If my father makes me stop taking them.

Hendrix essentially offered his future in order to save mine, and while I love him with my whole entire heart for it, I’m not in love with him, and he isn’t in love with me.

Call me a romantic, but I don’t want that for either of us.

He’ll keep reminding me that he’s willing to give me an out, though, and after watching Maddox go into his first heat without any kind of support or help because they were backpacking through Europe when it hit out of nowhere, he definitely won’t let me go through the same there, either.

“If I can’t have both of you, I won’t take either,” I say with a grin because I don’t want to get emotional on my first day here.

It’s already been a trying morning and if I think too hard about what he said, I’ll cry.

Evie and the twins are the only unconditional people I have in my life.

So, deflecting with humor it is because twin besties or not, Madds and Drix will not be with the same person at the same time.

Proven when Hendrix makes a gagging sound, and Maddox shudders as he says, “Twinning and winning, Maggie. We have the same DNA. Touching boners is where we draw the line, and there is a high probability of that happening if we fuck you at the same time. No shade, it’s just not our thing.”

“Exactly,” his brother grunts. “Love you but not enough for that to ever fucking happen.”

Giggling because I called it and love them, I make my way to the final security stop where we have our photos taken, then get our official badges that give us level three security clearance before we’re granted access to the main floor of Blackhurst Ridge.

This is how my father should have decorated the hospital.

Walking into the main lobby is like stepping back in time.

The outside of the asylum looks very much like a gothic cathedral; vaulted arches, stained glass, stone embellishments, dark wood, and carvings everywhere. It looks every bit like the French architecture Elijah Blackhurst was inspired by, and it makes knowing the history here even more intense.

But strolling through this floor toward the elevator, surrounded by a style that is a definite nod to the era when things took a turn for the better, it feels like two different buildings.

Marble floors with a large square pattern, the walls the same but a shade lighter, both a warm tan with deep brown swirls, the edges made of thick outlines in black.

There are various columns along the walls, designating multiple hallways or staircases, the marble framing them colored a very earthy green.

The furniture in the waiting area is strategically placed, almost set in a pattern, made up of dark leather couches and chairs, gold tables, coordinating lamps, artwork and plants for days.

It’s open and spacious but warm and inviting at the same time, and while I wish my father would have followed suit, I know this was intentionally done to put anyone who visits at ease.

This place is not warm or inviting, and I know that without ever having been inside.

“Is it weird that I’m excited to see the transfers?”

I frown as we step inside the elevator then push the number for our floor. “Yes?”

“Well, I am.” Maddox pushes a hand back through his hair and checks his reflection in the mirrored wall.

To which his twin says, “Why? You looking through the lineup for an alpha to settle down with?”

The two go back and forth after that, razzing each other about everything they can before it’s time to be professional. There’s a lot of love there but sometimes these two act like children.

When the elevator lurches to a stop, my stomach twists, my nerves tearing through it like a tornado, and when the doors open, I can’t stop the small gasp that leaves my lips as I reach out and grab Hendrix’s forearm.

Where downstairs was warm and inviting, in comparison, this floor looks like it’s straight out of a horror movie, and the entire vibe is so heavy I can feel it.

It’s dark and empty, the lighting dim and no art or plants to be seen.

“Wow,” I whisper as we step out, looking to my right, I see a short hallway.

The clearly locked door to the stairs is labeled and the only one before a set of prison bars, ones that block a small entryway before a thick, cement wall that has an iron door in the center.

That area is clearly meant to be as separate as possible, and just as protected, which means…

I turn to my left and see another door, a more normal one with a window in the top half, and there’s a sign that reads Maximum Security Ward, Please have badge ready.

Both doors have a scanner for a swipe card next to them, ones that should read said badges, and regardless of all the red flags everywhere, I’m beyond ready to test the theory.

I already know the general layout beyond the door from looking at decades of blueprints; a reception desk that opens in both directions, the one actually going out into the ward separated by thick bullet proof glass, and a security desk.

Straight ahead, and to the right are where they keep the patients, and to the left is the permanent nurses station, the security office, and all the doctor offices.

Taking a deep breath, I lead the charge toward the door, swiping my card like I’ve been doing it my entire life, then present my badge to reception before Madds and Drix do the same.

“You picked one hell of a day to start,” says the nurse who might be old enough to remember when this place was built. “New arrivals in less than ten, kiddies.”

I frown as she leads us out of reception and into the hall.

We didn’t choose what day our internship started, or the day classes did for that matter since they happen to be one in the same for graduates, but she’s right.

Judging by the undercurrent humming through the entire floor, it must be pretty damn busy.

The amount of armed guards is a dead giveaway, too.

Following Nurse Hubbard to the mouth of the hallway with the offices, I watch the multiple men in uniforms line the walls on either side of both patient halls, forming a bit of a line between us and the open areas, then create a small opening in front of a door I didn’t notice before.

A door that opens seconds later, the pop and hiss of a lock making my pulse start to pound in my ears.

Two huge guards come through first, both dressed in riot gear and carrying big, fat batons that look like they could easily break bones. They look pissed. Pissed off and ready for a fight, and when the next bodies cross the threshold, I can see why.

One right after the next, the five newest patients of the maximum security ward walk in and it’s as if time slows with each step they take.

They’re each wearing the standard white jumpsuit patients get at intake but beyond that, Jesus they’re all wearing straight jackets and muzzles, and they have chains around their midsections connecting them to each other as well as shackles around their ankles.

The first in the lineup even has blinders on, and we can barely see his face as he heads our way.

“Seems like overkill, doesn’t it?” Maddox whispers, and I nod.

I knew these men were dangerous but no one would brief us on them until we were officially working here, so seeing them like this is a little unsettling.

Thrilling, but unsettling all the same.

With my eyes glued to the scene playing out before us, I can feel my heart kick into overdrive as the line stops a mere six feet away.

I can only clearly see the two men in the front, the first mostly covered but he’s easily the biggest, probably closer to seven feet tall where the others seem to tap out around six and a half feet give or take.

The second man keeps glancing back over his shoulder, something that earns him a warning tap every time he does it, and it seems to be pissing off the third alpha because I don’t think he’s stopped growling since they started doing intake.

I’ll be damned if I’ve heard anything Nurse Hubbard has said, though. Not with all of this heavy, thick, malicious alpha energy pulsing around us.

Barely refraining from moving around to get a better view, I discreetly push up on my toes and crane my neck after an eternity of waiting, desperately trying to get a look at the rest of the lineup.

Then immediately regret it when I do.

The guards get them moving, the first three men going by without issue but as the last two come into view, I swear my heart actually stops.

It’s like in the movies or tv shows, when they show the hero or whatever, and they slow everything down as he emerges from the wreckage of his good deeds.

The explosions drag on, flames and smoke billow from them at a snail’s pace, and out walks the badass you think surely died during all of that, in all of his slow motion swaggering glory while some incredible, perfect song plays him out.

That’s exactly how it feels as the last two giant alphas walk by with a somewhat smaller—not by much—nicely dressed man following behind them, Tear You Apart blasting at full volume in my head, and as soon as they do, my dumbass perfumes so hard it’s as if I didn’t take my scent blockers this morning.

And I just smile as the panic sets in because there is not one goddamn thing I can do to stop it.