The law of continuity is used to explore the progression of a person’s mental functioning. As our thoughts and actions are connected, over time, our feelings and behaviors follow consistent patterns.
Like how our childhood influences our adult behaviors, or the way wereact to certain situations that reflect underlying personality traits and past traumas.
Before the Reaper killings began, there was an inciting incident in a brilliant man’s life that altered him, setting off a lethal chain of events that all emerged into a larger pattern.
One of a serial killer.
A shiver whispers up the column of my spine, and I sense the moment his eyes settle on me. I can always feel when Orion is watching, sensing the unflinching intensity of his eyes roving over my body.
It’s the primal pull of predator and prey, that instinctual awareness of lurking danger.
Tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, I glance through the stone arches toward the parking lot, and my gaze collides with his.
Orion leans against his motorcycle, arms folded across his chest. Even from this distance, I can see the lift of his mouth, one corner pulled slightly higher, betraying his guarded expression like a splinter of light breaking the night.
My pulse quickens as a flush of heat ignites beneath my skin. Even as I succumb to his undeniable charm, I never forget the threat hidden behind that deceptive beauty.
His cunning, meticulous nature. The dark compulsions of his personality. These characteristics are evident in the fitted gloves he never removes, the obsessive drive for perfection, the fixation on his research.
And yet, I’ve glimpsed tiny cracks in his controlled exterior. Hints of instability, of vulnerability, flashes of reckless impulse. There’s an undercurrent of pain that flares behind his high, stony walls, revealing something fractured at his core, something damaged. At times, it can hurt to simply look at Orion, as if no matter how desperately he tries, he can never be whole, unbroken.
It’s because of this contradiction that he’s unlike other predators of his kind.
He has an expiration date.
The clocktower chimes, and as my hunter is drawn away, I close my book and rise from the bench. I slip beneath the arches of the colonnade, sensing a ripple of tension even before Dr. Banner steps into view.
He strides toward me, movements as brisk as his tone. “Dr. Holbrook, a word.”
Despite the unease threading my nerves, I fix a smile into place. Unfortunately, I know what he wants to discuss.
Since I arrived, I’ve mediated squabbles over stolen lunches. Counseled faculty through depression and burnout. Tending to just about every faculty member hereexceptOrion.
“I’m sure you’ve already heard about last night’s unveiling,” Banner says. At my hesitation, he adds, “The particle accelerator…the initial test run for the donors.”
“Right.” I nod, brightening my smile. “I trust everything went well.”
He exhales, shoulders sagging. “No. In fact”—his gaze narrows—“it appears someone tampered with the control software. There was an override, causing the system to fail the moment Dr. Prescott powered it on.”
Dammit, Orion.
My climbing heart rate pulses in my ears. “That’s unfortunate?—”
“Unfortunate doesn’t cover it.” He gives a short, humorless laugh. “This stunt not only cost the university financially, it puts our research at risk. We just… We can’t sustain any more setbacks.”
Like always, I feel the instant his eyes find me. My gaze flicks to the far end of the walkway where Orion lurks, shoulder braced against an angelic statue, helmet gripped in his hand, fingers tapping. He observes our exchange intently, making no attempt to conceal his interest as his mouth slants into a smoldering smile.
My hold tightens around the steel handle of the umbrella, the one he gave me to shelter from the storm. I recall him standing before me in the rain. Imposing. Striking. Protective in a way that felt possessive.
When the female firefly lies in wait, she’s not merely waiting to be impressed; she’s studying her suitor. Learning his flash patterns. Deciphering his intent in his signals.
And Orion’s signals are too damn erratic. Unless sabotaging the instrument had a deeper purpose, his rash behavior doesn’t align with the meticulous predator I’ve spent years profiling.
“Dr. Holbrook,” Banner says, regaining my attention. “I need to know how much longer this evaluation period will take. It’s been nearly three weeks already.”
Drawing my hands together, I rub my thumb over the faint pulse in my wrist. “I’ve already implemented safety measures and completed the protocols with Dr. Prescott for the symposium,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “Has there been any progress in relocating the research team from the main observatory?”
“Unfortunately, the board isn’t too eager to make changes.” He adjusts his stance, exhaling audibly. “Let me be candid with you. Dr. Night has potentially discovered something groundbreaking in his research, something that could put Stonehurst on the map. The board feels relocating Dr. Prescott from the observatory isn’t ideal.”
