Chapter 4

Autumn walked down the tree-lined path away from the library, her boots crunching loudly against the fallen leaves. The cold air finally cleared the stifling pressure from her lungs. She rolled her aching shoulders, letting her rigid posture collapse into a comfortable slouch.

A high-pitched, piercing alarm shrieked directly into her brain.

Violation detected. Doodling during designated deep work hours severely deviates from elite academic parameters. Initiating data penalty.

"Wait, no-" Autumn gasped out loud.

Before she could finish the sentence, a massive wave of raw data slammed into her consciousness. It felt like someone had driven a physical wedge into her skull. Fragments of the original Autumn's memories-complex legal jargon, endless library hours, the pressure of maintaining a perfect GPA-flooded her mind all at once.

The world tilted violently. Black spots swarmed her vision. Her knees buckled, and she pitched forward, the heavy tote bag dragging her down toward the concrete path.

She threw her hands out, bracing for the impact.

Instead of hitting the ground, her body collided with something solid. A strong, rigid arm wrapped tightly around her waist, arresting her fall with jarring force.

Autumn squeezed her eyes shut, her head spinning violently. The nausea was overwhelming. Instinctively, she leaned all her dead weight against the arm holding her up, gasping for air.

The muscles beneath her cheek felt like carved granite.

She forced her eyes open.

Harrison was standing right beside her. His face was inches from hers.

He wasn't looking at her face. He was staring down at where her body was pressed against his side. His skin was completely drained of color, leaving him looking like a marble statue. His jaw was locked so tight the muscles ticked visibly under his skin. His eyes were wide, filled with a frantic, visceral horror.

Yet, his hand remained clamped around her arm. He didn't let go. He stood frozen, enduring the physical contact like a man holding his hand in an open flame.

Data transfer complete, ACE announced, the alarm fading into a dull hum.

The vertigo vanished instantly. Autumn realized she was practically plastered against Harrison's side.

She recoiled as if she had been burned. She jumped back two full steps, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"I'm so sorry!" Autumn blurted out, her hands raised defensively. "I just... my blood sugar dropped. I got dizzy. I didn't mean to grab you."

Harrison didn't speak. His chest heaved with rapid, shallow breaths. He looked down at the sleeve of his dark coat where she had touched him.

When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were terrifyingly blank.

"Monitor your physical data," he said, his voice a harsh, mechanical rasp. "Do not let it compromise your efficiency."

He didn't wait for a response. He turned sharply on his heel and walked away.

Autumn watched him go. His strides were much faster than his usual measured pace. His shoulders were stiff, his arms held slightly away from his body. He looked like he was fleeing a disaster zone.

A cold knot formed in her stomach. She adjusted her bag and followed him, keeping a safe distance behind.

Harrison practically jogged up the steps of the nearest lecture hall building and disappeared inside. Autumn slipped through the doors a moment later. The hallway was empty. She heard the heavy thud of a door closing near the end of the corridor.

The men's restroom.

Autumn crept down the hallway, the rubber soles of her boots silent against the tile. The restroom door hadn't latched completely; it was cracked open just an inch.

She held her breath and leaned close to the gap.

The sound of rushing water echoed loudly off the tiled walls.

Harrison stood over the sink. He had pushed the sleeve of his coat and shirt up past his elbow. The faucet was turned on full blast, the water scalding hot, steaming in the cold air.

He was scrubbing his arm.

He had pumped a massive amount of harsh pink industrial soap into his palm. He was rubbing it furiously up and down his forearm, right where Autumn had leaned against him.

His movements were violent, jerky, and entirely devoid of his usual controlled grace. He grabbed a handful of rough brown paper towels and scrubbed the skin until it turned a furious, angry red.

Autumn clamped a hand over her mouth.

He wasn't just washing his hands. He was trying to scrape the top layer of his skin off. Tiny beads of blood began to surface where the rough paper had broken the skin.

He stared blankly at the mirror, his lips moving rapidly, muttering a low, rhythmic string of numbers and chemical formulas-a decontamination sequence only he understood.

This is a core system parameter, ACE's voice was devoid of emotion. His clinical mysophobia is the foundation of his logic structure. Any variable that threatens this structure will be eliminated.

A chill seeped into bones. This wasn't just a quirky personality trait. He was deeply, fundamentally broken. And she was a walking trigger for his worst nightmare.

Suddenly, Harrison's frantic scrubbing stopped.

His head snapped up. His pale eyes locked onto the reflection of the cracked door in the mirror. His gaze was razor-sharp, instantly shifting from panicked to predatory.

Autumn's heart stopped. She threw herself backward, pressing her spine flat against the cold hallway wall, out of the line of sight.

The rushing water shut off abruptly.

Footsteps moved toward the door.

Autumn didn't think. She spun around and bolted silently toward the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall, throwing herself through the heavy fire doors just as the restroom door swung wide open behind her.