Shaw studies me, tapping his fingers against the counter in a rhythmic pattern. Finally, he blows out a breath, fixing me with a pointed stare. “All right, Dr. Andrews, you can talk to him. But if anything feels off, I’m pulling you out immediately.”
I keep my expression composed and professional, despite my knees getting weak with relief. “I understand. Thank you, Officer.”
He grabs his keys and motions for me to follow. “This way.”
The walk through the plain hallways is agonizingly familiar. Each step feels heavier than the last, my resolve wavering with every turn. What in the hell am I going to say to Ghost? Will he even listen?
Shaw leads me deeper into the prison, past corridors I’ve walked countless times. The further we go, the more oppressive the atmosphere becomes. The lights overhead do nothing to erase the shadows in every corner.
“This area’s been cleared out,” Shaw says over his shoulder, his voice echoing in the empty space. “Only a skeleton crew assigned here. Too dangerous to keep him anywhere else.”
I nod silently. The usual low hum of voices, the clang of cell doors, and the muted shuffle of inmates are missing. The silence is unnerving, punctuated only by the buzz of electricity and the faint sound of our footsteps.
We stop at a heavy steel door marked with bold yellow letters:
SECURED ISOLATION UNIT. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
Shaw punches in a code, and the lock releases with a heavy click. “Stay behind me,” he says firmly, stepping through first.
The air here is colder. My eyes are immediately drawn to the thick yellow line painted on the floor, running parallel to the rows of reinforced bars. Shaw points to it with his flashlight.
“That’s the safe zone,” he says.
I stop just short of the line, my toes an inch away.
“Don’t get too close to the bars,” he continues, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Ghost is smart. And fast. If he gets his hands on you…” Shaw trails off, his meaning clear.
I force myself to nod again, even as my pulse races.
The guard leads me down the row, past empty cells that remind me of hollowed-out tombs. The walls here are thicker, the bars reinforced and the floors spotless. This place has been stripped of humanity, designed solely for containment.
Shaw stops in front of a cell, his hand resting on the baton at his hip as he glances at me. His expression is unreadable, but his posture radiates caution. “Dr. Andrews, I’ll be right down the hall. If you yell, I’ll hear you.”
I nod, my throat dry. “Understood.”
“Don’t cross the line,” Shaw reminds me, his voice low but firm.
I don’t respond. My attention is locked on the man in the cell, his presence filling the space like a tangible force. The echo of Shaw’s footsteps fades into the background, leaving me alone with Ghost.
CHAPTER 46
GENEVA
Ghost is sitting on the edge of the small cot, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. He doesn’t look up, his focus fixed on a point on the floor.
“Ghost,” I say softly, my voice trembling.
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t move.
“Ghost,” I try again, louder this time.
Still nothing. His posture doesn’t change, but the tension lining his shoulders is unmistakable. As is the muscle flickering along his jaw every so often.
“I know you’re angry,” I say, taking a small step closer, careful to stay behind the yellow line on the floor. “And you should be.”
His fingers twitch, but it’s enough to make my stomach tighten. He heard me. He’s listening.
I take another tentative step closer, my heart hammering in my chest. “I’m sorry.”
