s caught in her words, torn between his instincts and the thread of doubt she’s woven into his mind.
The fear is in the stiffness of her spine, buried beneath her composed exterior. She’s holding it together for now, but the tension in her body tells me she’s ready to snap.
“Lo-bo,” I call down, my voice sing-song. Both of their heads snap up toward the vent, Geneva’s eyes widening in surprise. “Uncle touched you in naughty places, didn’t he?”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screams, his voice cracking.
Bingo!
Geneva’s eyes dart between us, her composure momentarily slipping as confusion washes over her face. She adjusts quickly, her gaze softening as she realizes what I’ve done: I’ve shifted his focus to me.
To protect her.
“Tell me one thing, Lobo,” I say while scanning the vent for weak points. “What’s it like at family reunions for you?”
Lobo’s hands tremble as his fury builds with every venomous word I spit down from the vent. He glares up at me, his face twisted with rage, but his attention flickers back to Geneva.
The moment I catch his gaze darkening with intent, my blood runs cold. He knows that going after her is the only way to hurt me.
“Geneva!” I shout, my voice raw with panic as he lunges toward her.
She reacts instinctively, swinging the chair in her hands with all her strength. The heavy metal legs catch Lobo across the shoulder, sending him stumbling back with a grunt of pain. His blade clatters to the floor, spinning out of reach for the moment.
“Good one, Doc!” I yell, desperation threading through my voice as I ram my boots against the vent. My heart pounds against my ribs in tandem.
The adrenaline pounding through me sharpens everything: the fear etched into Geneva’s features, the way she scrambles to react, the glint of insanity in Lobo’s gaze as he straightens to his full height.
“You’re gonna regret that.”
He lunges again. Geneva moves quickly, using the chair as both shield and weapon. She thrusts it forward, forcing him to stumble back, but he’s relentless. He grabs the edge of the chair, yanking it hard and pulling her off balance.
Below, Lobo has the upper hand when Geneva’s forced back against the wall. The blade glints on the floor between them, and Lobo’s gaze shifts to it.
I slam my boots against the vent with mounting desperation, the sound ringing through the room. “Fuck!”
Lobo dives for the blade, his fingers brushing the handle. Geneva kicks the weapon and sends it skidding across the room. The motion leaves her vulnerable, and Lobo grabs her wrist, slamming her back against the wall.
“Geneva!” I shout, the sound echoing around me, amplifying my stress.