Page 63 of Imprisoned

I pull up his psychological evaluation. The words jump out at me: “Highly manipulative. Expert at identifying and exploiting vulnerabilities. Forms intense but ultimately false emotional bonds to achieve goals.”

My chest tightens. Everything he’s said, everything he’s done—it could all be an act. The passion, the vulnerability, even the way his voice softens when he says my name.

I think of how perfectly he played into my fantasies. How he knew exactly what to say, what to do. Almost like he’d read my mind. Studied me.

The room spins as another thought hits me: What if I’m just another victim? Another conquest? What if the moment we escape, the mask drops, and I see the real Axel? The one his other victims saw in their final moments?

Panic has me reaching for my phone and debating calling Eleanor. I could confess everything. Maybe there’s still time to fix this before?—

A text notification lights up my screen. It’s him.

I miss you. How about a quick visit before you go home for the night?

My fingers hover over the phone screen, my heart pounding against my ribs. The logical part of my brain screams at me to maintain distance, to protect what little integrity I have left.

We need to be careful. Extra visits will draw attention. Let’s stick to our scheduled sessions.

I hit send before I could change my mind. His response comes instantly.

Scared?

The mocking tone is detectable even in a text, making my skin flush. He knows exactly how to push my buttons.

No. Smart. People are watching. The photos prove it. We can’t risk everything now.

Three dots appear, disappear, and appear again. My stomach twists as I wait.

Since when do you make the rules?

I close my eyes, remembering the crime scene photos. The psychological evaluations. Everything I’ve worked for hangs by a thread.

Please, Axel. Trust me on this. We need to play it safe.

The minutes feel like hours before he responds.

Fine. But you better make our next session worth the wait.

Relief floods through me, followed immediately by shame at how easily he can affect me.

I will.

I set the phone down, knowing it’s the smart call. So why does it feel like I’m trying to convince myself?

The photos in my drawer seem to burn through the wood, a reminder of what’s at stake. One wrong move and everything falls apart.

I gather my things, ignoring how empty my office feels without him. How empty I feel.

28

AXEL

Isprawl on the metal bench, watching Snake and Dante play their usual game of who can come up with the worst jokes.

“What’s black and white and red all over?” Snake grins.

“Man, if you say newspaper, I’ll stab you myself.” Dante rolls his eyes.

“Nah—Marcus’s face after I’m done with him.”

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