3. Micah

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.

Slipping up to her side, I whispered, "You're supposed to run, otherwise it's no fun."

Surprisingly, she didn't flinch in alarm. Instead, she leant closer, wisps of her fragrant hair skating over my face. "Maybe I wanted to be caught."

Fuck. That voice alone ignited a live wire through my nervous system.

I circled her. "Why'd you come here, Doctor? Why'd you lower yourself into this cesspit filled with sinners and degenerates?"

"What if I said I came for you?" Her voice was calm, inviting.

"Of course you did. They always do," I halted at her back. "What do you want from me?"

"Accept my request and you'll find out."

The air stirred and she was already gone, disappearing amongst the moving shadows that danced along the walls.

I didn't haveto wait long, her request for assessment arriving soon after, as if I were a dog waiting to be called by my master. She'll soon learn who the fucking alpha is around here.

Fern and one of his faceless henchmen escorted me to her office. As I entered, Dr Chaser stood from her desk, raising a hand in silent command, eyes fixed firmly on the men behind me.

Fern paused mid-step, halting at the entrance. "Doctor, I implore that we attend this session. For your safety."

She didn't even deem him with a reply, instead shutting the door directly in his face. I snickered. Fern was a brute who thrived on authority. He wouldn't let that go lightly.

Sweeping back to her desk with refined poise, her long hair fluttered behind as if she had her own damn breeze. Countless shades of natural browns reflected a glossy sheen with each angle that she bent her slender, breakable neck.

Dr Chaser was either a na?ve bitch with no life preservation, or she was that fucking stupid to think there was no danger in entering the lair of a starved hunter.

I flipped the heavy chair to sit backwards, using the back as an armrest, lighting a cigarette.

Dr Chaser sat behind her desk, her stare slowly tracking over my form until her brass amber eyes locked on mine. Her mask was impassive, cold and infuriatingly unreadable.

Frustrated, I exhaled smoke straight into her face before rolling my mouth into a sneer. I swear her eyes flared with anticipation, lips twitching slightly at the corners.

Game on, bitch.

Dr Chaser removedher lab coat and jacket, remaining in a short-sleeved dress shirt. I greedily traced the multicoloured tattoos riddled up her exposed arms, some peeking out of her collar. The imagery was drawn with such meticulous precision. I was impressed.

Her actions and manner of dress were hardly wanton, however my brain and body didn't seem to care, reacting all the same. A fiery ache of hunger festered in my gut and when I thought how fucking ridiculous my reaction was, I caught a flash of passion hidden in the recesses of her reflective pools.

My mouth stretched into a wide, shark grin. "Is this your form of treatment, Doctor? To seduce me into submission? Well, how bout we both get some therapy and strip your panties off next?"

She ignored me completely, preferring to bait me instead.

"Everyone thinks you've lost the plot. That you"re dim-witted and have nothing of substance up here," she said, tapping a finger on her temple. "But that's not it, huh, Psycho? There's more to you, much more."

I arched a brow at her forward approach. She really did have a fucking death wish. I didn't like the way she was examining me, as if she could dig past my bullshit, to burrow down into my very core.

I stubbed my cigarette in the ashtray aggressively.

Her head tilted, unperturbed. "You have quite the reputation. I believe in the last ten months, you've made no headway with your sentence. Are you fully aware that if you work with us and show signs of rehabilitation, you may be able to re-enter the world again?"

I focused on my fists that rested atop my thighs, if only to prevent them from pounding into her flesh until she was soft, malleable, complete mush.

Dr Chaser stood abruptly, shuffling the two papers that were on her desk (which were fucking blank, I might add). "I won't waste my time on an unwilling participant." My teeth ground together as she stared down at me like some almighty fucking saint. "If you do not comply, you will be locked in this shithole forever."

Sauntering towards the door, her clicking heels mocked me with every step—until my unfiltered wrath spilled over my non-existent threshold.

I lunged, tugging on her loose strands, and slammed her face-first into the wall. Her body jarred from the impact, the vibration ricocheting back into me, her head turned and hair in disarray as she took large, gulping breaths.

Leaning down, I murmured against her ear. "Baby, let me make this loud and clear, ‘cause you obviously didn't read enough in that file about me. You do not come into my domain and tell me what the fuck has to be done. This is my house, and I'm at the motherfucking top of the food chain. Now, you either tell me why you're really here and what you want from me, or get the fuck out before you become my next meal."

She gave a cocky smirk, as if the idea of being my prey wasn't something she was averse to. I believed I'd misheard when a quiet groan escaped her lips, until her ass pushed back against my rock-hard dick.

I was more than willing to corrupt her flawless soul, blemish her perfect shining beacon of hope and smudge her innocence with my filth.

"Hmm. The Doctor likes the bad boys, huh? Well, if it's a dirty fuck with a killer you"re looking for, babe, I'm more than happy to oblige."

I loosened a long breath, my lips skimming across her jawline, ready to steal a taste, when a hard elbow pounded into my ribs, sending my lungs heaving.

Before I could react, her tiny form slipped out from beneath me. She twisted in some elaborate formation, toppled my bulk off-balance and slammed my back against the wall, a switchblade digging into my throat for good measure.

A slight bruise was forming on her cheekbone, her hair deranged as I'd ripped out a good chunk in the process. My eyes lasered in on her mouth as she licked a minor cut on her bottom lip.

I thirsted to sink my teeth into her wounded flesh. She was the sexiest being I'd ever encountered—I'd ever felt—with her rounded breasts pushed up against my chest.

Who the hell is she?Not some altruistic doctor, that's for sure. Not just anyone could take me off guard like that, let alone physically bend me to their will.

She was fast, talented and damn experienced. A great combination for someone that's dangerous. I could fight and disarm her in a second. Instead, my curiosity was sparked.

"Who are you?" I asked, dropping all pretence.

She leant in slowly, her blade digging deeper into my skin, a trail of blood escaping the incision. "Let's just say, I can help you escape."

"There is no escape."

She pressed closer, her exhale teasing my neck. "We will see." My heart skipped a beat when her wet tongue flicked out, stealing a taste of my blood. She abruptly pulled away, unlatched the door and made her escape without a backward glance.

I caressed the lingering spot where she'd licked, my fingertips coming away stained bright ruby red.

My cock was strained, my mouth agape, my mind a convoluted mess.

What the fuck just happened?

When I came back to my senses, something hard and small dug into my hip. A swipe card was wedged inside my waistband. Displayed on top was the clear professional picture of a smiling siren with her name printed directly below—Dr Olivia Chaser.