Addicted (M)

Chapter 1: The Call

Avery Weaver kicked her feet up on her desk and leaned back in her chair, letting the late afternoon light filter in through the blinds in jagged lines across the room. The air was cool, and the silence of the office wrapped itself around her like a comfortable cloak. She'd always preferred it that way—order, control, quiet. No chaos, no mess.

At 5'8", her long, dark hair cascaded down her back like a curtain of silk, reaching the small of her waist. Her slender frame gave her an air of cold elegance, but it was her green eyes that people really remembered—piercing, calculating, always scanning, always seeing more than they let on. Her porcelain skin, flawless and untouched by the sun, matched the chill she kept around herself. She liked it that way. Cold, distant, impenetrable.

She liked being alone.

Her phone buzzed, slicing through the stillness.

Avery groaned, her lips pulling into a wry smile as she glanced at the screen. Holly.

Holly was a good friend—one of the few people who still managed to drag her into things against her better judgment. But sometimes, Holly's problems were the last thing Avery wanted to deal with.

"Avery, I need your help. It's Jadin."

The name hit her like a shot to the chest. Jadin. She hadn't heard from him in years, but she remembered him—she couldn't forget him if she tried. He'd been the kind of guy who lived in the darker corners of a room, a magnetic, dangerous energy that made her skin crawl. Handsome in that way that made you want to get close, but not too close. And now... now he was locked away in a psych ward.

A sharp, bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat. Perfect.

"Jadin?" Avery echoed, as if she hadn't heard her properly. "As in your brother, Jadin? The one who went full psycho? Murdered his mom in a psychotic break?" She let the words hang in the air between them, her voice flat and incredulous.

Holly's voice trembled, just a little, betraying her calm facade. "Yes, Avery. He's been committed. They say it was a break. But... Avery, you're the only one who can help him."

Avery paused. She wasn't a stranger to troubled minds. She'd dealt with every kind of mental health crisis under the sun, from depression to dissociative identity disorder. But this? Murder? And by the person Holly had grown up with? That was a different beast entirely.

"I don't know, Holly. Murder. That's a pretty fucking big deal," Avery said, her tone sharp, but her mind already turning over the situation. She'd never really liked Jadin, but she understood the stakes. Holly was asking her for something more than just professional help—she was asking her to help her brother. Her brother, the one who had shattered everything he'd touched.

A soft, almost desperate sigh escaped Holly. "Avery, please. You know how he is. He's... he's not a monster. He just needs someone who can understand him. Please."

Avery's fingers drummed against her desk as she considered Holly's request. She didn't like getting involved in other people's messes, and this was as big of a mess as they came. But Holly was her friend. They'd been through too much together for Avery to say no. Besides, once you opened the door to someone's insanity, you couldn't shut it again. And with a patient like Jadin, it would be a wild ride from the start.

"Alright, alright," Avery finally said, leaning back in her chair and letting out a long, controlled breath. "I'll take him on. But don't get your hopes up, Holly. People like Jadin don't just 'snap out of it.' He's got more baggage than you could ever sort through."

There was a pause on the other end, then Holly's voice came through, smaller, more vulnerable than Avery had ever heard it. "Thank you. You're the only one who can... can make him see what he's done. Please. I don't want to lose him."

Avery rubbed her temples, suddenly feeling the weight of it all. Holly's plea hit harder than it should have. She didn't let people in. She didn't care about people the way Holly did about her brother.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll do what I can. But don't expect a miracle. He's still a killer, Holly. Remember that."

The line went dead.

Avery set the phone down slowly, leaning back in her chair, her mind racing. She wasn't sure if she was more disturbed by the fact that she was going to take on this case, or the fact that part of her was curious. What could drive a man to murder his own mother? What kind of chaos lurked beneath that smooth, charming exterior?

She wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

But it was too late now. She'd made the decision.

Rylan would be home soon. She didn't plan on telling him about this—about Jadin, about the case. He wouldn't care. He never did. They were two strangers living under the same roof, going through the motions of a marriage that had long since died.

Avery glanced at her reflection in the glass, her green eyes staring back at her, cold and unreadable. Jadin Walker. She hadn't seen him in years, but she could still feel his presence like a shadow in her mind. There was no telling what kind of chaos he'd bring with him, or what part of her would be left behind when it was all over.

But one thing was for sure. This was going to get very, very messy.