I pushed her off and she caught herself before hitting the ground. “Stop being ridiculous. I haven’t even met him. Hardly had a conversation.” In reality, we’d had no conversation at all.
“Prove it. Describe him to us?” Emerson asked.
Spencer practically bounced on the spot, like a puppy waiting for a treat. “Yeah, tell us about him. We need a debrief.”
“It’s hard to explain. He’s…intriguing. I can’t get a proper read on him. The suppressant barrier also has an effect.”
Spencer cocked her head. “I’ve never seen you like this. So ruffled and unsure. Or remotely interested in anyone other than a good fuck.”
“I’m not interested. It isn’t like that.”
Emerson bit her lip in concern, thankfully not adding to the commentary.
Spencer tucked a loose strand behind my ear. The gesture itself was innocent until my skin itched in warning. Then she opened her mouth. “Well then, you wouldn’t mind if we swap out and I take over this case for you, huh?”
My muscles reacted on instinct alone. Gripping onto her fingers, I bent them back to the point of snapping. “Try me, Spence. Don’t even think about stepping into that asylum, or I swear you won’t come back out.”
“Oh, you really, really like him,” she said, her aura lighting up with glee, the flare of excitement so bright, it was almost as blindingly brilliant as her red hair.
Emerson tsked in the background, displaying her disappointment at my lack of self-control.
I huffed, releasing Spencer from my grip. Emerson veered for the fridge, collecting various ingredients. “Tell us everything.”
Spencer poured herself another coffee, straddled Emerson’s empty stool and winked. I rolled my eyes at her toddler shenanigans and told my sisters about my first impression of the infamous Psycho.
Chapter 3Micah
The days bled into one continuous reel, our wordless game of cat-and-mouse ticking over with intensity. I’d dodged him at every turn, his interest piqued, frustration rife in the lining of his features.
I stood on the outskirts of the bustling cafeteria as dinner was served, coercing my Variant to settle in my chest. Tanner and Emerson utilised their abilities to concoct some semblance of immunity to the suppressant barrier, my circulation adjusting to the elixir (it wasn’t entirely foolproof).
Although severely diminished, my Variant remained intact. The sole reason I was best suited for this infiltration mission.
Psycho was on the verge of snapping, his rabid beast fighting to be released. Frankly, I was surprised he wasn’t pacing the halls. Instead he remained still, preferring to brood and haunt me from afar.
No matter his position or location, I could always sense him.
Squaring my shoulders, my focus snapped to the predator in question leaning against the far wall. His black combat boots were crossed at the ankles, leather pants casually around his hips and a tight black tee stretched over his long torso. His dark clothes accentuated the tapestry of tattoos that climbed all the way up his jawline.
His head tilted with feline grace, animalistic in nature, and as I held his unwavering gaze, his lips lifted in a challenging smirk. Then the lights cut out. Little did he know, I was more than willing to carve up that pretty face until he was screaming the answers I came here to find.
He wanted to catch me, ensnare me in his trap.
Should I let him?
PSYCHO
There she stood, lab coat blindingly white, as pristine as her fake conscience. I watched her, fucking stalked her, as she stood on the opposite side of the mess hall.
Dr Chaser, the enigma that haunted my goddamned dreams. With one glance and barely a hair flick, she had me infatuated—a dangerous position to be in. I didn’t need another liability, and I’d do anything to ensure she didn’t become one.
Our new psychiatrist had the instincts of survival and the penchant for games, revealing her calculated mind as she escaped my sharpened claws for the millionth time this week. Forever scoping, forever taunting, baiting me like the juiciest, ripest fucking fruit I’d never be able to sink my teeth into.
Either I was losing my touch, or the good doctor wasn’t the innocent doe she liked to portray. Heads up, she is no innocent.
She wanted something from me. They all did. No one dared enter my territory without a motive.
I was the perfect test subject. Some wanted to fix me. Others sourced me out to assuage their blatant curiosity, while a fair few laid down a bribe for intel on the underground. It never mattered. Whatever reason they came searching, they always left disappointed. Or not breathing at all.
The last departed with a coat hanger sticking out of his throat, body pale and pulseless, his entry sanctioned by the one and only Manager Burner, head of the nefarious Terror Squad that ruled over Oakview Asylum like their own personal kingdom.
Burner’s death was a recurrent fantasy that played in my mind, alongside the end of his corrupt minions that frothed for his tiny dick. I couldn’t deny they had power over me, as their alliance with Maximus for my imprisonment remained intact. I awaited the day their association would crumble, and salivated at the thought of gutting them all like the animals they were.
Dr Mudlark had returned from his hiatus and planned to commence his grotesque experiments that night. I’d cracked the system, perused his schedule and found Cookie at the top of his list. A lanky teen whose only crime was hanging with the wrong crowd. Despite my refusal to connect with anyone in this godforsaken place, my sole enjoyment came from fucking up their plans.
With a metaphorical pat on the back, I clocked my prey as the seconds ticked down.
Three. Two. One.
Alarms split the air as Oakview Asylum had a widespread power outage. All doors unlocked, all light smothered in darkness. I inhaled deeply, lapping up the screams from all directions.
Chaos ensued.
Prisoners ran rampant and staff blindly searched for cover. I dodged the unruly crowd and zoned in on my target, who remained steadfast.
Anticipation bubbled in my veins. Her flight or fight response completely combusted, panic leaving her in the most perilous position.
