Page 104 of Depraved Devotion

He finally looks up, his eyes locking onto mine. There’s no smirk, no spark of amusement. Just an empty void. This isn’t the Ghost who risked his life to protect me. This man is a stranger.

“Why are you here, Dr. Andrews?”

His voice is low, rough, and colder than I’ve ever heard it. The sound of it makes me wince.

“Because I wanted to talk to you.”

He waves a hand in dismissal. “Then talk, ’cause I don’t have a fucking thing to say to you.”

I rear back as though he’s slapped me; the pain of his words lingers, harsh and distressing. My nails dig into the palms of my hands as I search for the right thing to say, something that will cut through the barriers he’s built between us—which is ironic because until today, the only thing I’ve done is create walls between us.

“Ghost, I know I hurt you. And I don’t know how else to express my regret, other than saying how sorry I am.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

“I know.” I take another step forward, clutching the hem of my shirt. It’s a telltale sign of my nervousness, but I can’t make myself stop. No more than I can stop my attraction to Ghost. “But you needed to hear my apology.”

My heart stutters in my chest when he slowly gets to his feet and walks up to the bars. His face is a mask, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burn with something volatile. “Get the fuck out.”

I stand there, frozen, unable to move, the weight of his words pinning me in place.

“I said, get the fuck out.”

The command guts me. I turn away, blinking back the tears threatening to spill, but something makes me stop. The question gnawing at the edge of my mind, the one that still needs an answer.

Why.… It’salwayswhy.

“Why are you here?” I ask, slowly turning back to face him.

For a moment, I think he won’t answer, that he’ll keep his silence just to punish me.

“You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you, Doc? Always trying to analyze everything. If you haven’t figured me out by now, you never will.”

I take a step closer, standing on the yellow line. “I think you want me to. I think you’re waiting for me to figure it out… And you didn’t answer my question. Why, Ghost?”

His smirk fades, his jaw clenching, elongating the scar on his face. He leans forward, his fingers curling around the bars like they’re the only thing keeping him from reaching for me. “Stop wasting my time.”

“You knew I’d come,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “Why else would you still be here?”

His expression hardens, his grip on the bars tightening until his knuckles blanch. “I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“You can leave whenever you want. Yet you’re here. You stayed. You were waiting for me. Why?” I begin pacing as the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. The process is slow and mentally taxing, but it’s fitting together nonetheless. “You’ve been provoking me since the moment I walked in here. Pushing me, waiting to see if I’d stay.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

He lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as though the very idea is ridiculous. But he hasn’t denied it. At least, not in a way that I believe.

“But you do,” I whisper. “Which means this is a test.”

I stop pacing and turn to face him. Ghost’s smirk is gone, replaced by a hard, unyielding expression that does nothing tohide the strain radiating from him. His hands tremble around the bars, and for a moment, I imagine him snapping them in half. Or wrapping them around my neck.

“A test?” he repeats, his voice low and mocking. “You’re so fucking full of yourself, Geneva. Not everything is about you.”

“Actually, it is. All of this is for me.Becauseof me.”

His callous attitude hides the manipulation that began before I arrived. Ghost knew I’d come after he broke me last night. He knew I’d be vulnerable.

Anger surges inside me, burning away all caution and all composure. I march up to the bars and jab my finger in his chest.