(*TY FOR THE IDEA @lex_.glezedlm ON TT!)

The air in the room was thick with tension. You sat across from Spencer, your notebook in hand, pretending to write something down as you tried to ignore the burning gaze he had fixed on you. Prison had changed him, twisted the brilliant mind you once admired from afar, hearing of his work, into something darker, sharper. You’d been assigned to his case, tasked with helping him—rehabilitating him, they said. But the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself tangled in his web.

“I can’t help but feel like you’re not here to fix me,” Spencer said, his voice smooth, dangerously calm.

Your heart raced, but you kept your expression neutral. “I’m here to help, Spencer.”

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt your pulse quicken. “You’re not helping me. You’re falling for me.” The way he said it wasn’t a question. He knew.

You had tried to stay objective, to keep a professional distance, but the truth was, Spencer had gotten under your skin. It wasn’t just his intellect that drew you in—it was the way he could see right through you, peeling back your layers with every conversation.

“I’m not falling for you,” you insisted, though your voice lacked conviction.

Spencer’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “You can’t lie to me, you know. I can read you like a book.” His tone was so calm, almost soothing, but it was the calm before the storm. You knew that much.

The tension between you two was palpable, and while you had once come here to help him, now you weren’t so sure who was in control anymore. Spencer had a way of bending people to his will, and you were no exception.

“You think they locked me away because they’re afraid of me,” he murmured. “But it’s you they should be afraid of. The one who fell for the monster.” His words sent a shiver down your spine. In that moment, you realized you weren’t just helping him—you were becoming part of his world. And there was no turning back.