"Maybe he is better," I defend, though I don't believe it.
"Look at his hands," Alaric instructs.
I look. Julian’s hands are clenched on his knees. His knuckles are white. He is picking at the cuticle of his thumb until it bleeds.Micro-expressions.Leakage.
"He is terrified," Alaric narrates. "He is lying because he is afraid of the truth. And do you know what we do with liars in Hallowed Halls, Elodie?"
"You drug them?"
"No. We break the script."
Alaric presses a button on the console in front of us. Inside the room, a loud, jarring buzzer sounds. Julian jumps, letting out a yelp.
Dr. Sterling doesn't flinch. She looks at the mirror—at us—and nods. She opens a folder. "Julian," she says, her voice cold. "We found the phone."
Julian freezes. The color drains from his face. "What... what phone?"
"The burner phone you paid the night janitor to smuggle in," she says. "We found it in your mattress. We saw the betting apps. You lost forty thousand dollars last night. From inside this facility."
Julian starts to shake. "No. No, that's not mine. You planted it!"
"Denial," Alaric murmurs beside me. "Predictable."
"It's a violation!" Julian screams, standing up. He kicks the chair back. "I want my lawyer! I want out of this freak show!"
"And now... the Rage," Alaric says.
Inside the room, two large orderlies enter instantly. They don't attack Julian. They just stand there. Walls of muscle. Julian collapses. He falls to his knees, sobbing. "Please," he begs. "Please don't put me in the Quiet Room. Please. I'll be good."
Alaric presses the button on the console again. "Dr. Sterling," his voice booms into the room, magnified by the speakers. Julian looks up at the ceiling, terror in his eyes. He knows the Voice of God.
"Yes, Director?" Dr. Sterling answers.
"Reset him," Alaric commands. "Level 1 protocols. Total isolation. No privileges. And remove the comfort items from his room."
"No!" Julian screams as the orderlies grab him. "No, please! Dr. Graves! I'm sorry!"
They drag him out. The door closes. The room is empty.
I turn to Alaric, horror churning in my gut. "That was cruel," I whisper. "He's sick. He’s an addict."
"He is a contagion," Alaric counters calmly. "He corrupted my staff. He broke the rules. He tried to play the game instead of doing the work."
He turns to me, his silver eyes locking onto mine. "I showed you that because I see the same calculation in your eyes, Elodie."
My heart stops. "I'm not like him."
"Aren't you?" He steps closer, backing me against the console. "You are eating my food. You are wearing the clothes I gave you. You are sleeping in my bed without screaming. You areperformingcompliance."
He places his hands on the console on either side of me, trapping me. "You think if you play the 'Good Girl', if you don't fight, I will eventually lower my guard. You think you can wait me out."
He leans down, his nose brushing mine. "But Julian made a mistake. He tried to hide his sickness. I don't want you to hide yours, Elodie. I want you to show it to me."
"I don't have a sickness," I hiss. "I have a captor."
"We'll see." He grabs my hand—the one with the bite mark—and pulls me toward the door. "Come. It's your turn."
We walk to a different room.THERAPY SUITE A. It is luxurious. Leather couches, soft lighting, a wall of books. It looks like a library, not a medical facility. But in the center of the room, there is a metronome on a small table. And a single chair.
