24. Axel
24
AXEL
T he pitch-black wraps around me like an old friend, but today, it feels different—oppressive. This time, they’ve given me the special treatment—total darkness, a particular hell reserved for those the guards want to break. The soul-crushing absence of light weighs heavily with each passing hour, a deliberate torture that most in solitary don’t endure. My fingers trace the rough surface of the walls, finding the grooves where countless others have marked their time in this heightened punishment.
I know why they’ve done this—to teach me a lesson after what happened with Marcus. The warden wants me to understand there are consequences, even for someone like me. The darkness is meant to disorient me, strip away my sense of time and self, and remind me of my powerlessness within these walls.
If I had to wage a bet, I’d bet good money that Marcus was behind the murders. My killer instinct howls for his blood, a symphony of rage demanding vengeance. It wants me to tear him apart, make him suffer like those bodies they found. But that’s not my style anymore—too messy, too obvious.
Kill him slowly.
Make him watch as we destroy everything he loves.
Rip his throat out.
Paint the walls red!
I press my palms against my temples. The cacophony builds until my skull feels ready to split. But then...
Willow.
I close my eyes and picture her face, remembering how those blue eyes darkened, how her lips parted when I touched her, and how she fought against her own nature even as she surrendered to me.
My Willow is so desperate to be good while craving everything bad.
When I think of her, the chaos in my mind settles into order, as always. It recognizes something in her that mirrors my soul—a kindred spirit wrapped in an innocent package.
She’s ours.
Protect what’s ours.
My breathing steadies as calm washes over me. Marcus may have put me in here, but he has no idea what he’s unleashed. I’ll make him regret trying to come between me and what belongs to me.
The abyss doesn’t feel so suffocating anymore. It’s familiar territory, where I can think clearly and plan. And plan I will.
The concrete walls blur as my mind drifts, clearer than ever. Each inhale brings fresh clarity, like emerging from murky waters into crisp mountain air. I map Marcus’s routines—his workout schedule, meal times, and the guards he’s bought. Every detail slots into place like puzzle pieces.
Then, her face appears. Willow, stretched out on a beach somewhere, hair catching golden sunlight. There are no prison walls, no boundaries between us, only warmth and freedom. The image shifts to a cabin in dense woods where no one can find us. Her laughter echoes through the trees.
Interesting.
She could be our anchor.
The fantasy shatters as Thompson slides my lunch tray through the slot. His voice drops low. “Marcus’s been asking about your doctor. Had his guys timing her arrivals, watching which entrance she uses.”
My blood turns to ice. The voices explode into a frenzy of rage, drowning out everything else.
KILL HIM!
TEAR HIS EYES OUT FOR DARING TO LOOK AT HER!
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 the folder 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 little game. 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.
“Turn around,” I purr against her ear.
She obeys immediately, her palms pressing flat against the cold concrete wall. I kick her feet apart, positioning her. The dim light from the tiny window catches only the curve of her cheek and the arch of her back as she presents herself to me.
I free myself from my prison clothes, then hike up her skirt. The blackness of solitary means I’m relying on touch alone. When I find her soaking wet cunt, she gasps softly. Fuck. She’s already drenched.
“Axel, please,” she whimpers, voice echoing in the small space.
I press my chest against her back, pinning her to the wall. “You came here for this, didn’t you? Couldn’t stay away.”
Her answer is a desperate moan as I thrust into her with one powerful stroke. I feel her clamp around me. Without sight, everything intensifies—the slick grip of her body and the sweet-salt scent of her skin.
I set a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving her harder against the wall. Her gasps synchronize with my movements, creating a primal soundtrack that bounces off the concrete. Without seeing her face clearly, I focus on how she clenches around me and how her breathing catches when I hit the right spot.
“Mine,” I grunt into her hair, one hand wrapping around her throat while the other grips her hip hard enough to bruise.
Being in complete darkness makes her feel more like a part of me than ever. We are just two bodies moving together without boundaries, prison walls, or rules.
I lean forward, teeth grazing her ear. “Tell me how much you fucking missed me, little pixie. It’s been a day, but I bet you were dripping just thinking about me.”
Her back arches as I thrust deeper.
“I couldn’t—ah—couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she gasps, voice breaking with each thrust. “During meetings, I felt you inside me, remembered how you filled me.”
My grip tightens around her throat, just enough pressure to make her gasp. “Your tight little cunt belongs to me. Did you touch yourself thinking about me last night?”
“Yes,” she admits, shameless now. “In the shower. Pretended it was your fingers.”
The voices in my head purr with approval. She’s ours completely.
“Such a dirty little doctor.” I slide my hand from her hip to between her legs, finding her swollen clit. “Professional on the outside and a filthy slut on the inside.”
She moans, pressing back against me. “Only for you, Axel. Nobody else sees this side of me.”
“Damn right.” I slow my pace, making her feel every inch. “What would they think if they saw their pristine Dr. Matthews begging for a psychopath’s cock? Tell me how bad you need it.”
“I need it so much it hurts,” she whimpers. “Couldn’t focus all day. Just keep remembering how you feel and how you taste. When I heard you were in solitary, all I could think about was how I could come here and see you.”
Her confession makes me throb inside her. Even separated by prison walls, I own her thoughts.
“You’re my perfect little whore,” I growl, picking up the pace again. “So proper on the outside, but you’re just as sick as I am. That’s why we fit, baby.”
“I missed how you talk to me,” she admits between gasps. “Nobody else understands what I need.”
I pick up the pace, slamming into her with enough force to make the concrete wall scrape against her palms. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, and I have to cover her mouth with my hand to keep the guards from hearing.
“If they catch you in here like this,” I state harshly against her ear, “bent over and taking my cock like the perfect little slut you are, what would happen to your career then?”
She shudders around me, her inner walls clenching tight at my words. The danger of our situation only makes her hungrier for me. I can feel her getting closer, her body tensing.
“You’re going to come for me,” I command, circling her clit faster. “Come all over my cock while I fill you up.”
My demons form a unified chorus, urging me to claim her completely. They’re not demanding blood—they want her marked, owned, and mine in every way possible.
“Axel,” she gasps. “I’m?—”
“That’s it, baby,” I praise, feeling my release building. “Come with me.”
I thrust deeper, harder, losing myself in her. When she shatters around me, I follow immediately, emptying myself inside her with a groan that echoes off the walls. For a perfect moment, there’s nothing but blinding pleasure and blessed silence in my mind.
We stay connected, panting, until reality slowly seeps back in. I reluctantly pull away, turning her to face me. Her eyes shine in the dim light, still glazed with pleasure.
“I’ll find a way to see you every day,” she straightens her clothes with trembling fingers. “I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll convince them you need daily psychological monitoring.”
I brush my thumb across her swollen lips. “My clever little doctor.”
“I mean it, Axel.” Her eyes meet mine with an intensity that surprises me. “But that’s just the beginning.”
“What are you saying?” I study her face, sensing something has shifted.
She takes a deep breath as if gathering courage. “I’m going to get you out of here. For good.”
I arch a brow, genuinely surprised. “You want to break me out? Of a maximum security prison?”
“Yes.” The certainty in her voice is absolute. “I’ve been thinking about it since before they put you in solitary. I can’t—I won’t—leave you in here to rot.”
“You’d risk everything? Your career, your freedom?” I search her face for any hesitation.
“I already am.” She kisses me softly. “I want to be with you,” she murmurs against my lips. “Not just for stolen moments in this cell.”
Fuck.
I pull back to look at her, seeing something new in those blue eyes—a darkness I’ve been nurturing, now blooming into something beautiful and dangerous.
“First, I’m going to clear you of these murders,” she continues, her mind working quickly. “The timeline is our strongest defense. You physically couldn’t have been in two places at once. I’m having Martinez pull the footage showing the continuous timeline of you being escorted to my office before the murders and not leaving until after.”
“And what about our... extracurricular activities?” I ask, curious how she plans to hide those.
“I’ve got that covered, too,” she assures me. “I’m creating altered session recordings that sound legitimate. As far as anyone will know, we spent those hours in intense therapy. The camera glitched for over two weeks before that session, so all my therapy security footage was gone.”
“And the escape?” I press, still not quite believing she’s serious.
Her eyes gleam with determination. “I’ve been studying the prison’s layout, the guard rotations. Maintenance tunnels beneath the older sections were partially sealed in the 80s. I’ve found blueprints in the archives.”
I stare at her in amazement. This isn’t just talk—she’s planning this methodically and thoroughly.
“I’m moving money too,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Setting up accounts offshore where they can’t be traced. New identities, a place for us far from here.”
The possession in her tone makes me smile. She’s becoming more like me with each encounter—more willing to break the rules, corrupt the system, and take what she wants. But now she’s also using that brilliant mind to protect what’s ours.
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” I trace my finger along her jaw.
“I have to,” she says simply. “I can’t lose you.”
Something unfamiliar stirs in my chest—not just desire or possession, but something deeper. This woman will burn her whole world to the ground for me, not out of fear or manipulation but because she chooses to.
“When?” I ask.
“Soon. I need a few more weeks to finalize everything.” Her eyes hold mine, unwavering. “Can you hold on until then?”
I pull her against me, burying my face in her hair. “For you, little pixie? I’d wait forever.”