Chapter 17 Katana
Katana
I haven’t seen Micah all day. Not at breakfast. Not during our free time in the morning. Not even lurking in the cafeteria at dinner with that unnerving way of looking straight through me.
It shouldn’t matter. It should feel like relief. Instead, the not-knowing gnaws at me, making my stomach twist and my nerves prickle.
During free time, I tell Marcy I’m not feeling well and I need to lie down. She eyes me like she doesn’t quite believe me, but finally nods, snapping, “Straight to your room, Katana. No wandering the halls.”
I nod, keeping my face as blank as I can manage. The second she’s gone, I move.
My pulse pounds as I slip down the corridor, counting doors, keeping my head down. Every step feels like it echoes too loudly in the sterile hallway, the fluorescent lights glaring judgment from above.
I stop in front of his door. My throat is so dry I can hardly swallow.
The little rectangle of reinforced glass is at eye level. I press forward, just enough to see.
The breath leaves me.
Micah’s on his bed, but he doesn’t look like the stoic, untouchable monster everyone whispers about.
His body twitches, sharp and involuntary, like he’s fighting something that isn’t there.
When the blanket slips, I see the angry welts across his wrists, his chest, even his arms. Fresh scars, raw and red.
He’s in pain. Real pain.
The sight shocks me in a way I can’t explain. My heart squeezes, torn between fear and something dangerously close to sympathy.
I should walk away. Pretend I didn’t see him.
But I can’t.
Before I know it, my fingers are shaking as I slide the keycard I stole from Marcy’s pocket against the lock. The light blinks. The door clicks open.
I slip inside, closing it quickly behind me, my chest tight. The air in his room is heavy with the smell of antiseptic and sweat.
He doesn’t stir at first, just twitches again, his jaw clenching. I move closer, my heart thudding. My hand hovers over him, uncertain, trembling.
Up close, the welts and scars are worse. Precise. Deliberate. The smell of charred flesh infiltrates my nose. This was no accident.
Someone did this to him.
A chill races down my spine.
I shouldn’t be here. But I am. And I can’t look away.
My hand hovers, then lowers, brushing the welt at his wrist. His skin is hot, fever-warm, and the contact makes my chest tighten.
His eyes snap open.
A sharp gasp tears from me. I stumble back, my spine pressing into the wall. He doesn’t move right away, just lies there, his eyes locked on mine, black and bottomless.
“How,” his voice is raw and low, “did you get in here?”
My mouth goes dry. The truth tangles on my tongue. “I… I was worried.”
A slow, dangerous smile creeps over his lips. He slowly pushes himself upright, his muscles tense, the marks on his chest stark under the harsh light. “You were worried about me?”
Heat climbs up my throat. “You’re hurt. Someone… Someone did this to you.”
His laugh is soft, humorless, and it makes my skin prickle. “And you came in anyway. Even knowing what I am.”
I should deny it. I should run.
Instead, the words slip out in a whisper. “I had to.”
He stands. Every inch of him radiates power, the kind of presence that makes the air too thick to breathe. He closes the space between us. I press myself against the wall, knowing I can’t escape him.
His head tilts, studying me like I’m prey that wandered willingly into the predator’s den. “You broke into my room, little murderess. Do you know what that means?”
My knees tremble, but I lift my chin, holding his gaze. “That I’m not afraid of you.”
His hand lifts, the backs of his knuckles grazing my cheek the way they did outside. But this time, there’s no one watching. His touch lingers, slow and claiming.
“You should be.” His whisper is molten steel. “But I like that you’re not.”
The key card slips from my sweaty palm and clatters to the floor. The sound snaps me from the spell. My ragged breath rushes out of me. “I—I should go.”
His smile widens, dark and knowing, as he leans just close enough that I feel his breath against my ear. “Next time you sneak in, Katana… you won’t leave so easily.”
I swallow hard, willing my feet to move. But they’re rooted to the floor.
“W-Who did this to you?”
He cocks his head, and it reminds me of my favorite horror movie villain, Michael Myers.
He doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me with those dark, penetrating eyes, like he’s picking me apart, revealing all my secrets, fears, and weaknesses.
It hits me as I stare at him. “V-Vale. He did this to you.” I say it like a statement, not a question.
He remains silent, but I saw the slight tightening of his jaw as soon as I mentioned Vale’s name.
Unable to resist the allure of his bare chest, my fingers trace the uninjured skin. He stares at me, desire burning in his eyes. Instead of being scared that the emotionless “ice monster” is showing emotion, it emboldens me.
My lips part, a shaky breath slipping out. My eyes are locked with his as my fingers move to one of the scars, gently touching it. His jaw tightens, and he hisses.
“Am I hurting you?”
“Not in the way you think.”
My breathing increases, and so does his. I glance down, staring at his heaving chest, desire coursing through me. I’ve never wanted anyone… until him. After all that has happened to me, I didn’t think I was capable of feeling… this.
“Little murderess,” he practically purrs the nickname. It’s a painfully seductive sound. “You better stop touching me. Before I do something neither of us can stop.”
I freeze. His words repeat inside my mind, but I’m not scared of him. I want him. But I’m scared of causing him more pain than he’s already feeling. And if we get caught, both of us will be in trouble.
Would Vale do to me what he did to Micah?
Fear makes my fingers tremble before I pull them away.
“I won’t let him hurt you, Katana.” His voice is firm, eyes full of a darkness I’ve never witnessed before. For a minute, I wonder if that’s how I looked before I stabbed Ted.
In the distance, a clipboard clatters to the floor, followed by hurried footsteps. Panic spikes in my chest. If anyone finds me in here—
I push past him, snatching the keycard with trembling fingers, my pulse roaring in my ears. I don’t look back as I open his door.
“This is only the beginning,” he whispers, the words sliding into my bones like a brand.
Against every instinct screaming at me to run, I turn.
He smirks at me, his eyes blazing with promise. Danger and desire twined together in their depths.
I flee, but the burn of his stare follows me all the way back to my room.