Page 54 of Imprisoned

My fists clench until my knuckles crack. The mere thought of Marcus’s gaze on Willow makes my skin crawl. His crew thinks I’m weak, caged in here like an animal. They have no idea what my true weakness is or what lengths I’ll go to protect what’s mine.

The violence within isn’t just stirring now. It’s singing a symphony of destruction, painting vivid pictures of Marcus’s suffering. For once, I don’t fight it. Its bloodlust matches my own.

The metal springs of my cot creak as I jump to my feet. Voices echo down the corridor—familiar ones that make my pulse quicken. Through the tiny window of my cell door, I catch glimpses of blonde hair and a white lab coat.

“He needs immediate psychological evaluation,” Willow’s voice carries clearly. “We can’t just leave him in solitary without assessing his mental state.”

“Dr. Matthews, this is highly irregular.” Eleanor’s clipped tone holds a warning. “He’s in isolation pending investigation.”

“Which is exactly why we need to monitor him. Extended solitary confinement could trigger a psychotic break.”Willow keeps her voice steady.

I press closer to the door, drinking in every detail. The sharp click of their heels on concrete. The way Willow’s hands twist thefolder she’s carrying. The tight set of Eleanor’s shoulders as she tries to maintain control of her subordinate.

“This isn’t up for debate.” Eleanor stops walking, forcing Willow to face her. “The warden specifically ordered?—”

“Then I’ll go to the warden myself,” Willow says. “It’s my professional opinion that leaving a potentially unstable patient in isolation without proper monitoring violates ethical guidelines.”

“Fine.” Eleanor’s sigh is sharp with frustration. “But standard protocols apply. Full restraints, lights on, and two guards are always present.”

“Of course,” Willow agrees quickly—too quickly.

I catch Martinez’s eye as he approaches with the other guard. His slight nod confirms what I already suspect—Willow has paid him well. Once Eleanor leaves, the restraints will be loose, the lights might remain off, and the second guard might conveniently need to step away. The risk is enormous for both Willow and Martinez. Whatever she’s paid him, taking on this level of liability must be substantial.

A smile spreads across my face. She’s fighting for me, using her position and a new penchant for bribing guards to bend the rules.

The click of the lock echoes through my cell as Eleanor finally caves to Willow’s demands. Willow is getting bolder, learning to manipulate the system. Pride swells in my chest as Eleanor’s footsteps fade down the corridor.

When Willow steps inside, the fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her face. But there’s something different about her now. Gone is the nervous energy that used to radiate from her. Her movements are precise and calculated. The darkness I’ve been nurturing inside her gleams in those blue eyes.

Thompson nods before pulling the door shut. Another guard has been bought, another piece secured in our corrupt littlegame. The cameras will show nothing but a routine psych evaluation.

“Dr. Matthews.” I taste her name, watching her pupils dilate at the sound. “Come to check on my mental state?”

She takes a measured step closer. The air between us crackles with familiar tension, but there’s an edge to it now. She’s not just playing at power anymore—she’s embracing it.

Silence fills my head as I’m entranced by her transformation. From the beginning, I saw this in her: that barely hidden hunger for control. Now, she’s letting it surface, reshaping herself into something magnificent.

She’s like a drug I’ve been craving, standing there in the dim light. Those curves call to me a silent invitation I can’t ignore. Her lips find mine, and it’s like tasting forbidden fruit. She’s starving for this, needing it just as much as I do.

I groan into her mouth, my body already responding. My hands tangle in her hair, holding her in place as I devour her. She’s softer than I remember, her curves filling my hands perfectly. The kiss deepens, her tongue dancing with mine. It’s a battle of dominance that we both know I’ll win.

Her little sounds of pleasure fuel the fire inside me. I grind my hips against her, letting her feel how much I want her. Her hands explore my body, possessive and eager. I pull her closer, needing to feel all of her pressed against me.

“You’re such a good girl,” I murmur against her lips, seeking her mouth again.

She moans her response, arching into me. We’re both prisoners here, enslaved by our needs, but this moment is pure liberation.

I back her up against the wall, kissing a path down her neck. She tastes even better than I remember, sweet and sinful. My hands slide under her clothes, needing to feel her skin. She arches and writhes under my touch, begging for more.

“Please,” she begs, a plea and a prayer all at once.

I chuckle, dark and possessive. “Please, what, baby? Tell me what you want.”

Her eyes, hazy with need, lock with mine. “You know what I want, Axel.”

Do I ever. But hearing her say it out loud, that’s power. I continue my slow exploration of her body. My lips, my tongue, my teeth—they all mark her. She’s mine, and I want her to know it.

I don’t waste another second with words. My hands are already pulling off her clothes. The pitch-black solitary wraps around us like a cocoon, hiding her from everything but my touch. My senses heighten in the shadows—her gasps louder, her skin softer beneath my fingertips.

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