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.

She twists in his grip, using her other hand to claw at his face, her nails catching his cheek. He howls in pain but tightens his hold on her and she cries out. The panic in her eyes ignites something primal in me, something depraved and savage.

The vent finally gives, the cover clattering to the floor. The scene below burns into my mind—Geneva, pressed against the wall, her face pale but fierce as she fights back, and Lobo with his filthy hands on her.

I launch myself out of the vent, dropping down into the room with a quiet thud. The second my boots hit the ground, I move. Lobo doesn’t even have time to react before I’m behind him, my arms snaking around his head like a viper. The chain of my cuffs digs into his throat as I pull it taut, locking him in place.

He thrashes, clawing at my arms, gasping for air. But I’m stronger. And I’m fucking pissed. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to touch what doesn’t belong to you?” I ask.

Geneva stares at me, frozen in shock, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. Her wide eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, the world ceases to exist. Because she is my world.

I give her a crooked smile, tightening the chain around Lobo’s neck. “Did you miss me, Doc?”

She blinks, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words come out. Her silence doesn’t matter. I see the answer in her eyes.

Lobo’s body jerks violently, his gasps turning to wet, desperate gurgles. He claws at the chain, his nails scratching at my skin, but I don’t let up. My grip only tightens, fueled by the image of him attacking her, of her fear. Of her pain.

“No one touches her,” I growl, leaning closer to his ear. “No one.”

Geneva finally moves, stepping away from the wall, her hands out in supplication. “Ghost, stop,” she says, her voice shaking but firm. “You’ll kill him.”

“That’s the idea,” I deadpan.

She almost smiles, but the seriousness of the situation stops her. “Let him go. He’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” I repeat, my voice low. “That might be true. But you are worth it. Always.”

I palm the sides of Lobo’s head to pull the chain-link more taut, even as it opens me up to getting elbowed by him. The pain of his blows reinforces how badly he could’ve hurt Geneva.

Eventually, his body goes slack in my arms, his futile struggles ceasing. The weight of him is oddly satisfying, but he’s a heavy fucker, so I’m quick to release him.

Then I kick him for good measure. “Motherfucker.”

Turning to Geneva, I find her staring at me with wide eyes. Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths and her face is pale. She’s shaken, but she’s still standing. Still breathing.

“You okay, Doc?”

She nods slowly, as if she’s not quite sure. “You took long enough getting here.”

“What can I say? I like to make an entrance.”

CHAPTER 31

Ghost stands a few feet away, his expression calm, almost amused, as if he didn’t just strangle someone with his cuffs and drop out of a vent like fucking Batman.

No, he’d be the Joker. Heath Ledger style. Hot but deranged.

I exhale sharply, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, making my knees weak. I hate the way my body betrays me in his presence, not just with fear, but with the uncomfortable heat that coils in my stomach.

“You didn’t have to kill him,” I mutter, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ghost arches an eyebrow, his gaze steady on mine. “Really? You think he’d have stopped if I asked nicely?”

My stomach twists, and I look away, avoiding the body on the floor. Ghost is right, of course. Lobo wouldn’t have stopped. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if Ghost hadn’t been here.

I shift my attention back to him. His gaze hasn’t left me, astute and unrelenting, as if he’s dissecting every emotion flickering across my face.

“You can’t keep doing this,” I say, my shoulders sagging with exhaustion. “You can’t kill every man who threatens me.”

“The fuck I can’t.” Ghost narrows his gaze. “This isn’t the attitude I expected after saving your life.”

The disappointment in his voice cuts me. He’s right. Again. How annoying.

I nod slowly in resignation. “Thank you, Ghost. I really mean it.”

A flicker of something crosses his features. Appreciation? Devotion? I’m not sure because it disappears too quickly for me to read. Whatever the emotion, it was tender. And so at odds with the killer watching me intently.

“That’s more like it,” he says. His customary grin returns. “See how easy that was?”

I roll my eyes, repressing a smile of my own. “Don’t get used to it.”