Not because he doesn’t care, but because I refused to admit that I do.
I wrap my arms around my knees, trying to hold together the pieces of me he’s broken apart. My mind replays his words, his confessions, and the way he’s looked at me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. But now, he’s untethered himself from me.
And from what’s left of his humanity.
My thoughts spin faster, spiraling down into places I don’t want to go. As a psychologist, I know what this means. For someone like Ghost, who thrives on control, who’s built his identity on power and manipulation, this kind of rejection isn’t something he can simply let go of. It’s not something he can recover from.
If Ghost descends further into whatever dark place he’s already inhabiting, the consequences won’t just be personal. He’ll explode, taking everything and everyone in his path down with him. Because when people like Ghost lose control, it’s never quiet and it’s never contained.
It’s catastrophic.
And I won’t be able to pretend I’m not partially responsible for it.
CHAPTER 45
GENEVA
The prison looms ahead, its geometric silhouette cutting into the morning sky. I shouldn’t be here. I know that. Every rational part of me screams to turn around, to leave this place behind and pretend that what Ghost and I have isn’t consuming me.
But the rational part of me hasn’t been in control for a while now.
I stare at the entrance, hesitation wrapping around my body, immobilizing me. Ghost isn’t the type to sit quietly in his cell when freedom awaits. He was here these past months because he chose to be. Because this prison wasn’t a cage for him; it was a chessboard. Every move calculated, every piece exactly where he wanted it to be.
Including me.
Ghost orchestrated all of it. To get to me. And I still don’t understand the depth of it. What I do know is that if he’s still here, it’ll be a miracle. There’s a large part of me that thinks he’s already gone, vanished like smoke, taking his chaos and intensity with him.
But I have to try.
I wish I could say that my motivations are pure and selfless. That I only want to save innocent people from death and destruction. It’s just not true. I’m here for themandmyself.
The guard at the front desk greets me with a confused expression as I approach. Probably because of my disheveled appearance that consists of a messy bun, plain black t-shirt, and wrinkled skirt. I attempted to look professional and obviously “nailed it.”
“Good morning, Dr. Andrews. Didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”
Neither did I.
“Is he here?” I ask, ignoring his greeting. My voice is steady, but the undercurrent of desperation is impossible to hide.
The guard’s brow furrows. “You mean Ghost?” He glances down at his clipboard, then back at me. “He hasn’t been logged for transfer or visitation.”
I sigh, my relief making me light-headed for a second. “He’s here.”
The guard hesitates, his eyes scanning my face. “What’s this about? You terminated your sessions with him, right?”
“Yes,” I say. “But I need to see him one last time. It won’t take long.”
He sighs, setting down his pen. “Ghost specifically said no visitors.”
I scan the man’s name tag. “I understand, Officer Shaw. Can you please ask him anyway.”
Time stretches painfully as the guard makes the call, his voice low and clipped as he relays the request. I can’t hear the response, but the way his lips press into a thin line tells me enough.
When Shaw hangs up, he looks at me, his expression unreadable. “He refused.”
The words land like a blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I force myself to stand tall, to keep my composure, but inside, I’m unraveling. “Did he give a reason?”
The guard shakes his head. “Didn’t have to. He just said no.”
