I grip the edge of the vent, and I pull myself up into the darkness, my blood burning with rage and purpose. She’s keeping him talking, keeping herself alive.
But that won’t last forever.
Hold on, Geneva. I’m coming.
The darkness wraps around me, the cold metal brushing against my forearms as I maneuver through the narrow space. The sounds from below filter up, keeping me informed. It’s a mix of Geneva’s steady voice, Lobo’s labored breathing, and the chaos of the riot outside.
“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” Lobo says. “You think you’re so smart, huh? Just because you’ve got a degree doesn’t mean you’ve got me figured out.”
Geneva’s response is measured, professional. She’s in her element, even under duress. “You’re right. I don’t know everything about you. But I do know that you’re better than this. You’ve survived worse, haven’t you? You don’t have to let it define you.”
In a moment of indecision, the inmate hesitates again, but it’s meaningless. Men like him are ruled by their impulses and their insecurities. It’s only a matter of time before he lashes out.
The vent creaks softly under my weight as I inch closer to the opening above Geneva’s side of the interrogation room. My hands, still cuffed, ache from the effort, but the discomfort is nothingcompared to the searing determination driving me forward. She’s buying time. Precious seconds I intend to use.
The shuffle of Lobo’s boots reaches me as he shifts his weight. “This is just some shrink shit you’re using to stall.”
“Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe I’m showing you something no one else has. That you have a choice.”
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 venomousword 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.
