Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BELLATRIX
“Ithink he likes you.”
I peered through the slot in the door, following the sound of the voice until my glare hinged on a face.
Dark eyes, darker hair that was graying at the sides, a square jawline, and clenched teeth that looked unnatural when they smiled.
Like they didn’t know how to do it or at the very least didn’t do it often.
“Has a funny way of showing it…” I muttered.
“Don’t we all?” Dr. Adrian Lambert shrugged a single shoulder, his hands clamped behind his back and his glasses propped low on his nose as he eyed me over the thick, black brim.
I doubted a surgeon of his caliber needed to wear them.
Probably had more to do with the look he was trying to portray.
A weird combination of studious and sadistic.
Fucker nailed it.
He twirled a hand in the air, and the lights in the hallway flicked on one at a time. His white jacket fluttering behind him, his large giant-shaped shadow a step behind that as they both approached the door.
I didn’t know how long they’d been standing there, but I had a feeling it was much longer than the good doctor was willing to let on. Definitely long enough to see me choke his guy out and do nothing to stop it.
As if reading my mind, Adrian glanced at where that same guy was now slumped against the door with a crushed windpipe. He still wasn’t dead, though. I could hear him wheezing. But he would be soon, if someone didn’t reinforce his airway.
Adrian waved a hand again. And without question, his Hulk-shaped bodyguard grabbed Casper by the wrist, lifted him off the ground, and tossed him over a shoulder before turning and clomping back down the hallway. Alone.
“Casper is different from the others.” Adrian waited until they were out of earshot, his lips curling into a grin as he returned his focus to me.
“I used to think it stemmed from an attachment disorder developed during the time he spent here at Briarwood—you know, before I took over and implemented those much-needed changes. He was young, but too old for me to undo the damage that had already been done.”
Adrian sighed. Dramatic and unnecessary. But obviously meant to exaggerate his little story time.
“I assumed the behavior was irreversible. His lack of loyalty to anyone but himself. His inability to empathize and integrate with those around him while simultaneously feeding off the attention they offered him. Disregard for societal norms, learned or otherwise. Sociopathic tendencies and a lack of fear that likely had something to do with his dormant pain receptors.” Another shrug.
“But then, here you are. It’s fascinating, really.
A case study on how spontaneous infatuation can stimulate the anterior insular cortex, regenerate synapses, and cause new connections to form. ”
He paused, clearly lost to the psychobabble spewing out of his mouth like a textbook with legs. Shook his head and shoved a hand into his pocket. When he pulled it out again, he had a key pinched between two fingers. He held it out in front of me.
“You would think it would be a superpower. The ability to kill without thought, without the weight of guilt, without the fear of being caught. And I guess, in some ways, it is. But it also comes with its pitfalls.”
I kept the key in my sight while Adrian kept it just out of my reach. The man liked to hear himself talk.
“The unfortunate consequence is the subject’s failure to accurately predict human behavior. To know how the other party’s past experiences will shape their future decision-making. How those decisions can be impacted by attachment—perceived or otherwise.”
He extended the key until it brushed my fingertips before pulling it back again when my eyes accidentally flicked to the ground. Adrian followed my line of sight. Sighing as he plucked my backpack up by the tab on top and quickly slung the strap over his shoulder.
“Ah, right. You have a ticking clock, don’t you, Miss Doucette? Let me guess…” He clicked his tongue. “Type 1 diabetes mellitus, further complicated by Gelineau syndrome.”
I kept my expression neutral, but it didn’t stop him from knowing he was right. The way his face lit up told me he knew it too.
“Hate to admit it but it took me years to figure that one out. That’s the problem with comorbidities, everyone looking for the simplest solution. One disorder, one name. When it can be much more complex than that.”
He stepped forward, extending his arm for a second time. But I knew better than to reach for the key. He was taunting me. He wanted me to want it. Expected me to beg or bargain. I planned to do neither.
“Complex, like having to choose between the boy you saved. Raised like a son. Taught to crawl, walk and finally run. Jump, flip, kill. And the girl who saved you. Who gave you a second chance to become the man you are today with a wife, a thriving business, a baby…”
That last one was news to me. But I didn’t care to ask about it so that the fucker could then go on to lecture me about human reproduction. Thanks but I already knew the basics.
Adrian threw out an arm and gestured in front of him, then slowly placed the key on the palm of my hand. Curling my fingers around the cold metal and holding my wrist in place before I could yank it away.
“It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?” he hummed.
“Hilarious,” I grunted.
He laughed and released my arm. Tucking his hands back into his pockets and pivoting on his fancy shoes.
“It was nice seeing you again, Trixie. Oh, and don’t worry about returning the key.
I have several copies,” he threw over a shoulder, not bothering to look my way as he disappeared into the shadows he’d emerged from.
Then the lights flicked off one at a time, in reverse, until I was shrouded in darkness.