Chapter 6

By the time Elena pulled into the lot behind Saint Ridge Penitentiary, her nerves were coiled tighter than yesterday. Her fingers tapped a restless beat against the steering wheel, the air inside the car thick with her breath. Each visit left a weight on her chest that didn’t lift until she drove away again and lately, it wasn’t lifting at all.

The guards recognized her now. No longer just the young intern with a clipboard and nerves in her throat. They nodded without much thought, buzzed her in, and escorted her down the gray halls. The metal doors groaned open like something ancient and unwilling.

He was already seated inside.

Cain Maddox looked the same. Relaxed, almost lazy, one ankle balanced over his knee, arms resting on the sides of the chair like a man lounging on a throne. But his eyes locked onto her the moment she entered. As if he’d been waiting.

“Elena Hart,” he drawled. “My week just got better.”

She gave him a measured look, brushing past the subtle twist in her stomach. “Good morning, Cain.”

“That depends.” He leaned forward slightly. “Are we talking truths again today? Or just pretending we’re both here for the paperwork?”

She sat down slowly, opening her notebook but keeping her eyes on him. “You agreed to speak with me. I’m just following through.”

His gaze flicked to the notebook, then back to her. “You know,” he said, voice low, “this whole thing would be more interesting if it went both ways.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

Cain smiled, and it wasn’t gentle. “You ask me things dig into my past, my mind, my pain. But you sit there with all your walls up. Your questions are knives. But you never bleed.”

“I’m not the subject here.”

He tilted his head. “Aren’t you?”

Elena hesitated.

Cain leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, voice quieter now. “Let’s make a deal, sweetheart. You ask me one question. I answer. Then I ask one. You answer.”

“That’s not how interviews work,” she said, trying to stay firm.

He gave her a slow, dangerous smile. “Then stop calling it an interview.”

Her pulse jumped. “If I agree, you answer honestly?”

“I’ll answer as honestly as you do.”

She hated how much she wanted to say yes.

“One for one,” she said finally.

“Good.” His voice dropped like a hook. “Your turn.”

Elena swallowed. “Tell me what you felt the night you killed him. The exact moment.”

Cain didn’t flinch. “Peace,” he said simply. “It was the first time in two years I felt like I could breathe. Not rage. Not fear. Just silence. He begged. I didn’t listen.”

Her fingers tightened around the pen, but she nodded.

His turn.

“Why do you care?” he asked. “Why me?”

“I already told you,” she said.

“No,” he said. “That was the answer for your professor. I want the real one. Why do you, Elena Hart, keep showing up to look a murderer in the eyes.”

She hesitated, the silence stretching. Cain didn’t look away.

“Because when you speak,” she said slowly, “I hear something I understand. Something I’ve tried to bury.”

A flicker passed through his expression. Satisfaction? Interest? She couldn’t tell.

“Your turn,” he said, voice quieter now.

Elena looked down at her notes. “Do you regret not doing it sooner?”

Cain laughed under his breath. “Every day. Regret is a funny thing, though. I don’t regret what I did. Just that I waited.”

She nodded once.

“My turn,” he said again. “Who hurt you?”

The question hit her like a slap.

She blinked. “What?”

“You flinch when people get too close,” he said. “I see it. You hide behind those sharp words and pretty theories, but you’ve got ghosts. Who put them there?”

“I’m not here to talk about….”

“It’s a fair trade,” he said. “One for one.”

She drew in a breath, slow and thin. “My mother,” she said eventually. “In ways that don’t bruise skin, but dig deeper.”

Cain’s jaw tensed, but he nodded. “People like that… they’re harder to hate. Because they leave no proof.”

Her eyes met his.

“Next question,” she said, voice quieter now. “Did you ever think about what would’ve happened if you’d gone to the police instead of taking justice into your own hands?”

He shrugged. “They wouldn’t have done a damn thing. They didn’t before. That bastard walked free for weeks. Do you know what that does to a person? Waiting? Watching? Knowing?”

Her throat closed. She didn’t push him further.

Cain shifted closer, eyes darker now. “My turn.”

She waited.

“What do you dream about, Elena?”

The question caught her off guard. She blinked again, her breath catching. “Why does that matter?”

“Because it tells me if you’re still hoping. Or if you’ve already broken.”

She looked away. “I don’t remember my dreams.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t…”

“Lies,” he said again, gently this time. “You wake up remembering just enough to ache.”

Her hands tightened in her lap.

Cain leaned in even closer, and now there was nothing casual about his voice. “You dream of someone seeing you, don’t you? All of you. The parts you keep buried. You want someone to understand. To hurt where you hurt.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

“Stop it,” she whispered.

He tilted his head, voice like smoke. “It’s not wrong to want that. But be careful who you want it from.”

The silence between them crackled. Heavy. Heated.

Elena stood, her notebook forgotten. “This session is over.”

Cain didn’t stop her. Just watched her, eyes unreadable.

She reached the door, hand on the handle, breath shallow.

“Elena,” he said behind her.

She turned halfway.

“You said this was the last one for the week.”

She nodded once.

“Then let me give you something to think about.”

She waited.

Cain stood slowly, stepping just close enough that the space between them tensed like a live wire.

“You think you’re here to study me,” he said softly. “But what if I’m the only one who sees you clearly?”

She stared at him, throat dry, skin flushed.

Then he whispered, “And what if that terrifies you more than anything I’ve ever done?”

Elena turned and left before her knees could give out.

She didn’t see the guard on her way out. Didn’t feel the wind against her face. Didn’t hear the door slam shut behind her.

All she felt was Cain Maddox still inside her head.

And this time, he wasn’t leaving.