Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Imogene
The harsh light from the hallway sliced into the darkness of the room like a dagger. It should have been a welcome sight after the confusion of the past few minutes. But nothing could have prepared me for this, to be staring at the man who I thought was trying to help me. Keep me safe.
I should have known after his questions at the hospital he wasn’t to be trusted. I convinced myself I was just overreacting.
But as I stared at the amused grin tugging on Agent Myers’ lips, making him look nothing like the FBI agent I thought him to be, I knew I should have trusted my gut back then.
“Good evening, Ms. Prescott,” Myers said, his voice as smooth as glass.
I pressed my back against the wall, my heart pounding so hard I felt it in my throat.
“How are you finding your accommodations?”
He adjusted his glasses with an air of casual arrogance. As if he was paying me a visit at my house. Not holding me captive in this dark, windowless room.
“What do you want?” I managed, my voice raw and trembling.
He tilted his head to the side. Then a slow smile spread across his face, the kind of smile you might give a child who asked a na?ve question.
“What an excellent place to start.”
He took another step closer, and I flinched before I could stop myself. He noticed, of course, and his grin only grew wider. As if he got off on my fear.
He probably did.
“The complexity of human nature has always intrigued me. What makes people tick? What pushes them to do the unthinkable? What breaks them?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retorted.
“You will soon enough.”
He paced in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.
“Your father was a fascinating case study. We studied serial killers extensively at the academy, but your father was unique. His ability to manipulate others into taking their own lives without pulling the trigger himself. It was almost…admirable. Was he shaped by his environment? Or was it simply…in his blood?” He stopped and turned to me, his sharp gaze piercing. “And that’s where you come in.”
“Me?” An icy chill ran down my spine.
“Of course. The daughter of a notorious killer, yet here you are…a caregiver. Or is it just an act? A mask you wear to convince the world, and yourself, that you’re different?”
“I’m nothing like him.” I tightened my hands into fists.
“How can you be sure?” His tone was eerily calm, but there was a glint of something in his eyes that made my stomach churn. “You’ve never been pushed to your limits. Never had to make the kind of choices that reveal who you truly are. That’s why you’re here. So we can find out together.”
“You won’t be finding out anything. I’m not playing your twisted games.”
He chuckled softly, shaking his head like a teacher amused by a defiant student. “Oh, but you already are. You’re not the first one, either. You see, I’ve spent years perfecting this. Creating environments where people reveal their true selves. Testing the limits of human nature.”
He moved to the corner of the room, running his fingers along the tally marks etched into the wall.
“Do you know what these represent?” he asked, not looking at me. “Each mark signifies a choice, a moment when someone realized they were capable of crossing a line they never thought possible. Killing. Betraying. Surviving. It’s astonishing, really.”
“You’re sick,” I spat, swallowing down the bile in my throat.
He ignored my remark, turning back toward me with an almost fatherly smile. “This was once Samuel’s cell.”
My heart lurched at the mention of his name.
“And those marks… They represent each time he took a life.”
I slowly shifted my gaze to the tally marks, seeing them in a completely new light now that I knew who made them. There were dozens, infinitely more than the lives my father took.
But he wasn’t my father. This was different.
“And that was just when he was at this facility. There are even more at my other compounds.”
“He didn’t have a choice.”
“Everyone has a choice,” he countered with an expression of superiority. “I didn’t even have to push that hard. He adapted so quickly, became exactly what he needed to be. A fighter. A survivor. A killer.” His words hung in the air, echoing around me.
“And now,” he continued, stepping closer, “I’m curious to see if the same potential lies in you. Will you rise above your father’s legacy? Or will you embrace it?”
“You’ll never find out,” I snarled, glaring at him with all the defiance I could muster.
“We’ll see,” he taunted as he walked toward the door. “Everyone has their breaking point. Or perhaps I should say weakness. And I know exactly what yours is.”
He leveled me with a sinister smile, leaving me speechless.
Then the door swung shut, plunging me back into darkness.