Geneva’s holding up her end of the bargain. I have to give her credit for that. Despite everything, she’s still playing the game. Anger only makes her more determined.

I glance up at the corner of the room. The red light flickers once, twice, and then goes dark.

That’s my girl.

I lean back in my chair, a slow smile curling at the corners of my mouth. The camera is off. No witnesses. No barriers between us. Perfect.

Geneva storms in, slamming the door behind her with a force that echoes through the room. Her hair is pulled back haphazardly, strands falling loose around her face in a way that makes her look exhausted but oh so feminine. She’s in rumpled clothes, consisting of baggy sweatpants and an old hoodie that’s frayed at the cuffs. This is the kind of outfit that says she’s running on too little sleep and even less patience.

She puts the “hot” in “hot mess.”

I fold my arms and give her a once-over, letting my gaze linger just a second too long on her breasts. “Rough night?”

She strides toward me, her steps quick and her chest heaving. Her emotions are written all over her face. The tightness in her jaw, and the cold fire burning in her eyes. Fury. Controlled, yes, but it’s there all the same. And it’s beautiful. Like her.

She stops just shy of the table, glaring down at me through the glass, her fingers flexing like she’s trying to decide whether to throttle me or stay professional. “You motherfucker.”

A laugh bursts from me. “I must say, Doc, I’m really enjoying the verbal foreplay. Insult me again. I like it.”

“Cut the shit, Ghost. You killed him.”

I blink, feigning innocence. “Who are you talking about?”

She takes a deep breath, but her composure is fraying at the edges. “Don’t insult my intelligence. I know what you did.” She flicks her gaze to the cameras before looking at me. “You all but confessed in your texts.”

God, she’s magnificent when she’s like this. We both know I did it, but she’s still trying to keep herself in check. It’s pointless and yet, it doesn’t fail to turn me on.

“Well,” I say, leaning forward, “I made sure my message got across.”

Geneva bristles at my words, clenching her hands into fists at her sides. I catch the slightest tremble in her fingers before she forces them to relax.

“Why, Ghost?”

I sit back, watching her, enjoying the way she’s wrestling with herself. She’s not just angry because Mason’s dead. She knows I did it for her.

“Why?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “Because he touched you. And that’s unacceptable.”

“You don’t get to decide who touches me.”

“Oh, but I do.” My voice is calm, steady, even as I lower it to a whisper. “He touched what belongs to me. You. And I don’t tolerate that, Dr. Andrews. Not ever.”

“You don’t own me,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m not your property.”

I smirk, relaxing into my chair. “We both know that’s not true. You may not like it, but you belong to me in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.”

I study her for a long moment, savoring her righteous indignation. “Mason was weak. He hurt you because you let him think he could. I simply corrected that mistake.”

Her eyes flash with something… anger, disgust, or maybe even guilt. But she doesn’t break. She finally sits down. “I don’t need you to protect me, Ghost.”

“I know.” I give her an impish grin. “Mason told me about the baseball bat.”

Geneva freezes for a fraction of a second, and that’s all I need to see. That small hesitation tells me everything. She’s still holding on to the belief that she has control in this situation, that she’s above the chaos, but her reaction betrays her.

“Ah, yes,” I continue, my voice low and smooth. “He didn’t expect it, did he? You, standing there with that bat in your hands, ready to bash his skull in? I have to admit, the image of you like that… It’s impressive. And so fucking hot.”

The skin around her mouth tightens, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Mason was wrong for hitting me, but he didn’t deserve to die.”

I imitate the sound of a buzzer. “Wrong. He deserved everything I did to him and more for what he did to you.”

“I wanted him out of my life, not out of this world.” Geneva’s gaze hardens, a dark glint flaring in her eyes as she finally loses the battle and her frustration seeps through. “You think this sick gesture of loyalty will do what exactly? Make me trust you? Connect us further?”

“Connect us further,” I repeat, rolling the phrase over my tongue as if savoring a fine wine. “Now that is an interesting choice of words, don’t you think?”

She goes statue-still.

“Whether you want to admit it or not, Doc, we share a connection neither of us can ignore.”

“If we’re so connected, I would understand why you killed Mason, but I don’t.”

“Maybe I just enjoy killing the way other people enjoy video games? Or maybe, it was for you. To show you that I don’t like disobedience.” I pause, watching her reaction. “Or maybe it was for me. Because I don’t share what’s mine, Geneva. Not with Mason. Not with anyone.”

Her mouth tightens, and for a second, I think she’s going to stand up and leave. But she doesn’t. She stays. My body relaxes.

“You’re sick, Ghost.”

“And you keep coming back,” I say. “Why do you think that is? Why do you keep playing this game with me?”

Her expression hardens, but there’s a flicker in her eyes, something deeper, something she won’t let herself admit yet. “I need answers.”

“But you didn’t need the baseball bat, did you?” I ask, softening my tone. “You could’ve stopped him using only your mind and your education. But you wanted him to feel it. The fear. The power shift. You wanted him to know that you weren’t the weak one.”

“Stop,” she snaps, her voice barely above a whisper, but I still detect the tremor beneath it. “You don’t know anything.”

I chuckle softly, leaning forward to close the space between us. “Oh, but I do. I know you, Dr. Andrews. I know that bat wasn’t just a weapon. It was wrath. All Mason had to do was challenge you and…” I make a swinging motion with an invisible baseball bat, rattling the chain links on my handcuffs. “It would’ve been a home run, darling.”

She shakes her head, refusing to look at me, her hands gripping the table harder now, her knuckles white. “Shut up.”

“You enjoyed every second of that power. Watching him flinch, watching him lose control. It was euphoric.”

Her gaze snaps back to mine, the fire in her eyes blazing even brighter now. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Liar.”

The word hangs in the air between us, sharp and cutting. She wants to deny it, to push back against everything I’m saying. I can see the fury battling with something else—something deeper. Fear? No. Not fear. Recognition.

“You can’t keep pretending that fire inside you doesn’t exist,” I say quietly, my voice losing none of its intensity. “Mason saw it. I’ve seen it. Now it’s your turn.”

CHAPTER 23

My chest heaves with breath as if hearing the words, however true, is a burden.

I wish I could beat the shit out of Ghost. Just once. Instead, I glare at him.

“I’m not the one who sliced into Mason and then put a candle in his mouth, you twisted fuck.”

Ghost shrugs. “I carved him like a pumpkin. At least I didn’t slit the sides of his mouth to put a jack-o’-lantern smile on him. I doubt you would’ve enjoyed that as much as me.”

The grotesque image twists my stomach, but I refuse to let him see even a flicker of the disgust boiling inside me. He already knows I find this entire affair abominable.