7. Psycho

Ishovelled food into my mouth, not even registering what I was eating.

My next appointment with Dr Chaser was the next day. I was conflicted in my decision whether to accept her invitation or not. I hadn't seen her since I'd caved earlier, my raspy voice breaking the strained silence between us.

Walter and his pack of mutts strode past my table, approaching the lunch line. They're what gave Oakview its haunting reputation: pack hunters that thrived on the pain and suffering of innocents, claiming insanity to escape a real prison. Now their group ruled the majority of Oakview, kissing Burner's ass to escape the mad scientist. Keeping order through violence and coercion.

Weak and pathetic. I loathe them.

Due to their cowardly approach, they never bothered with me. I was the apex predator, and they fucking knew it. They'd forgotten I was there (granted, most did). Regardless of my notoriety and past infamy, I kept to myself.

Technically, I wasn't a psychopath (in the literal sense of the word, anyway). Psycho was the name given to me in the Caverns, the title born from the fighting pits and renowned from my gladiator death matches in the arena. For anyone that had seen me publicly fight or kill, they'd whisper my name equally in awe and fear.

I felt nothing about my soulless deeds. No remorse, no regret.

To them all, I was a psycho. As for me? I didn't care how they saw me, as long as they left me the fuck alone.

Then Walter's sidekick, Zack, made a damning statement, cutting me out of my reverie. "I bet she has a sweet, tight cunt. I have my first session with her this afternoon. I'll find out for you all," he finished, licking his lips.

Walter cracked a laugh, his minions following suit. "No chance will you get with her. She's a fucking doctor. There is no way she will say yes."

"Who said she has to say yes?"

"You're fucking deluded. You wouldn't even get within an inch of her before Fern takes your ass out."

"Haven't you heard? Lil' Cookie said she takes her patient sessions alone. There's no cameras, and she refuses to have security inside her office. She likes her sessions to be private. Some new shrink thing."

Walter was livid, his ears reddening from the news. "When were you going to inform me of this?"

"I'm telling you now." Zack shrugged. "And I'll tell you how it feels when I rip her open once I'm done with her tonight."

Adrenaline rushed through my bloodstream and my brain split open from the inner beast carving at my insides, raging to get out. I didn't have to read him to know what he was thinking, because the same singular thought flooded my mind.

Destroy.

My body was taken over by instinct alone. Jolting to my feet, I launched towards him. No one noticed, the warning too late. With lunch tray in hand, I whipped it across his face, shattering his nose.

I didn't stop, couldn't stop.

I continued to pound the platter into his skull, over and over again. With a heaving chest and strained fingers, my grip faltered, the hunk of bent metal falling to the ground.

His mushed face was unrecognisable, his fractured form deathly still, crimson blood free-flowing to mix through my spilled noodles, strewn across the floor.

Ah, that's what I was eating for lunch. It was hardly appetising anyway.

I retrieved my smokes from the table, ignited one and veered for the exit. Everyone was frozen in place, security barring the walls and doorways. No one stepped up to try and stop me. Instead, they parted so I could walk through, unencumbered.

My beast was preening and I shut that shit down fast, not wanting to add to the growing internal conflict. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so unhinged. And it all came down to her. The bane of my existence.

I couldn't afford to act this way, and refused to dissect the reasons why I did what I did. It wouldn't happen again.

He'd find out, and I didn't want to contemplate the concept of him exploiting another weakness. So I wouldn't create one. I refused to acknowledge that it was even a possibility.

Resolution hardened my chaotic mind.

She was nothing. She was no one.

I couldn't afford for her to be anything else.

My memory hadn't givenher beauty justice, even at night when I dreamed about her with my palm wrapped around my throbbing cock.

Which is why I'd given in.

We were back in her office, our gazes clashed as I removed the swipe card from my boot and slipped it over the desk between us. Lightning-fast, Dr Chaser reached out, fingers brushing over the back of my hand. Raw electric energy erupted from the light pressure, my skin tingling from the gentle caress. I suppressed a growl ripping from my throat as a thick wave of possession sparked in the depths of my mind, demanding I grab and plaster her body to mine.

My Variant danced along the edges of my consciousness, alert and thriving from my frantic call. However, the barrier's perusal was thorough, sucking away any semblance of power. It soon snubbed out the slight flicker of my ability.

Regret settled in my bones when Dr Chaser deposited the swipe in her pocket, out of sight.

Escape, freedom, revenge. So close, yet impossible to acquire.

I can easily take the swipe back and get the fuck out of here?

The idea left, wanting and half-hearted, no conviction behind the notion whatsoever. Despite my desperation to flee and hunt down the fucker that sent me here, there remained one obstacle that was entirely impenetrable.

I'd never risk Ava. Not ever.

Dr Chaser didn't say anything, or address the fact that I'd returned one of the most valuable gifts I'd ever been offered. And in doing so, I'd unwillingly revealed my one weakness.

I never intended to escape. I turned my ire on her, switching my self-loathing on an easier target. One more accessible—and in the vicinity.

MICAH

Psycho was back to his silent, brooding self, as if our last encounter never happened, as if he didn't just give up his one chance of escape.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose to attention as his gaze drilled into mine with scepticism. My motives, my intentions, my very presence. All questions he sought to dissect the answers to.

I removed my lab coat and his black, greedy eyes sank into my tattoos. The further his stare lingered, his emotions intensified into pure, undeniable lust. Warmth shot over my bare skin straight down to my centre, my body humming in expectation.

"Stop looking at me like that," I snapped. My physical response was always in conflict when we were together.

Psycho gave a smug smile. "You're stripping off the wrong garment, Doctor."

"It serves a purpose."

"What purpose? To distract me with your feminine charm?"

"For some reason, I don't think that would work."

Psycho wanted me. I had no doubt. However, I could also feel his rigid will and ironclad resolve. Psycho did not trust me, and would never let his idled desire overshadow the potential threat I posed. He wouldn't budge. Not without incentive or compromise.

I tilted my head in contemplation, assessing my next move. How was I supposed to gain information from a man that would never trust me?

"Why did you attack Zack yesterday? His face was unrecognisable. Did he take the last sandwich?"

"I don't like people touching what's mine," Psycho said.

Although we'd had minimal contact or conversation, Psycho was shockingly honest. Every word that he said in my presence rang with truth.

I leant forward, crossing my arms over the desk surface. "You have a reputation, Psycho. Not just in Oakview, but in Junction City. Did you have the same reputation in the Ludus Maximus, I wonder?"

Psycho mirrored my actions, leaning in to meet me halfway. I ignored the innate warning and continued with my outspoken inquisition.

I lifted a hand to trace the air above his arm, not quite making contact. "Rumours say that you have an alter ego buried within you. That you only let him out when you want to destroy or inflict pain." Psycho's eyes narrowed on my fingers, his muscles tensed to the brink of snapping. "That isn't true though. I understand now. There's more underneath it all, isn't there? You're not quite whole," I whispered the statement with hardly enough breath to formulate actual words.

He"d heard. Psycho slammed his fists against the surface, the table vibrating from the resounding echo.

My brow lifted at his outburst. "It isn't a threat."

I needed more insight into his core. I was desperate for a glimpse into his inner sanctum, and for that, I required physical touch.

When I reached for his wrist, his hand whipped out to tighten around my throat. "Don't fucking touch me," he seethed through his teeth.

Psycho's entire entity shoved forth with aggressive assault, my Variant flaring to life. When I identified his ardent need, Psycho shoved me back, my neck tender from his grasp.

Without contemplating the consequences, I pulled a vial from my pocket, the stark red of blood shining brightly in the grey room.

I twisted the thin glass between us. "This contains an elixir that can counteract the suppressant barrier surrounding this asylum."

"This gives you access to your Variant?" Psycho asked, his attention never deviating from my hand.

"Not its full effect, but yes. You will gain access to your Variant for a short period of—"

Psycho pulled on my wrists, hard and fast. My top half crushed to the desk, arms extended, my wrists held firmly together with one of his large, unrelenting hands. With the other, he leisurely brought a cigarette to his mouth and lit the tip.

"Stop playing with me, Golden Girl, or you're going to get hurt. I'm not your whore that you can bend over and fuck whenever you please."

"I can feel the battle within you, Psycho. This will help."

"Why should I not shove this vial down your fucking throat?" He snatched the ampule from my limp fingers and examined the contents. "For all I know, this shit is laced with Devil's Flower, and my days have come to an end. Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't. You'd be a fool if you did."

"Who are you? What do you want?" His interest was genuine. He was legitimately asking, searching for an honest answer. Any reservation I held dwindled before his sincere intentions.

I tugged on his hold, using his tight grip as leverage. Twisting my body upward, I lurched over the desk to crash into his lap, my legs straddling his hips.

Psycho hid his surprise well, exhaling smoke directly into my face. He released his hold to band his arms tightly around my waist, nil room for escape.

For this mission to be accomplished, his trust was a requirement. What I hadn't anticipated was me wanting that trust. I desperately wanted him to believe in me—for me—and to gain that I had no choice but to make my own sacrifice.

I slowly raised my hands and placed them on either side of his face, restraining my fingers to tangle in his midnight blue hair. My Variant soaked my skin in blissful warmth, as if I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Gazing directly into his boundless eyes, I gave him a glimpse of myself in return.

"My name…my true name is Micah King. And what I want is what this world revolves around. Revenge."

I reluctantly extricated myself from his lap and turned for the door, away from his grasp, vacant of his touch. He didn't stop me.