"Let’s be honest," the professor said, leaning casually against the desk. It was bright and early on Monday morning, and most people hadn’t had ti for their morning coffee yet. Exams were coming up in a few weeks before Christmas, and everyone was getting more and more stressed with every class that passed.
Even the professor of the first year Abnormal Psychology class seed to have seen better days as he continued. "There are only two reasons why most of you signed up for Abnormal Psychology in your first year of university."
A few students laughed nervously.
"You either want to know about deviant sexual behavior," he ticked off the first finger, "or you’re obsessed with serial killers, sociopaths, and psychopaths."
More laughter followed, but it was sharper now that everyone had just been called out. Even Seraphina would have admitted that before everything fell apart, she had been intrigued about serial killers. In fact, she wanted to beco a governnt agent hunting them down.
But that was a lifeti ago. Now, she didn’t care about much.
"Don’t worry. You’re not alone," the professor continued, pacing slowly in front of the room. "Pop culture has made monsters fascinating. People are desperately trying to make the villain the main character of their story, like a tragic backstory is enough to turn soone into a killer. But what no one tells you is that most real monsters never get diagnosed. At least, not officially."
He stopped walking and looked directly at the lecture hall.
"The narcissists. The psychopaths. The social predators. They can live their whole lives undetected, charming, successful, and celebrated. CEOs, lawyers, influencers. Even professors, maybe." He smiled, and the class chuckled again. "They don’t wear signs. They don’t foam at the mouth. They’re often smarter than their therapists, better liars than their friends, and more convincing than any lie detector. By the ti you recognize what they are, it’s already too late."
Sera didn’t smile. She sat two rows from the back, her pen motionless on the page. Her eyes didn’t leave the professor.
His words echoed in her head... ’By the ti you recognize them, it’s already too late.’ She didn’t need a reminder; she had learned that firsthand when her sister threw her at Adam. You might know a person’s face, but you never knew their heart.
The class ended ten minutes early, most of the modules had already been covered, and now it was just the 30 page paper on a subject of their choice that had to be written.
She packed her bag in silence, letting the noise of the room swirl around her like fog. Most of the students were already talking about lunch or exam stress, or what series they’d binge next. But Sera’s phone buzzed before she even reached the hallway.
Marla - Real Estate Agent: Offer accepted. You can move in any ti after the 29th.
She exhaled slowly as a soft smile appeared on her face. She could move in after the 29th. She looked at her watch. That was less than a week away. She could do this. She had to do this.
--------
The gym was louder than usual when she arrived for her afternoon shift. Boxers were grunting over pads, the weight section clanged with steel, and the front door kept opening and closing with the rhythm of a bell that had long since stopped working.
She scanned in three people before she saw him.
Lachlan stood near the treadmills, arms crossed, watching a sparring match between two of the newer fighters. He looked exactly the sa—dark sweatshirt, fitted joggers, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing forearms laced with faint old scars. His head was tilted slightly, but he was watching the ring with that sa calm calculation he always had.
The mont she saw him, her shoulders dropped, and her jaw unclenched. Even her spine, tight from walking through the city all day, loosened just enough for her to exhale.
She hadn’t even realized how wound up she’d been until he was there again—like a door she didn’t know she was holding shut had quietly clicked open.
She moved through her shift automatically—scanning cards, checking the tir for the ellipticals, replacing towels at the cleaning station. But her eyes kept drifting back to Lachlan.
And eventually, he walked over.
"Back from the dead?" she asked, dropping her eyes to the computer that she was looking at.
"Just took a day," he replied, leaning against the counter. "Had to deal with a plumbing issue. Water heater tried to explode."
She glanced at him. "And did you punch it back into submission?"
"Only a little." He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
They stood in companionable silence for a mont before a loud thunk drew their attention.
In the corner of the gym, one of the boxers was slumped over the bench, arm outstretched. Another man hovered beside him, slipping sothing small and tallic back into his gym bag.
Lachlan didn’t move, but his eyes narrowed.
"What do you think?" he asked quietly, that sa half-smile playing on his lips. "Steroids?" he continued, jokingly answering his own question.
"You wish," Sera murmured, her tone low and hard. Even from this distance, she could easily see the insignia on the small bottle the man had injected his friend with. "What they just injected..." She paused, her voice tightening. "It’s going to cause more damage than any drug you have ever seen."
"I don’t know," Lachlan chuckled lightly. "I’ve seen a lot of damage from drugs. But I’ll need to speak to them. I don’t let any of that shit in my doors, and they should know better than that. We’ll revoke their mbership from here on out."
"I don’t know if it will do any good," Sera shrugged. "That particular thing has been going around a lot more than I thought lately."
Lachlan’s head tilted slightly. "You know sothing."
"I know a lot of things." Her gaze didn’t leave the man with the gym bag. "But if you believe anything I ever say... believe this." She looked back at Lachlan, the smile completely gone from her face. "If you ever see sothing with that crest on it—if anyone offers you sothing with a Hydra logo on it, no matter what you think it is—run. Run away, as fast as you can. If you wait, then you are already dead."
He didn’t laugh.
He didn’t ask if she was serious.
Instead, he studied her face for a long mont, then said, "You know... I think you actually believe those words."
Sera t his gaze evenly and scoffed before turning around and going back to her tasks. If he believed her or not, that was up to him. She warned him, and that was all she was willing to do.
Neither of them said anything after that. Not about the needle. Not about the logo. Not about the faint silver gleam still visible in the corner of the injection cap on the floor, which no one else in the gym seed to notice.
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