Gaining access to the Raft, a supermax prison designed to hold the most dangerous criminals, was an achievement in itself. Being granted the opportunity to step inside without the shackles of handcuffs was an exceedingly rare occasion, reserved for those deemed trusted enough to engage with the most volatile of inmates. You, in this intricate web of deception, managed to assume the identity of a psychologist. It was no small feat. But you were willing to do anything just to see his face again.

You glanced at the guards, their eyes flitting over you with a mix of skepticism and boredom. After an exhaustive security check, you were escorted to the designated meeting room—a stark, windowless chamber painted in muted grey. The only furnishings were a simple table and two chairs. The room felt suffocating. When the heavy door creaked open, Martin stepped inside, looking as regal as a fallen king despite the prison's drab surroundings. When his gaze met yours, it sent an electric jolt through your body.

“Doctor…” he said, his voice wrapping around you like a familiar melody. “I trust you’re here to help me?”