The room erupted in objections, filling the air with a loud buzz of concern. For Rowan, it was ambiance, though. Her heart pounded in her ears far louder.

On the other side of the glass, the boy smiled, the same dare in his eyes as the day before, only she knew what it meant now. When she delivered the blood to him, she’d started something. She solved a piece of him, revealed she knew one of his secrets. She went from just another victim to an opponent in a game, that look in his eyes saying your turn.

His first move was as good as a checkmate, though, and he knew it. Despite her newfound resolve to stick with the project, she refused to go anywhere near those security doors again. He already scared her stiff with the glass wall separating them; she'd never survive entering that room, especially after the last ones to enter left bloodied and nearly dead.

If he didn't kill her, her palpitating heart would.

If she refused? No one would blame her, but the project would be at a standstill once again. The praise she so quickly became addicted to would disappear, along with the promise of success this project offered. Worst of all though, her questions wouldn’t have answers.

Beside her, Phelps and Miller bickered again, bits of their heated debate working its way past Rowan’s considerations.

“You are not sending that girl in there. She’s barely started her life, and you’re going to give her a death sentence.”

“Don’t be stupid, Robert. No one is making anyone do anything. Of course we’re not going to send her in there, but what else do you suggest we do from here?”

“We need to sedate him so we can take some samples. If we have samples, we don’t need to hear anything coming out of his mouth.”

“And how do you suggest we sedate him? It took an excessive dose of morphine just to slow him down enough for us to get him here. And he took five others with him. He won’t be letting anyone else near him with a needle again."

“It doesn’t matter. Whatever we do, we don’t need to be sending any more innocent people to their deaths. William barely survived your first suicide mission.”

“We got him out, and he’s stable.”

“He’ll be scarred for the rest of his life!”

The undercurrent of panic in their argument spreaded around the room like wildfire. People's awe turned to fearful mutters, and weary glances in Rowan’s direction, waiting with bated breath for her reaction.

This is what he wanted. Chaos. Fear. Not just her own now, but everyone’s around her. Watching him through the dirtied glass, she saw glee dancing in his eyes like flames. It entertained him to have so much control when he was locked up in isolation. It became clear to Rowan that he had every intention now to make this investigation as painful as possible for everyone involved.

After all, how else was he suppose to rebel against his containment? All he had was their fear. Beyond it, he was nothing but an animal in a cage, puffing up his fur and trying to look big to keep them all scared.

He was bluffing.

At least, Rowan hoped he was, because she was about to do something extremely stupid.

“I’ll do it.”

The room silenced in shock at her words, then immediately erupted into outraged murmurs. It wasn’t the reaction of the other doctors she was waiting on, though.

Rowan followed the boy inside the containment room as his eyebrow lifted, the smirk on his lips spreading even wider. She didn’t know what to make of the expression, but she hoped it was positive. She hoped she was playing his game to his satisfaction; if she amused him enough, maybe she’d live a few extra turns.

Or just long enough to find out something useful.

“What are you talking about, Rowan?” It was Phelps who voiced outrage first, bewildered by her idiotic resolve.

Then Miller. “Please, Dr. Platts. Don’t feel like you have to do this. This is not your responsibility. We’ll think of something else. This is just too dangerous.”

“I said I’ll do it.”

Rowan looked at her mentors with fire in her eyes. Where she found that heat, she wasn’t sure. Only moments ago she was stone cold with terror, but now, she was hot with new resolve, much like when she banged on the glass in attempt to wipe the boy’s wicked laugh off his face after attacking William. Perhaps she just couldn’t stand him enjoying himself so much.

“But why, Rowan?” Miller’s concern was palpable.

“We have those bracelets right?” she asked, seeking out Miller for confirmation.

The doctor raised her brow and sighed with disbelief. “Sure we do. If you wear one, theoretically he should be unable to touch you without triggering a shock, and that seems to be effectively disabling him so far.”

Something about the way she worded her explanation was less than convincing, though. The subject had defied their expectations numerous times before, so there was no guarantee. Phelps lifted a hand to point out this flaw, but she interrupted before he could offer it.

“I know the risks, doctors, but the bracelet is not my only safety net in this situation.” Rowan glanced into the containment room again, wanting to be sure that the fear-inducing maniac on the other side was listening. His gaze was sharp, focused on the spot that her rapid heart was beating. “I’m his only chance of getting out of here."

Those blue eyes narrowed a fraction, confirming she had his attention.

“If I go in there, he could very well kill me… But that won’t get him anywhere. If I’m killed, the project will be at a standstill again. At least by speaking to me, by leaving me alive, he has some chance left of no longer being a prisoner here.”

Her logic was sound, but it was yet to be proven whether their contained subject followed logic and reason. Nevertheless, Rowan swayed a few people around her, including Dr. Miller.

"You really want to do this?" She was still concerned, but behind it was that excitement she had trouble concealing. Even though Miller feared for Rowan’s safety, she couldn't help but be curious for the outcome.

Just as Rowan was.

Phelps silently urged her to reconsider, but she pretended not to notice. It hurt to go against his wishes. Instead, Rowan nodded once to Miller, confirming this was her final decision. A few gasps circled the room, but otherwise, her colleagues stayed as quiet as ghosts.

"I’m glad you decided to stay with us, Dr. Platts." Miller’s praise was too sugary, but it helped Rowan swallow the sour truth.

She was absolutely terrified.

The sound of the security door shutting behind her was solid. Final. The bracelet, clamped snug around her wrist like a handcuff, offered no comfort. Somewhere outside her shallow breathing, she heard Miller speaking through the telecom again.

"We are sending in a doctor. You are to stay two yards away from her at all times. If you touch her, or do not cooperate, you will be immobilized. Do you understand, Subject?"

The bloodied boy did not reply. Instead, there was an unsettling silence, then Rowan heard the loud, mechanical locks on the doors. Once behind her, shutting her in, and then in front, allowing access to the monster on the other side. Rowan swallowed down the sick feeling that rose in her throat, letting out a long exhale to try and calm herself.

There was a low chuckle, then, dragging fingernails, lightly across the metal door in front of her.

“Come out of your hole, little mouse. The cat wants to play.”

His tone implied he was joking, but something sinister was also laced in it. It made the air catch in her throat, escaping in a hiss across a quivering lip. She twisted the cuff on her wrist with shaking fingers, trying to find her resolve again. She must have forgotten it in the previous room.

Rowan closed her eyes, shaking off the fear that clung to her ankles like chains, and took a heavy step towards the door. Like Pandora, opening her box of chaos, Rowan reached for the heavy handle with a timid hand. She was damned, regardless of what happened after the door opened. It was the choice to open it that condemned her.

She pushed the handle down and the latch gave, the door cracking a sliver from its frame. The pungent, metallic smell of blood assaulted her senses. She tasted it in the back of her throat, and it made her gag. Throwing a hand to her mouth, her small breakfast threatened to make a reappearance.

There was no sign of him in the white line of light, so she pressed her palm flat against the metal and urged it open further, watching cautiously as the containment room came into view. A few careful steps brought her inside, until finally she caught sight of his shape and froze like a scared deer.

He leaned against the wall opposite of her, allowing much more space between them than required, as if attempting to make her less uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he followed her with a predatory precision, which negated any ease his distance provided.

Rowan swallow down another large lump in her throat and threw her gaze to the ground, hoping that if she didn’t see him, she could pretend he simply wasn’t there. Bloody footprints littered the tile she stood on; she resisted a yelp as she retreated a step, and her shoulderblades hit the wall beside the entrance.

Attempting to gain some control, she reached into her white jacket and pulled out the tablet she’d been provided, opening up some notes with shaking fingers. All Rowan had to do was stand there and ask some of the questions listed on the device. It would not be difficult. Just keep her eyes down.

They betrayed her almost immediately, sensing his burning stare on her skin and looking back up at him in reflex. She felt her heart stop briefly, stabbed by the frigid chill of his unblinking stare. She saw his lip twitch up a fraction, and she inhaled hard and forced her attention back to the tablet.

“My name is Dr. Rowan Platts, and—”

“Doctor?” He had been utterly silent so far, almost painfully so, but the moment Rowan began to speak he interrupted. A well-executed disruption tactic forced her bit of bravery to tangle up in her throat. “You seem young to be a doctor, Miss Platts.” His voice wrapped around her name smoothly, like how a lover might say it, making Rowan feel dirty and defiled.

“I’m finishing my dissertation.” She managed a sharpness back.

His eyes flashed with a silent laugh. “So you’re not a doctor. Yet.”

“As far as you’re concerned, I’m a doctor.” Rowan was surprised at the levelness of her words. It seemed offense distracted her from her fear, however briefly.

His eyebrow raised a fraction, then he lowered his gaze, breaking his stare finally. Surrender? “Very well, doctor.” His sarcasm suggested otherwise.

“Dr. Miller has already explained the situation, so I think we should just get down to the questi—”

“You’re not what I expected.” Another interruption. He could tell it was breaking her focus and was definitely doing it for that reason. With her tongue twisted again, he pushed off from the wall to stand, and continued the thought. “I imagined someone older. Dark hair.”

“Thank you. You’ve just confirmed that you at least don’t have super vision and can’t see through the one-way glass.” Rowan grabbed the tablet pen and marked in the note, pretending not to be painfully aware of the step towards her he had taken. “Have anything else you’d like to tell us?”

He stretched out the silence, as though he was going to let Rowan get away with that overconfident retort. He was just stewing in the moment, though.

“I have a preference for A negative.”

Rowan’s shoulders tensed, but she tried to not let the sick joke jostle her. It was what he wanted. Still, she could see the smug grin on his face from her peripherals, his response kicking her heart into overdrive.

“We already knew of your heightened sense of smell.” But was it so precise that he could place her blood type, or was that just an extremely lucky shot in the dark? She pretended his comment hadn’t shaken her as badly as it did, even though it seemed frivolous to hide her physical reactions.

“You’re a doctor, so tell me. What’s the average heartbeats per minute for a young woman like yourself? Seventy? You should consider getting checked out.” He looked like a cat in cream, so pleased with himself that if the fear wasn’t already making Rowan sick to her stomach, his arrogance would. “Yours is going a lot faster than that.”

“Congratulations. You’ve brought attention to the obvious fact that you’re terrifying. Now, if you’re finished playing games with me, how about you tell us something we don’t already know. Like a name, maybe.”

The fear and frustration cracked her shell, and she spilled defensive words before she had time to think about the consequences of her tone. She kept her eyes glued to the tablet, because even though she found the stupidity to talk back to him, she had not yet come across the bravery to stand behind those words and look him in the eye.

Somehow, she got away with this response unscathed. In fact, Rowan thought that perhaps she heard a breathy chuckle from across the room, but she couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t allowed time to confirm the foreign noise.

“I don’t have a name,” he said, like it was the simplest thing.

Rowan scoffed. “Everyone has a name.”

“I’ve been alone for a very long time. I’ve never needed a name.” The joking from before seemed to have disappeared, his tone inching toward boredom instead.

“But when you were born. You must have been given one.”

“I’ve long forgotten my family name.” He paused, taking another step away from the wall as he spoke. “My first name, though. Lyall.”

Rowan wrote it down on the tablet, trying to ignore his movements. The five-yard distance he started with was closer to three now. With every step her pulse raced a beat faster.

“Do you know what it means?” he asked, continuing when Rowan forced a neutral reaction. “It comes from old norse. Wolf. Fits, don’t you think?” He smiled with the side of his mouth, a toothy grin that resembled the animal he cited.

Rowan simply glanced back down to the tablet, refusing to acknowledge his feralness. “Your age?”

“How old do I look?” he fired back the question immediately. His tone was the most innocent so far, like he was honestly curious. It was perhaps even more unsettling than when he was playing mind games.

Rowan dared a glance up at him, dashing over his unblemished skin and full head of blood-matted, dark brown hair. “No older than twenty.”

His lip twitched up, but otherwise, he gave no further explanation.

She recorded the number, if only to distract her from how uncomfortable the silence was. Whenever the conversation lulled, Rowan heard her heart pounding in her ears, like the persistent ticking of a clock, reminding her of the time going by. Every second, a moment longer in that room with him. Every second, another violent slam against her rib cage, her fear trying to force its way out through her chest.

Was the inside of her head really this loud, or was the silence just playing tricks?

“Might I make a request?”

Finally, he broke through the beating drum in her head with his words, although this time there was something off about his tone. The mocking had been laid on thick so far, but this question rang with soft sincerity.

Rowan lifted her gaze from her tablet, inhaling sharp and pushing herself further back into the wall immediately.

He was staring again, steady and unblinking, but it was not with the purpose to make her uncomfortable this time. His pupils dilated wide, the black almost completely taking over the blue. He did not look her in the eye, either. Rather, his gaze directed lower, and when Rowan swallowed down her thick fear, she watched his lips part slightly in reaction. The pieces put themselves together, and she threw her hand up around her bare neck.

He blinked, like coming out of a trance. “Could you perhaps wear your hair down while we speak?” With his focus off her neck now, the black receded slightly.

Rowan sighed, relieved when he was no longer locked onto her neck. Removing her hand, she pulled the tie out of her hair and adjusted what she could of her thin, blonde strands forward so the skin of her neck and jaw were in shadows.

“Sorry.” An apology slipped out by reflex before she could stop herself.

He didn’t seem to hear. Instead, he’d shut his eyes and took in a smooth, calming breath, exhaling slowly. His shoulder relaxed a fraction. Rowan expected him to open them and see the sarcasm dancing across his expression again, the blood-thirsty animal banished, but she was mistaken. His pupils stayed dilated, black and possessed, as he returned his gaze to her.

“It would probably be best if we wrapped this up for today, doctor.” His voice was steady, too steady. The kind that suggested tight control.

She didn’t have to be told twice. Rowan stepped towards the exit, but offered a question while retreating. “Will you speak with me again?”

Something felt unfinished between them. Even though she wanted nothing but to get out of that room and never come back in, she also felt like there was more here that needed to be said, the curiosity that encouraged her to enter the containment room aching with dissatisfaction.

He was clearly surprised by the question, his expression flashing interest beyond the haze in his eyes. “Why?”

“We need samples. Blood, DNA, a biopsy maybe. Would you consent?” She took another backstep to the door, her fingers wrapping the handle.

“What do I get in return?”

Rowan gaped, completely at a loss of what to even offer him other than more blood. She managed to stutter out a response. “Whatever you want, within reason.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up, and she saw his pupils widen further before he forced his gaze to the ground to offer a nod. “Ok.”

Rowan didn’t wait for anything further. The details could be ironed out when he wasn’t ready to rip out her throat. She knew not to push a cornered animal, and she was beginning to shake so badly now that she worried her legs wouldn’t hold out if she waited any longer.

Opening the metal door swiftly, she exited the containment room and shut it hard behind her. The automated locks latched themselves, and Rowan released a shuddered sigh, a wave of overwhelming relief engulfing her body. She was still alive.

With the fear-induced adrenaline now diluting in her veins, Rowan collapsed onto her weak knees. The door into the observation room opened, and Miller immediately crouched beside her, grabbing her elbow and helping her back to her feet. Beyond the sudden lightheadedness, she heard the doctor’s praise in her ear while being led off to the infirmary to recover.