Addicted (M)

Chapter 2: The Meeting

Avery stood before the heavy steel doors of the psych ward, her hands buried deep in her coat pockets, her breath coming in slow, controlled puffs. The sharp, sterile scent of bleach and antiseptic filled the air—familiar, cold, suffocating. She hated this place. Hated the way the walls seemed to close in on you, how the silence was always too loud. But what really set her nerves on edge was the undercurrent of desperation—the kind that clung to the air, thick and choking, like something that would never wash away.

She'd been in hospitals enough to know that this was where broken things went to die. This was where people's lives were dissected and categorized, fixed—or not fixed—depending on how deep their issues ran. She didn't care about any of that.

But Jadin?

Jadin Walker wasn't like the rest. He was something else entirely.

At 6 feet tall, he towered over most people, even in the scrubs of a psychiatric ward. His dark black hair—cut short and messily falling into his eyes—made his pale complexion seem even more striking, as if he didn't belong in a place like this. His icy blue eyes, colder than a winter storm, could freeze you with a single glance, and they were locked on her now, like he was sizing her up from behind a glass wall.

Avery hated that look. The kind of look that made you wonder if you were the prey or the predator.

The nurse opened the door with a code and a mechanical beep, stepping aside to let her in. Avery nodded her thanks, but her gaze was already fixed on the door that lay before her.

She stepped through it, her heels clicking sharply against the tile. The room was small, sterile—just like every other room in this place. The hum of fluorescent lights above felt almost suffocating. The air was too thin, too full of too many things left unsaid.

At the far end of the room, Jadin sat against the wall, his back straight, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He didn't look at her right away, just sat there in that eerie stillness, as if he were some kind of statue come to life. There was something almost predatory about the way he moved—or didn't move. His presence filled the room in a way that felt... unnatural. It was like the entire space was built around him, and she was just a distraction.

She waited for him to speak first. It was his game to play, after all.

When he finally lifted his eyes to meet hers, the air between them seemed to thicken. His eyes were as cold as she remembered, sharp and calculating, the kind of eyes that seemed to see through everything you pretended to hide. There was nothing warm about him. No softness, no comfort. Just ice.

And yet—there was something there. Something dangerous.

Avery's breath hitched in her throat, but she didn't let it show. She wasn't here to flinch.

"Jadin," she said, keeping her tone level and professional. "I'm Dr. Avery Weaver. I'm here to help you."

The words felt hollow in the air, and he didn't respond at first. Just watched her, eyes narrowing with something that could almost be described as amusement—though it was far from kind.

"Help me?" His voice was low, almost a growl, the words slithering from his mouth like something dark and threatening. "Or help her?"

Avery froze for a second, her chest tightening at the mention of his mother. The room suddenly felt smaller. Shit, she thought, but didn't let it show. "You're not the first person to ask for help, Jadin. And you won't be the last." She let the words fall between them, careful, controlled, like the professional she was supposed to be.

He didn't look away. Didn't flinch. His icy blue eyes stayed locked on hers, almost too intently, like he was searching for something. His lips twitched—a ghost of a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Is that all you are?" he asked, his voice low, with a sharp edge to it. "A fixer? Someone who thinks she can untangle the messes that people like me make?"

Avery set her jaw, letting the insult roll off her. She'd been called worse in this job. A lot worse. "I'm not here to fix you, Jadin. I'm here to understand what happened that night. What's left of you, and whether you're fit to walk out of here."

There was a brief moment of silence before he shifted slightly, the muscles in his shoulders and chest moving beneath his scrubs, and Avery could swear she felt the air shift. It was like he wasn't just physically tall—he was mentally and emotionally towering over her too, his presence suffocating in the most subtle way.

"Fit to walk out?" He let out a low chuckle, but there was nothing light about it. "You really think anyone here is fit to walk out?"

Avery didn't flinch. "Some people walk out of here, Jadin. Some people don't. It's my job to figure out which one you are."

His gaze never wavered. "And what if I don't want to walk out?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. She hadn't expected this. She'd expected arrogance, yes. Manipulation, maybe. But this? This was something different. Dangerous.

"Then we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," she said, her voice calm. "But for now, we're going to talk. You're going to tell me everything. About that night. About your mother."

The room seemed to shrink with those words, as if the walls were closing in on them both. Jadin's expression didn't change, but there was a shift in his eyes—something colder, deeper. Like he was remembering. Reliving.

"You don't want to know," he whispered, his voice like ice against her skin.

Avery didn't back down. "Oh, I think I do."

The silence between them stretched, thick and oppressive, until it was so heavy it almost felt suffocating. She could feel the tension crawling up her spine. It was in the way he didn't break eye contact, in the way his lips barely moved as he watched her. There was something off about him—something chilling.

"You really think you can handle the truth?" His voice was soft now, almost a taunt. "What if I told you that night wasn't about some random psychotic break? What if it was more deliberate? More... calculated?"

Avery didn't flinch. She couldn't. "Then I'd say you're even more dangerous than I thought."

Jadin smiled. It wasn't a smile at all, really. More of a tightening of the lips. The kind of smile that sent a chill through her bones. It was a warning. A promise of something darker.

"You have no idea what you're walking into," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm not like the others you've dealt with, Dr. Weaver. I'm not a case. I'm something much worse."

Avery stared at him, her fingers twitching at her sides, the need to do something gnawing at her. To break through that icy exterior, to find something human beneath all the cold. But the truth was, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

She wasn't sure she could handle it.

"Well," she said after a long pause, keeping her voice steady, "I guess that's what I'm here to find out."

Jadin's gaze flickered for just a moment, like she'd said something that had caught him off guard. But just as quickly, he was back to his usual self—smiling without humor, studying her, probing, testing.

"You're not afraid of me, are you, Dr. Weaver?"

Avery didn't answer right away. She wanted to, wanted to let him know she wasn't scared of anything, especially him. But deep down, something in her gut twisted. She wasn't afraid... yet.

"No," she said, her voice cold and clear. "But you should be."

The air seemed to pulse between them, a palpable crackle of energy. Avery wasn't sure if she'd just made a mistake or if she'd actually hit a nerve. But one thing was certain: whatever this was, it was only just beginning.