Chapter 4

Sloane's POV

Early the next morning, my private clinic.

Linus sat across from my desk. He was wearing a gray hoodie, his long legs stretched out casually.

"Coffee, or black tea?" I leaned against the edge of my desk, keeping my voice low. "After yesterday's little scare, I lay awake all night thinking about your 'superpower.' I need to see it for myself."

Linus stared at me, a dangerous glint flashing in those grayish-blue eyes. "Let's set the ground rules first. I only get fragmented flashes. No audio. It's like watching a chopped-up old silent film. You'll have to piece the context together yourself."

"Lawrence Caldwell." I stared dead into his eyes. "Tell me what my highly respected father-in-law is doing right now."

Linus closed his eyes.

His breathing slowed. In the dim light, the sharp lines of his jaw grew tense. One second. Two seconds. Three.

"A massive study," he said suddenly, his voice raspy. "Dark green leather sofa. Mahogany desk. There are several blue pill bottles on it."

That was Lawrence's private study in his hillside mansion. Blue pill bottles—he had to take those meds daily now.

"He's taking his pills," Linus added.

My head snapped up, my eyes burning with an almost manic intensity.

"Does it work long-distance?" I reached my hand out to him again. "My husband, Whitfield. He went to Boston yesterday. I want to know every single detail of what he's doing."

Linus scoffed. As he closed his eyes, he tilted his head slightly, as if carefully interpreting the broken images in his head.

"A retro hotel. The carpet is dark red. The pattern looks like moldy vines—it's disgusting."

I clenched my jaw, waiting for him to continue.

"He's on the phone. He looks pissed," Linus said slowly. "He's yanking at his tie. Tapping his left index finger nervously on the desk. There's a fax on the table. The header has a red cross stamp—it's from your hospital, East Haverlock."

I snatched my hand back, pulled my phone from my coat pocket, and dialed Whit's number without hesitation.

"Sloane?" Whit answered instantly, his tone slipping right back into that gentle, almost groveling cadence. "Why the sudden call? Miss me already?"

"Of course." I pinched the phone to my ear, curling my lips into a smile, my voice dripping with honey. "How's the expo in Boston? Is the hotel comfortable?"

"Don't even mention it. It's a disaster." I heard Whit sigh irritably on the other end. "The carpet in my room is dark red, and the pattern is hideous. It looks like it's covered in red mold."

"Are you busy right now? You sound like you're mad at someone." I baited the hook smoothly.

"Just looking over some boring medical faxes," Whit rushed to soothe me. "My tie is choking me to death. Don't worry, darling, I'll be back tomorrow to be with you."

"Okay."

I hung up the phone. I slowly turned around and looked at the nineteen-year-old sitting on my sofa.

In that moment, he was no longer just a psych patient.

He was a master key—the ultimate bargaining chip that could crack open the vaults of East Haverlock's elite. With him, who could possibly hide a secret from me? Old money, medical empires—as long as I controlled these eyes, I could become the god looking down on all of them.

Ambition grew in my veins like a weed.

"What do you want, Linus?" I walked back to my desk, leaning over him with both hands planted on the wood. "Name your price."

Linus looked up at my undisguised greed, clearly satisfied with the result.

"I want out of this hellhole." He enunciated every word. "I want absolute freedom."

"If you play ball with me," I said, holding his gaze, "I promise I will have you declared 'fully recovered' and you can walk right out the front door. Nobody will ever call you crazy again."

"Deal." He extended his hand.

I shook it firmly.

The incredible rush of total control put me in a better mood than I'd been in for years. I suddenly remembered Cas snapping at me about the divorce last night.

Thinking about it now, it was just a needy puppy barking for attention.

I made a decision—I'd buy a bottle of his favorite Sancerre after work and go smooth his feathers.

"Oh, right. One more thing. Check what Caspian is doing." I let go of his hand gracefully, a slight smirk playing on my lips. "He's probably smashing plates, still throwing a tantrum."

Linus closed his eyes again. Ten seconds later, I saw a bizarre, deeply cruel smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

His eyes snapped open, blazing with naked mockery.

"No, Dr. Hollister. He's not angry at all."

"Then what is he doing?" I absently straightened my cuff.

"He's exercising." Linus actually laughed out loud.

"Very intense, breath-stealing bedroom gymnastics."

I froze.

"A gorgeous woman is currently straddling your little boy toy. They are going at it so hard I think the bed frame is about to break."