Because solitary isn’t forever.

When Skinner gets out, he’ll come for me again. Or worse, he’ll try to make good on his threat to go after Geneva. That’s not an option.

I glance toward the yard’s gates, the world around me beginning to return to normal as my vision clears. The crowd has dispersed, the guards on edge while returning to their posts. My arm throbs, but the pain is insignificant.

I stand, brushing the dust from my pants before I head toward the medical wing. The blood staining my sleeve is a reminder, not just of the fight but of what’s to come. Skinner wanted to leave a mark on me, but he only succeeded in marking himself for death.

Unlike Mason, I’m going to take my sweet time with Skinner.

The thought makes me smile, and I end up whistling all the way to the medical wing.

CHAPTER 28

I’ve spent the past week thinking about Ghost’s “present,” and I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve been using the candle as well. The scent of magnolia, for better or worse, has grown on me.

On my nightstand, the candle burns as I stare at it, sitting cross-legged on my bed. The soft glow illuminates the room, casting shadows that stretch and shift with every movement of the flame. Its presence is both haunting and familiar, like Ghost himself.

I grip the stuffed elephant tighter. He moved the toy. It was intentional. The very thought makes my hands clammy and I force myself to take a steadying breath. If that psychopath wanted to hurt me, he would’ve. However gruesome, that’s a fact.

Then why did he place the elephant next to the box with the candle? Was it to group items from my past and present, so I’d realize they’re connected? Or was it an act of dominion, Ghost’s way of telling me that he can reach the deepest, most vulnerable parts of me?

It’s both.

That’s only one piece of the message. The magnolia-scented candle, the red ribbon on a white box, the note with a hidden acrostic… every single item tells me something. I think I finally understand.

All that’s left is for me to confirm everything by visiting the source. Except I don’t want to see Ghost again. Ever.

Only, he’ll never let me go.

Blocking Ghost’s number and ignoring his texts has led to him breaking into my home and violating my space. If I continue to deny him contact with me, who knows what he’ll do next? For this reason—and to gain answers concerning my parents—I’m going back to the prison.

It’s only for this reason. Not because I’m still fascinated by him or curious about what he wants from me. Not because I’m physically attracted to him or enthralled by his brilliant mind. It’s certainly not because he’s unlike any man, or criminal, I’ve ever met.

It can’t be.

Or I’m the one who’s insane.

After sliding from the bed, I walk over to stand in front of the mirror, assessing my appearance. The oversized sweater and leggings I’ve been wearing all day are the complete opposite of the way I usually dress. The professional, clean-cut and pressed suit is the armor I put on when facing Ghost.

But today that feels useless. This man has already found every chink in my armor and exploited them. So what’s the point in changing my clothes?

With a sigh, I walk over to blow out the candle. The flame dances, defiant, before I take a deep breath and lean in. But just as my lips part, I notice something beneath the surface of the melted wax.

There are letters. Words.

Your time is up, Doc.

Sweat breaks out across my forehead and I wipe it away with an angry swipe of the hand. He planned this. Every step, every sentence, down to the moment I’d find this note.

My time is up? For what? The ambiguity is suffocating, but that’s the point. Torture of the mind hurts more than torture of the body because it never ends.

I exhale sharply and blow out the candle, watching the wax go from translucent to opaque. Only when the threatening words are no longer visible do I move. The scent of magnolia lingers, oppressive and cloying, wrapping around me as I head for the door.

If Ghost wants to talk, then let’s fucking do it.

As the guard escorts me to the interrogation room, my pulse quickens with every step. I can’t understand Ghost’s mind enough to predict his behavior, which means…

I can’t defend myself against him.

Admitting that, even if it’s only to myself, is debilitating. But it’s too late to turn back now. Ghost won’t let me.

The guard gestures for me to enter once we reach the door. I hesitate, my hand hovering over the handle for a fraction of a second before I push it open. The moment I step inside, I feel it: his presence.

Ghost is on his feet.

It’s jarring, seeing him like that, tall and imposing on the other side of the glass. His posture is relaxed but commanding, one hand tucked casually into the pocket of his prison-issued pants, the other resting on his abdomen. He cocks his head as he watches me enter, his expression unreadable but his eyes alive with that sharp, predatory gleam I’ve been on the other end of more times than I can count.

I stop short, my pulse hammering against my ribs as I take him in. His gaze locks onto mine. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, but the sheer intensity of him fills the space, making it smaller.

I force myself to take another step, then another, until I’m standing at my side of the glass. The chair in front of me feels like a barrier and a trap all at once. I grip the back of it to hide my nerves.

“Dr. Andrews,” Ghost says, his voice low and smooth, like velvet dragged over a blade. The sound of it makes my skin prickle with sexual awareness, and I hate how my body reacts. How it betrays me.

I remain standing, mirroring his stance to keep us on the same level. “You broke into my house.”

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t so much as blink. Instead, his lips curl into an impish smile. “And?” he replies, his voice dripping with amusement. “Did you like my present?”

“No.”

His chuckle is low and dangerous, reverberating in the enclosed space. “The magnolia. The note. Even the message hidden under the wax. All deliberate. Tell me, how long did it take you to figure it out?”

“Some parts were more obvious than others.”

He nods. “The acrostic was rather easy.”

“M. I. N. E. Magnolias bloom, masking death’s decay. Illuminating the shadows, where I wait. Never let the flame that binds us fade. Every breath you take is mine to claim.” I roll my eyes. “So romantic.”

“I thought so,” he says with a grin. “Tell me what else you discovered.”

“Magnolia trees were often planted in cemeteries to cover the stench of death. You chose that scent to reference my parents being dead and buried. The ‘shadows where you wait’ is more literal. Case in point, you broke into my apartment. Shadows can also represent the darkness that covers your mind. As for the flame that binds?” I purse my lips in thought. “You believe we share a connection that you consistently refer to as the fire inside me.”

He leans forward. “And lastly?”

“My breath is yours to claim… That line makes it sound as if you want all of me, from the inessential to the vital.”

“Very good, Dr. Andrews. A-plus.”

“Now what?”

He quirks a brow. “Hmm?”

“You said I’m out of time. What the fuck do you want from me, Ghost?”

He gives me a wicked smile. “What do I want from you?” He shakes his head slowly, the motion controlled, his gaze never leaving mine. “I think you know the answer to that, Dr. Andrews. I’ve told you before.”