Chapter 17 : Into the Lion’s Den

The cold air cuts through my jacket as I step out of the main building, following Captain Hayes and the two guards down a narrow path that leads deeper into Frigid Rock. The wind carries the smell of saltwater and something else—something rotten and old, like decaying seaweed. The ocean crashes against the jagged rocks below, the sound echoing up the cliffs, reminding me just how isolated this place really is. There’s no escape here, no easy way out. Once you’re on this island, you’re stuck.

“Your quarters are just ahead, Professor,” Captain Hayes says, his voice low and steady. “You’ll have everything you need for the duration of the project, including a secure line for communication with the mainland.”

I nod, my mind still reeling from everything I’ve seen today. The cold, the damp, the smell of salt and decay—it all adds to the overwhelming sense of desolation that hangs over this place like a shroud. And then there’s Sev. I can’t stop thinking about him, about the way he looked at me, the way he seemed to see right through me.

He’s dangerous. Captain Hayes made that clear enough. But there’s something else about him, something that makes it hard to get him out of my head. He’s not like the other inmates. There’s a sharp intelligence in his eyes, a kind of dark intensity that’s both terrifying and… intriguing.

“Here we are,” Hayes says, snapping me out of my thoughts. We’ve reached a small, nondescript building set apart from the main prison complex. It’s nothing special—just a squat, concrete structure with barred windows and a heavy metal door.

“The security system here is top-notch,” Hayes continues as he leads me inside. “You’ll be safe as long as you follow protocol. The guards will be stationed outside 24/7, and the cameras cover every angle.”

“Thank you,” I manage, though my voice sounds distant even to my own ears. My mind is still on the yard, on the Sevens, on Sev.

The inside of the building is just as bleak as the exterior. The walls are painted a dull, institutional gray, and the floors are covered in scuffed linoleum. There’s a small living area with a threadbare couch and a coffee table, a kitchenette stocked with the basics, and a narrow hallway that leads to a single bedroom and bathroom. It’s sparse, functional, and completely devoid of any warmth or comfort.

“This will be your home for the next few months,” Hayes says, handing me a keycard. “Only you and the guards have access. Use the card to lock and unlock the door, and make sure it’s always secure when you’re inside.”

I take the keycard, slipping it into my pocket. “Understood.”

“Good,” he replies, his tone softening slightly. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. We’re all here to support you and ensure the success of this project.”

I nod again, though I can’t help but feel a growing sense of unease. This place feels more like a cage than a home, and I’m not sure I’m ready to spend months here, surrounded by the worst humanity has to offer. But I made a commitment—to the project, to Dr. Reed, and to myself. I have to see this through, no matter how difficult it gets.

“Thank you, Captain,” I say, forcing a smile. “I appreciate your help.”

He returns the smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Get some rest, Professor. You’ll need it.”

With that, he turns and leaves, the guards following him out. The door closes with a heavy thud, and I’m left alone in the cold, sterile silence of my new quarters.

I walk over to the window, looking out at the dark, churning sea beyond the prison walls. The sky is overcast, the clouds hanging low and heavy, threatening rain. There’s no sign of life out there—just the endless, gray expanse of water and rock. It’s a stark reminder of just how isolated I am, how far I am from everything and everyone I know.

I can’t help but think back to the yard, to the moment when Sev’s eyes met mine. There was something electric about it, something that made my heart skip a beat and my breath catch in my throat. I know it’s dangerous to even think about him that way, but I can’t help it. There’s a pull there, something that draws me in despite every rational part of my brain screaming at me to stay away.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I need to focus on the task at hand, on the research, on the experiment. I can’t afford to get distracted, not now, not ever.

I turn away from the window and head down the hallway to the bedroom. It’s just as bare and functional as the rest of the quarters—a single bed with a thin mattress, a small desk, and a closet with a few hangers. I sit down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair.

What am I doing here? The question gnaws at me, the uncertainty of it all pressing down on my chest like a weight. I thought I was prepared for this, thought I knew what I was getting into. But nothing could have prepared me for the reality of this place, for the cold, the darkness, the sense of impending danger that lurks around every corner.

I lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts keep circling back to Sev, to the way he looked at me like he could see right through me. I’ve never felt anything like it before, and I don’t know what to make of it.

There’s a knock at the door, pulling me from my thoughts. I sit up, heart racing. Who could it be? The guards? Captain Hayes? Someone else?

I get up and walk to the door, peering through the small peephole. It’s one of the guards, a burly man with a thick mustache and a stern expression. I unlock the door and open it a crack.

“Professor Lockwood,” he says, his voice gruff. “There’s a package for you. From Dr. Reed.”

“Thank you,” I reply, opening the door wider to take the package from him. It’s a plain brown box, unmarked except for a small label with my name on it.

The guard nods and steps back, his hand resting on the baton at his side. “If you need anything, we’re right outside.”

“I appreciate it,” I say, closing the door behind him.

I carry the package over to the coffee table and set it down, my curiosity piqued. What could Dr. Reed have sent me? I grab a pair of scissors from the kitchenette and carefully cut the tape, lifting the lid to reveal the contents inside.

It’s a mix of personal items and work materials. There’s a stack of files, a notebook, and a few reference books that I recognize from my office. But there’s also a small, framed photo of my parents—one I haven’t seen in years. It must have been taken from my apartment, packed up with the rest of my things. I pick up the frame, my fingers tracing the edges of the photo.

My mom and dad are smiling, their arms around each other, the sun setting behind them on a beach somewhere. It’s a memory from a happier time, before everything fell apart. Before my dad became the monster everyone said he was. Before my mom… I swallow hard, pushing the memories back down.

There’s a note tucked into the corner of the frame, written in Dr. Reed’s neat, precise handwriting. I unfold it and read the message inside:

*Liberty,*

*I know this is a difficult time for you, but I want you to remember why you’re here. This experiment is important, not just for the research, but for you as well. You have the chance to make a real difference, to do something that matters. Don’t lose sight of that.*

*Stay strong. I’ll be in touch.*

*—Dr. Reed*

I set the note down, my eyes lingering on the photo for a moment longer. Dr. Reed is right. This is my chance to do something meaningful, something that could change the way we understand criminal behavior and rehabilitation. I can’t let fear or doubt get in the way of that.

I take a deep breath, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. I’m here for a reason, and I’m not going to let anything—or anyone—distract me from that. Not even Sev.

I put the photo on the desk in the bedroom, then head back to the coffee table to sort through the rest of the materials. There’s a lot of work to do, and I need to be ready for whatever comes next.

As I sit down to review the files, my mind drifts back to the yard, to the way Sev’s eyes seemed to pierce right through me. There’s something about him, something that I can’t quite put my finger on. But whatever it is, I know it’s going to make this project a lot more complicated than I anticipated.

I shake my head, focusing on the task in front of me. I can’t let myself get distracted. There’s too much at stake. But even as I try to push thoughts of him aside, I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about right now. Is he thinking about me too?

The thought sends a shiver down my spine, a mix of fear and something else—something I’m not ready to confront just yet. But one thing’s for sure: this is just the beginning, and I have a feeling that things are about to get a whole lot more complicated.