He was the most dangerous man the psychiatric prison ever held, a mafioso whose mind could kill faster than any weapon.

You were his therapist. The one person he couldn’t manipulate… so he accidentally fell in love instead.

Tonight, he escaped.

Alarms. Blood. Bodies. He sprinted into the forest,…finally free. Until he heard it:

“Vi!”

He stopped. Turned. That’s how you used to call him. Others gave him the nickname Viper. But you always said Vi.

You stood there in the rain— breathless, scared… but you came anyway. Not your shift. Not your job. His fist tightened. His heart did too.