Chapter 9 The First Session: Meeting The Demon

POV: Elara

The clock struck ten.

Elara stood outside the door marked Consultation Room A, her pulse steady only because she'd practiced it that way - slow breaths, grounded posture, textbook calm. But under her blouse, a bead of sweat slid down her spine like it knew something she didn't.

She knocked once.

No answer.

She opened the door anyway.

The room was not what she expected.

No couch. No clipboard. No warm lighting or calming earth tones. No effort at pretense.

Just two black chairs. One table. One tall window. And him - already seated. Already watching.

Zane Atticus Mercer didn't stand.

Didn't blink.

Didn't smile.

He sat like a man who'd built the chair just to make others uncomfortable in it. Sleeves folded to his forearms. Shirt pressed to silence. A watch on his wrist that glinted too sharply to be ignored. His stare was razor-clean - unreadable, unflinching, far too aware.

Elara crossed the room with even steps and took her seat without hesitation.

She placed the file on the table but didn't open it. Not yet.

"Mr. Mercer," she began, tone balanced - clinical, but not cold. "I'm Dr. Elara Raye. I'll be overseeing your evaluation and therapy sessions."

A pause. Long enough to stretch.

"That's what the last one said," he replied, voice calm, indifferent - carved from stone.

Elara didn't blink. "I'm not the last one."

"No," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "She cried on the second day. You look like a third-day crier."

She offered a dry, close-lipped smile. "Let's find out."

A flicker at the edge of his mouth. Amusement, maybe. Or a warning wearing a grin.

"Tell me something, Doctor," he said at last, voice quiet but sharp. "Do you believe in curing people... or just containing them?"