I hang my head, my chest tightening with every breath. With every heartbeat. No one has ever cared about me like this. No one has ever viewed my pain as a personal affront to them. It’s a toxic possessiveness. Undoubtedly. But the intensity of it—of being someone’s singular obsession, their reason for rage and vengeance—is unlike anything I’ve ever witnessed, let alone experienced.
“Did you really think I would let anything happen to you?”
Ghost’s voice slides over my mind like silk, a caress to my psyche. It’s as though he’s right next to me, whispering in the stillness. Into my soul.
His words carry a depraved devotion, an assurance that nomatter what happens, he would never let harm come to me if it were within his control. And for someone like him, a man who has no limits, no fear of consequences, that promise holds a terrifying weight. It’s a promise that, no matter what lines he has to cross, no matter what darkness he has to invoke, he will ensure that I am safe.
The idea of this makes me feel… valued. Cherished.
This feeling exposes a need that’s woven into the very fabric of who I am. A need that I’ve buried under layers of control and competence. However, in this moment, Ghost’s words are pulling back those layers. This is what he does, cutting into the most raw parts of me without hesitation. Without mercy.
My parents, due to their unexpected absence, were never able to make me feel this way. I was a child, lost in the chaos of life, constantly trying to fill the hole their deaths created. I grew up telling myself that I didn’t need protection from another, that I was strong enough to handle anything alone. And I am.
But Ghost believes I’m important. Irreplaceable. He would paint the world red with the blood of my enemies, if it meant keeping me safe. This promise of security, although coated in violence, is something my parents couldn’t give me.
And it’s something I desperately want.
At this realization the trembling in my legs intensifies until I’m sinking to the floor, unable to stand. With my back pressed against the wall, I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my chin on my knees, praying for some unknown entity to hear me. To rescue me from Ghost.
And myself.
I don’t know how long I sit there, curled on the floor as Ghost’s promise envelops me, fills me with a sense of worth I can’t ignore.It’s wrong, and so many levels of fucked-up, but in the quiet corners of my mind, it feels right.
It’s what I’ve been missing.
Eventually, I take a shuddering breath and push to my feet, swaying before steadying myself. My body is weak, hollowed out by the intensity of everything he’s revealing in me.
My steps to the bedroom are slow and heavy. Reaching into my dresser, I pull out a worn pair of pajamas, soft cotton that offers a bit of comfort. I change without thinking, the movements mechanical, as if dressing in something familiar might soothe me a little.
I flick my eyes to the window, noting the sun shining brightly between the closed blinds. It’s not even noon, but I can’t imagine interacting with anyone while successfully pretending to be the collected, put-together person I’ve always been. Instead, I crawl under the blankets with a sigh.
My body sinks into the mattress, my muscles finally loosening. I stare at the ceiling until my gaze drifts across the room, catching on the small stuffed elephant sitting on my dresser. Its faded fur and beady eyes are a reminder of another time.
A reminder of what I’ve lost.
After getting to my feet, I retrieve the item and hug it to my chest, fighting tears of both exhaustion and sorrow. I return to the bed and tuck the elephant under the covers, and then lightly squeeze its worn body.
A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I remember my father giving it to me, his smile warm when he placed it in my waiting arms. I was so young then, barely able to comprehend the world around me, let alone the complexities of safety and danger. Life and death.
My parents, both humanitarians, had taken me to Africa, a journey filled with purpose and hope, even if I was too youngto understand its significance. I remember the smell of the sun-baked earth, the kindness of the people they helped, along with the laughter and stories they shared under starlit skies.
They were so full of goodness. And yet, despite all their compassion, they couldn’t shield me from fate: their unexpected deaths, followed by the void they left behind.
“An elephant never forgets.”My dad smiles in my memory.“So never forget how much we love you.”
“I wish I could forget,” I whisper in the emptiness. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
A tear slips down my cheek. I hastily wipe it away, but another appears. I squeeze the stuffed elephant tighter and bury my face in its fur, clutching this small remnant of them until past and present collide.
Until my parents’ love is a distant memory and Ghost’s obsession for me is all that remains.
CHAPTER 24
GHOST
Geneva is a worthy adversary.
It’s been a week since she last visited or texted me back. Seven days of silence, no matter how many different numbers I use to contact her, or how many provoking messages I send.
