Page 65 of Imprisoned

“They’re airlifting him to County General now,” Martinez adds. “Don’t know if he’ll make it.”

The color drains from Willow’s face. Her fingers tighten on the clipboard until her knuckles turn white. I catch her gaze, seeing the panic blooming behind her eyes. We both know what this means. Solitary confinement could derail everything we’ve planned for Saturday.

“I need to process him for solitary,” Thompson tells her. “Might want to clear the hall, Dr. Matthews. He’s still pretty worked up.”

Willow takes a step back, but I see the silent question in her expression.

What have you done?

I give her the barest hint of a nod.

Trust me.

“Keep moving,” Martinez orders, shoving me forward.

As they march me past her, I catch the faintest whiff of her perfume—orange and cherry blossom. The scent centers me, drowning out the last echoes of bloodlust still rattling in my skull.

The concrete walls of solitary feel different this time. I pace the small cell, cursing myself for losing control so publicly. Calculated violence is one thing—that’s survival. But this blind rage? That’s sloppy, dangerous, and a mistake that could derail everything.

I flex my bandaged hands, remembering the satisfying crunch of his bones. The rage still simmers beneath my skin, ready to explode again at the thought of him threatening her.

She’s making you weak.

She’s changing you.

They may be right. I’ve never lost control like that over someone else before. Never cared enough to defend anyone but myself. The smart play would have been to let Marcus think he had leverage, then eliminate him quietly later.

Instead, I nearly killed him in front of fifty witnesses because he dared to threaten what was mine.

What’s happening to me?

Willow was supposed to be a game—a naive little doctor to manipulate and corrupt. Something to pass the time, but somewhere between her shy smiles and passionate moans, she got under my skin. Made me feel things I’d never possessed the ability to feel.

The memory of her touch quiets the voices that have screamed in my head since childhood. When I’m buried inside her, the world narrows to just us—no violence, no darkness, just peace.

It terrifies me. I don’t do attachment because attachment is a weakness. Weakness gets you killed.

But the thought of anyone hurting her makes my blood boil. My demons demand violence, demand I tear apart anyone who threatens her. For the first time in my life, I agree with their bloodlust.

You’re going soft.

Let her go before she destroys you.

I can’t. Won’t. She’s mine now, whether I planned it or not. And I’ll paint these walls red with the blood of anyone who tries to take her from me. If it comes to it, I will murder every last person in these walls and bathe in their blood just to keep her.

29

WILLOW

Iwalk through the prison entrance, feeling on edge as our plan hinges on them letting Axel out of solitary soon.If he’s in for a month like he was the last time, it will get in the way.

“Good morning, Dr. Matthews.” Thompson nods as I pass.

I force a smile at him. “Morning, Thompson.”

I hurry down the sterile hallway to my office, my heels clicking against the linoleum floor. My hands are unsteady as I unlock the door and slip inside, dropping my bag on the desk.

The computer takes forever to boot up. I drum my fingers on the desk, willing it to move faster. The familiar login screen appears, and I type in my credentials, mistyping twice in my rush.

---