My ears pricked at the underlined insinuation. I’d underestimated Burner’s observation skills.

I leant forward and softened my features. “I’ll tell you,” I said, lowering my voice in conspiring camaraderie. “If you win.”

His eyes sparked with interest. “Win what?”

“Whatever game you choose.”

Burner was a gambler, his personal traits synonymous with his addiction; irregularities with his work performance, mood, personality and appearance. The fact that I’d sifted his bank account also helped. Despite the money he’d embezzled from Oakview Asylum, Burner remained in debt beyond repair.

He scuffed his chair closer, eyes gleaming. “Alright, Doctor. We have the Fundraiser coming up, and I want to make an impact on Mayor Arthur Oakview. More importantly, I want to use you to make that impact. If the Mayor hears of the progress you’ve made with Psycho, he may be inclined to donate more money.”

“Stakes?”

Burner steepled his fingers. “If you don’t gain his favour, you tell me what’s discussed in your sessions.”

“Okay.” His aura flared at my simple agreement.

“What about you, Olivia? What do you want if you win?”

I stood, pivoting for the door. Adopting a flirtatious tone, I said, “The satisfaction of beating you is reward enough.”

Burner started, a grimace splitting his eager expression. “Call Fern to me. He’s in the treatment baths assisting with hydrotherapy.”

A shiver ghosted my skin at his statement, my steps growing heavier the closer I climbed to my intended destination.

The tiled room was clinically white, a glossy sheen mirroring grotesque reflections.

A handful of inmates were stripped to their briefs as Fern sprayed them with a high-powered hose (which was predominantly aimed in Psycho’s direction).

Psycho had braced himself against the wall at a strange angle, bearing the brunt of the pressure, protecting Ace, who was huddled behind him.

Nurse Katsy stood aside, a clipboard clasped to her chest, chewing on the end of her pen, her gaze tracking over Psycho’s naked flesh.

I stilled. If I ventured any closer, my Variant would engulf all rational thought and only instinct would remain. For the survival of all others, I couldn’t let that happen.

“What is the meaning of this?” I asked through clenched teeth.

Katsy flinched. “Dr Chaser. I told them to tell you—”

I raised a hand, her words halting from her venomous mouth.

Fern paused his assault and raised a smug brow. “Dr Mudlark ordered hydrotherapy for these patients. We are completing his treatment authority.”

Whimpers echoed from the far wall, frail bodies dripping with ice-cold water.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm yourself.

“Dr Mudlark has no jurisdiction over my patients. Maybe I should pay him a visit, if only to remind him of the conditions required to practice as a doctor in Junction City?”

Fern scowled and Katsy averted my piercing observation.

“Ace Cooks, come with me,” I said.

The remaining patients cowered, however they remained in their positions. They weren’t assigned under my care, so I didn’t have the power to remove them from this heinous treatment.

Turning for the exit, Ace stumbled behind, teeth chattering loudly.

I swallowed the traces of lingering guilt deep down in my gut. It was an emotion I wasn’t attuned to, nor one I wanted to cultivate. I couldn’t save them all.

Before I could pass the threshold, Fern called for my attention. “What about Psycho? He’s yours.”

I glanced over my shoulder. Although he was quivering, Psycho remained resolute and magnificent.

Staring straight into his black holes, I replied, “Is he?” Fern chuckled.

Psycho’s eyes bore into me, their weight heavy. You’re actually going to leave me here?

I huffed. “Fern. Burner wants you in his office.”

“I’ll be there soon,” he replied, before turning the hose back on full blast.

I spared Psycho half a shrug in farewell.

Deal with the consequences.

Ace sank into the chair opposite, his eyes bouncing off my office walls. Tonight he seemed off-kilter, more anxious than usual, his lighter clicking at an alarming rate.

The hydrotherapy incident was hours ago. Dinner had passed and pre-bed rituals had commenced.

I continued on with my sessions booked for tomorrow, hoping distraction would help with my twisted emotions and the suffocating feeling of being trapped.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Can we…can we turn off the lights?”

“Why?”

“I’d feel more comfortable. Please, Doc, I promise I’m not up to no good.” He was genuine, the request hard for him to admit.

I nodded reassuringly and extinguished the lights, his agitation easing away as darkness took hold and his breathing steadied into a mellow, soothing stream.

Blindly recollecting my seat, I spoke into the blackened space. “Is that better?”

“Yes, Doc. I prefer the dark.”