I nodded. “Okay. Fine. Whatever you want.”
“Wonderful!” Her voice brightened unnaturally, the sound of a mask snapping back into place.
A knock broke the silence. The door opened without waiting for permission.
“Miranda?” a man’s voice asked.
A figure stepped into the room — tall, balding, wearing a spotless white lab coat. His round glasses caught the light, hiding his eyes for a moment before they reappeared, small and black and hungry. Something about the way he smiled made my skin crawl.
“Ah, Phillip,” Warden Wild purred. “Just in time. Meet our newest student.”
I went cold. Dr Marr.
I’d heard of him of course. My father was a devout follower of his progress.
And now, staring up at this unassuming man, I had never wanted to run so far in my life.
The man approached, slow and deliberate, like he was already cataloguing me.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my dear,” he said, extending a hand. “I’ve been looking forward to working with you directly for a while.”
I stared at it — pale, too clean, fingers twitching like he couldn’t wait to touch.
“I don’t touch,” I said flatly.
His hand lingered in the air a moment longer before he lowered it, the smile never leaving his face. “We’ll fix that.”
I suppressed a shudder.
Suddenly, from outside the office, came a commotion — the crash of furniture, the clang of metal against stone.
Then laughter.
Wild, unhinged laughter that rolled down the hallway like a living thing.
Warden Wild’s head snapped up. Her lips pressed into a thin line, colour draining from her face.
“Well,” she said briskly, her composure cracking just enough for me to notice, “if that’s all, I have a great deal of work to do. Miss Harrin, please wait outside with Lyra. I’ll deal with this—” her nostrils flared, “—unpleasantness.”
Before I could move, the door slammed open.
Two guards stumbled through, struggling to contain someone between them — a boy, maybe a few years older than me, his hands cuffed but sparking faintly with restrained energy.
His hair was silvery-brown and wild around his face, his eyes mismatched — one gold, one blue — and a long scar cut across his cheek like lightning carved into skin.
He wasbeautiful.
And he was furious.
The guards tried to hold him, but he threw them off like they were made of paper, laughter spilling out of him again — manic, reckless, electric.
For a heartbeat, his gaze met mine.
And I felt it — a pull, sharp and inexplicable, like gravity deciding to change direction.
A huge grin spread across his face, slow and seductive.
“There you are,” he smirked.
