Chapter one

The early morning air was crisp, biting at Elena’s cheeks as she crossed the university campus. Her boots clicked across the cobblestone path, a steady rhythm under the muffled chatter of students rushing to class. In her hand, she clutched a steaming cup of overpriced coffee, an attempt to chase away the nerves crawling up her spine.

Today, she will receive her final internship placement. The assignment that would decide her future.

Criminal Psychology had always been her world, her passion, and her rebellion. While her peers were preparing for corporate jobs or internships in forensic labs, Elena had requested something different. Something real.

And something real was exactly what she got.

Professor Lansing’s office door stood ajar when she reached it, the warm light spilling into the hallway like a welcome mat. She stepped inside, greeted by the familiar scent of old books and bitter espresso.

He looked up from his desk, gray eyes unreadable behind thick glasses. A manila folder sat at the edge of the table thicker than the others she’d seen other students walk out with.

“Elena,” he said, gesturing to the seat opposite him. “Sit.”

She did, trying to calm the racing of her heart.

“You’re one of my top students,” he began. “Smart. Composed. Methodical. That’s why I fought to give you this case. But I need to be clear it’s not like anything you’ve dealt with before.”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “Is that your way of saying it’s dangerous?”

His lips twitched, almost amused. “In a way. Dangerous mentally, emotionally… maybe more. You asked for real, and this is as real as it gets.”

He slid the folder toward her.

“Cain Maddox,” he said.

The name echoed in her mind as she opened the folder. A grainy black-and-white photograph was stapled to the first page. A man stared back at her early thirties, square jaw, short dark hair, and the coldest pair of gray eyes she’d ever seen.

She couldn’t look away.

“Convicted at nineteen,” Lansing said. “For the murder of a man named Gregory Holt. Cain claimed the man raped and murdered his younger sister. The prosecution argued there wasn’t enough evidence against Holt to justify the killing.”

Elena flipped through the pages. Crime scene photos. Autopsy reports. A transcript of Cain’s brief, defiant testimony.

“He confessed?”

Lansing nodded. “Said he’d do it again. He’s served fourteen years. This is his final year before release.”

“And I’m supposed to… evaluate him?”

“Profile him. Dig into his psyche. See what’s left after a decade and a half behind bars. No one’s been able to get through to him. He refuses all therapy. All interviews. But he agreed to speak with a student for academic purposes on the condition that the sessions are one-on-one and not recorded.”

Elena blinked. “That’s… unusual.”

“That’s Cain Maddox.”

She studied the photograph again. There was no emotion on his face, no anger, no regret. Just a steady, dispassionate stare. As if the world no longer interested him.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

Lansing raised an eyebrow. “No hesitation?”

“I asked for real. He’s real.”

He gave a short nod. “You’ll begin tomorrow. Three times a week, for three months. Maximum security. Level Four. They’ve agreed to give you a private room for the interviews.”

She closed the folder and rose to her feet, suppressing the flutter in her stomach. Excitement. Fear. Curiosity.

“Be careful, Elena,” Lansing said. “You might think you’re going in to study him but men like Cain? They study you right back.”

Elena managed a small nod, clutching the file tighter to her chest as she stood. The weight of his words lingered behind her as she stepped out of his office and into the hallway. The door clicked shut with an unsettling finality, the echo following her like a shadow.

The corridor felt colder now.

Her heels tapped against the polished tile as she walked, her mind drifting into dangerous territory. What would tomorrow bring? Would he speak? Would he ignore her? Would he try to intimidate her?

Or worse?

She shook her head, trying to push away the thought. But the fear clung to her like static, refusing to be brushed off. Cain Maddox wasn’t just another case study. He was real, unpredictable, and dangerous. A man who had taken justice into his own hands and never once denied it.

What if he snaps?

What if he sees you as weak?

What if…

“Stop,” she muttered under her breath, more firmly than she expected.

She was doing this for herself, for her career, for everything she had fought to become. She couldn’t let her nerves ruin that now. She was Elena Hart, top of her class, fully capable, and far from naive.

Still… her stomach twisted.

She glanced down at the file in her arms, as if it might whisper something back to her. His photo peeked out from behind a stapled page, those same cold gray eyes boring into hers.

A shiver crawled down her spine.

By the time she reached the administrative building, the sunlight was filtering in with a weak glow, casting long golden slants across the tiled floor. The scent of fresh ink and paper filled the air.

Back to routine, she told herself.

She had one more task to complete for the day clearance forms. With graduation around the corner, the university required all final-year students to complete a checklist of signatures confirming they were done with lectures, library debts, lab fees, and so on.

At least this part was predictable.

The first office was the Student Services Center. The attendant behind the desk barely looked up before sliding a clipboard toward her. Elena filled in her details quickly, the muscles in her hand still tense from gripping Cain’s file so tightly.

“Thank you. Next?” she asked.

“Library,” the woman said with a disinterested yawn.

Elena turned on her heel and made her way across campus, her mind still flickering back to Cain. Each signature felt like a countdown. Each completed form another step closer to the prison gates.

The librarian greeted her with a polite smile and a quiet, “No overdue books. You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” Elena murmured, even though her thoughts were already racing ahead.

Two more offices: the faculty department and finance. At both, the process was the same. show her student ID, get a signature, smile politely, and move on. But each conversation felt muffled, like she was underwater.

In her mind, she was already there. Sitting across from him. Breathing the same air. Watching his every movement.

Would he lean forward, speak in a low voice meant to unnerve her? Would he smirk at her discomfort? Or say nothing at all?

She exhaled sharply, trying to clear the image.

Finally, she reached the last office. Academic Records. A small, glass-walled room tucked beside the registrar’s department. A cheerful assistant took her forms and gave them a quick scan.

“All set,” she said, scribbling the last signature at the bottom. “You’re officially cleared, Elena. Congrats.”

Elena smiled faintly and tucked the forms into her bag.

But as she stepped out into the sunlit corridor, her heart was somewhere else entirely locked behind concrete walls, waiting for tomorrow.

****

That night, Elena lay in bed, her room dim except for the glow of her desk lamp. The folder lay open beside her, the photograph staring up at her like a silent dare.

She ran her finger along the edge of the page, tracing the outline of Cain’s jaw. His file was clinical, cold facts, dates, sentences. But there was something beneath it all that unsettled her.

She tried to picture the moment he killed Holt. Did he scream? Cry? Did he feel anything at all?

Elena knew what her parents would say if they found out.

“You’re wasting your time,” her mother would snap. “You're meant for better things, Elena.”

Her father would just sign and return to his scotch.

But Elena had never been interested in “better things.” She didn’t want cocktail parties and gallery openings. She wanted answers. She wanted to crack people open and see what made them burn.

She picked up the photograph again, her voice a whisper in the stillness.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding, Cain Maddox.”